“Mortimer, everyone is on their way to bed. We’re sorry to have woken you.” Said Mrs. Dixon.
“I hardly believe that the King of the Isles had to deal with such nonsense!” Mortimer must have been satisfied, however, for he disappeared back into his room.
“Well now. Shall I show you to your quarters?” Neville gestured to the staircase.
“I’m in the Moroccan room on the second floor. My usual.” Announced John, holding the bag of ice to his face.
“Where are your things?” Irritation bubbled in Mrs. Dixon’s chest at John’s smile. “Ah. You already moved yourself in.”
“See you all in the morning.” John grinned with triumph as he headed up the stairs.
Mrs. Dixon would have to speak with Neville about that later. Neville’s job, after all, was to manage the guests of the estate. People movin
