D is for Deception: A Langley & Porter Mystery

16 Confrontation

I told Cecily I was meeting a realtor in the city to look at a few more properties this morning and that I would meet her for lunch at our usual café. I took the folder with me and was planning to tell anyone who asked that it was the research I had done on the London properties I was viewing. But no one asked. In fact, no one was around to see me leave the manor at all. That was odd. But I figured they were all exhausted from the party the previous evening and were choosing to sleep in this morning rather than wake early for the usual family breakfast.

True to my word, I did view two properties that morning but then made my way into town to begin the true intention of my excursion quickly enough. I sent the carriage away, saying I would be doing some light shopping while I waited for Cecily to join me. Instead, I peered through windows at the displays each shop had and waited, glancing over my shoulder now and again to see if he was there. For a long time, he wasn't. But then I watched him exit his office, briefcase in hand, and make his way across the street toward the tea shop I knew he frequented.

I turned and quickened my pace so that I could intersect him along his way. He did not see me approach until I collided with him, spilling the contents of my folders as he spilled the contents of his briefcase. I muttered a curse and knelt to collect my things as he collected his, hoping it looked believable enough for anyone who happened to be watching. He did a fair job at the ruse as well, looking just as put off as I was by the inconvenient collision.

"What are you doing here?" Nathaniel Harrison murmured as we raced to gather our things as two strangers would.

"I need you to take some information to Ryland for me," I whispered back and that was when he noticed that I was not putting my own papers back into my folder at all. Rather, I was placing them carefully inside his briefcase. He glanced up at me in surprise and then, impressed by my ruse, decided to play along. Saying nothing more, he allowed me to place my things within his briefcase, even helping me do so when he realized I wasn't taking anything back. When we had finished, I stood with him and feigned embarrassment. "My sincerest apologies, sir. I will try to be more careful about where I am going."

"See that you do," he answered in a gruff tone so unlike his usual expression. Then he gave me a curt nod and went off into the tea shop as he had intended before. Clutching my now empty folder to my chest, I made my way to the café a few doors down and requested mine and Cecily's usual table.

I waited for her to arrive while staring out at the rich women passing on the street outside, going about their usual shopping and gossiping. After an hour had passed, I determined she wasn't coming. Odd though that was, I figured she had gotten held up in some other capacity. Cecily Keene was a busy woman and we had lunch together frequently enough for her to forget a time or two. So I gathered my things and hailed a cab to return to the Keene manor.

Everything was as quiet as it was when I had left when I arrived. I made my way up the stairs, peering into Cecily's room as I passed but she was not there. By the time I made it to the door of my own room, I was beginning to feel an uneasiness settle itself in the pit of my stomach. And when I opened the door, the feeling only grew to a panic.

My room had been ransacked. The sheets torn from the bed, feathers littering the mattress from the disturbed pillows, every drawer left open and the curtains thrown aside. My closet was in tatters as well, each of Elena's gorgeous dresses thrown about in a heap here or there. My gaze went immediately to the loose board beneath my bed post. It looked undisturbed but, before I could take a step forward to examine it, I heard my name called from downstairs.

"Gwendolyn Marlowe," the voice said. I knew it in an instant as George Keene's own and a chill ran down my spine at the very sound of it. I swept from the room to the top of the stairs, gazing down at him where he stood in the foyer below. He wore a stern expression, his hands planted firmly on his hips, as he gazed up at me with narrowed eyes. There was a thug on each side of him. I gulped. "Come down here."