ladyship."
"Merci."
Lady Lucille stared at a spot slightly above Cecily's head. "It is our very great pleasure to return to the club. I can only hope that the service is as impeccable as always."
Even without the thick French accent, Cecily wouldhave guessed the lady's origin. She positively breathed Paris. "We shall do our best," she said, a little miffed at the suggestion that the new management might not come up to snuff. "This is not your first visit to the Pennyfoot Country Club, I assume."
"On the contrary. We come here quite often," Sir John said, answering for her. "In fact, we were here quite recently for the hunting season."
"Then you should enjoy the pheasant hunt on Boxing Day."
"I'm looking forward to it."
"Ah, there you are, John, old boy." The voice boomed down the staircase, startling Lady Lucille to the point of bringing a flush to her cheeks.
Cecily watched the portly gentleman rapidly descend, one hand on the bannister, the other clasping the arm of a scowling woman who was doing her best to keep up with him without tripping over the hem of her ruffled satin skirt.
"Evening, Lionel," Gilroy muttered.
The newcomer seemingly ignored him, his avid gaze instead devouring the delectable Lady Lucille. "Thought we'd join you for supper, old chap," he said a trifle breathlessly as he reached the bottom of the steps.
Gilroy nodded. "This is Mrs. Baxter, the new manager of the club. Mrs. Baxter, may I present Lionel Fitzhammer, K.C., and his wife, Barbara."
Fitzhammer held out his hand and Cecily reluctantly put hers into it, doing her very best not to visibly recoil when the scarlet-cheeked gentleman pressed his rubbery lips against her fingers.
"Charmed, I'm sure," she muttered, and withdrew her hand rather smartly.
"Have you met the others yet?" Lionel asked, standing close enough to Lucille that his wife was forced to hover in the background. "They should be down shortly. Though Percy's a bit of a slowcoach. He'll probably be late to the table. He usually is."
"No, I haven't met the rest of your party yet." Cecily tried to sound fascinated. "I understand that all four of you gentlemen are members of the King's Council."
"You are correct," Fitzhammer said, his gaze once more fastened greedily on Lucille. "Percy Chatsworth, K.C., and his wife, Amelia, and Roger Peebles, K.C., with his wife, Gretchen. We are all Masters of the Bench, here to enjoy the Christmas Season in this excellent establishment."
"Then we shall do our best to make your stay a memorable one. We are honored to have you all as our guests." Cecily met the wary gaze of Barbara Fitzhammer and smiled at her. Although the woman's lackluster brown hair and pleasant looks were vastly overshadowed by those of the flamboyant Lucille, her eyes were cornflower blue and quite beautiful.
"Jolly good," her husband muttered. "The Pennyfoot has always been one of our favorite places to stay, wouldn't you say, John?"
"Quite, quite." Gilroy pulled a fob watch from the pocket of his waistcoat and flipped open the lid. "I suppose we should make our way to the dining room."
"Oh, please, don't let me detain you." Cecily backed out of the way to allow them to pass. "I trust you will enjoy your evening meal."
"Bound to, madam," Fitzhammer boomed. "What with that excellent French chef of yours. Can't beat the French for knowing how to tickle a man's palate, eh, what?"
He gave Gilroy a sly dig with his elbow, his gaze riveted on Lady Lucille's face. The lady lifted her chin in a haughty gesture of contempt, yet her glance slid sideways at her husband, as if concerned the comment would offend him.
Sir John, however, merely grasped his wife's elbow, muttered his excuses, and steered her down the hallway, leaving a trail of expensive perfume behind. Fitzhammer barely took the time to bid Cecily good evening before charging after them with his unfortunate spouse in tow.
Left alone, Cecily breathed a sigh. It had been a long day and she was hungry. All she