Flora’s gaze swept the room as her heart and her hopes fell. Indeed, the place appeared as if no one had been in residence for some time. “But that’s not possible,” she said with difficulty. “He told me this was his room number. I’m certain of it.” Mr. McMinn made quick work of searching every inch of the room and then turned to face her. “Maybe you remembered wrong. Or he told you wrong. In either case, there’s no sign of him here.” “No, I…” She shook her head. How could she remember wrong when the room he’d claimed was his sat one floor beneath her own? “I just couldn’t be…” “Wrong?” Flora nodded, though she knew that the error to which he referred was not the same as the one she was considering. While she might have misheard or incorrectly recalled the room number, she was most concerned that she had once again chosen the wrong groom. An image of Will Tucker lying on a mortician’s slab rose, and she quickly blinked it away. No, he couldn’t have succumbed to the Fatal Flora curse already.
