Page 42 of Infernal Vices

CHAPTER 20

THE CAFÉ ROYAL

Later that evening, while in my study, Wilkins knocked, then entered the room with an envelope on a silver tray. The postman had delivered the last post not twenty minutes ago and I had not expected more correspondance. I raised a curious brow.

“Delivered by hand, sir,” Wilkins explained. I took the envelope and nodded my thanks. My houseman left the study before I reached for the letter opener and slit the envelope. I drew out a cream card of fine cardstock. To my surprise I saw it was an invitation:

Dear Mr. Hannan.

It is my greatest pleasure to invite you to dine with me at The Café Royal, 68 Regent Street, Piccadilly, at 6pm on Tuesday 8th March.

Please RSVP.

Miss Nissa Rai

The Café Royal was frequented by many esteemed bon viveurs, artists, aristocrats, and writers, but it also reputedly had the best wine cellar in the world. It was devilishly difficult to get a table there, and so Miss Rai’s accomplishment surprised and impressed me. I was unsure if Sebastian would be joining us, but I wanted to meet my beloved’s daughter and apologise for my disgraceful behaviour in the park. Sebastian would soon be ensconced in my home with a room to himself and a key to my front door. And if all progressed in the way that I hoped between Sebastian and I, Nissa would become a part of my life too. I immediately penned a response to the invitation, and while addressing the envelope noticed that the return address was to Mrs. Mountjoy at Claridges. Sebastian and his daughter retained a suite at the five-star hotel under false names. Another intriguing jigsaw piece fell into place.

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The Café Royal was one of my favourite places to dine, although, due to my lack of sociability before I met Sebastian, it had been a rare treat for when Grace and Henry came to town. The establishment was vast—three storey’s of immaculate architecture with a number of restaurant dining rooms, bars, a ballroom, and café.

When I stepped down from my Clarence carriage at five minutes to six, the venue was already bustling with patrons. I joined the queue and waited with the bohemian and aristocratic clientele until it was my turn to speak with the maître d'hôtel in the front lobby. It was a chilly evening and so I eased the collar on my greatcoat up to shield from the icy wind. After five minutes of anxiously tapping my cane on the pavement and watching the too-and fro of patrons I finally arrived at the front of the queue. The maître d'hôtel was a small, stiff backed man with his dark hair oiled and combed to his scalp. He had pinched lips, and above them, a waxed pencil moustache. As expected, he was attired in the black and white suit livery of a servant, with a gold crown motif embroidered on his cravat.

“Mr. Benedict Hannan to dine with Miss Rai,” I said when I finally stepped to the front desk. The Maître d licked his finger and turned several pages of his book to find Miss Rai’s six o’clock reservation for a table in the smaller of the restaurants, called The Grill Room. A steward was beckoned and the young man gestured for me to follow him through the foyer of the establishment.

I trailed the young steward while marvelling at the exquisite carved architecture of the interiors, lavish gilded mouldings…and his distracting tight, round backside. We travelled up a grandiose staircase with gilded balustrades to the second floor and then into the Grill Room restaurant. The scents of roasted meat and tobacco assaulted me, as did the décor, for this grand restaurant was astounding. The walls were clad with huge floor to ceiling gilded mirrors, accented against ivory walls, and seemed to be inspired by the Baroque ‘Hall of mirrors’ at the Palace of Versailles in France. The mirrors made the room appear double its size and the optical illusion was rather startling. The steward introduced me to the head waiter and then took my hat, coat, and cane. I tipped the young fellow before he departed.

The Irish accented head waiter addressed me with a slight bow, “Welcome Mr. Hannan.” He collected two menu cards from his station and then informed, “Miss Rai has already been seated. Allow me to show you to your table, sir.”

We began across the large room weaving through the gaps between the tables. Several of the patrons were puffing on cigars creating clouds of blue-grey smoke which I found rather objectionable. I hoped I would not be sitting too close to those gentlemen! I spied Miss Nissa Rai as she rose from her seat at a table in the far corner of the restaurant. Our eyes met and she offered me a shy smile. The young lady was a confection of pink with a layered tulle skirt and waist-length fitted jacket in magenta with a high neck, edged with white lace. The hat she wore was not of current London fashion, where ladies seemed to prefer large outlandish hats with as much froth and feather as they could carry on their head. No, this hat was petite, delicate, and continental in style with ribbon and silk spring flowers. It suited her very well. But what struck me as I reached our dining table was that while Miss Nissa’s skin was a light caramel, and her hair raven black from her mother’s Indian heritage, the girl had Sebastian’s eyes. Seeing his whisky eyes looking at me from such a pretty feminine face made me wobble internally. Nissa reached out her gloved hand and I stared for a second at her pristine white lace glove.

I struggled to find my words, before bowing, saying, “Good evening Miss Rai,” and then moving behind the lady to assist her in sitting again. The head waiter assisted me and I glanced across the table at the young woman with the mirror of my lover’s eyes and became quite tongue-tied.

“We have a four course menu you may choose from,” the head waiter said as he passed a menu

card first to Miss Nissa, and then one for me.

“Would you care to order from the wine list, sir?”

Miss Nissa spoke up before I could respond, her voice lilting, cultured, cut-glass British.

“We shall have a bottle of Chateau Mouton Rothschild, 1872,” she then sent her gaze to me and playfully added, “Father and I sampled it last time we dined here and it was most agreeable…Or…forgive me…would you care for something else Mr. Hannan?”

I was rather stunned, “No, no, no you have chosen the most excellent vintage,” I nodded to the head waiter to proceed. He left us and after an awkward moment of silence I took in the enigma before me. “It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Rai. Forgive me for not shaking you hand, I have a…condition.”

“No, it is I who owes you an apology Mr. Hannan. My father did tell me you were uncomfortable with touching strangers. I must admit it slipped my mind when I saw you. You are far younger and decidedly more handsome than I expected,” she beamed. “My father’s good taste appears to be for more than vintage wine!” she grinned. “And if it pleases, I would like you to call me Nissa, and I will call you Benedict. I want this meeting to be the beginning of a friendship.”

Flattered by Miss Rai’s appraisal of me I felt heat rise to my face. “Thank you Nissa.” I was indeed a dolt, for she was not the shy flower I had imagined on first observing her in the park, but an articulate, educated, and confident young woman.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I must confess I am rather embarrassed about the events in Grosvenor Square Gardens. It really was not my finest hour,” I winced.

“Come now, Benedict. You reaction was a perfectly understandable. I would have behaved far worse if I’d have seen my beau arm-in-arm with another,” she grinned wickedly. “But all is well now. I am relieved you and father are friends again. He was down in the dumps and rather morose company for several days and that was no fun at all, I can tell you!”

Nissa’s lack of social restraint and straightforward nature took me aback once again. I was not used to speaking about such personal subjects, especially in public. I nervously looked around to check that we didn’t have anyone listening in on our conversation to see that there were not yet diners at the two closest tables.

“I feel I must be candid before we continue our dinner,” I began. “I want you to know that I care very deeply for Sebastian.”

“As do I. Which is why I believe it is important that we two are friends. It would be uncomfortable for either of us if we could not see eye-to-eye, don’t you think?”