Constantine Capers: The Pennington Perplexity by Natalie Brianne (new ebook reader TXT) 📕

“You’re certain?”

“Positive.”

“I can only hope I don’t do it again tomorrow.”

“You know, that is part of the fun of it though, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“For as much as it pains me to have you forget me, it is quite exciting to never know how you’ll greet me each morning.”

“I hope tomorrow I’ll greet you as a man who is impossibly in love with you.” He smiled at her as he continued.

“Impossible because I can say that and have it be the truth, even though I’ve only met you today.”

“I wonder, how is that possible?”

“It doesn’t take a brain to love someone, Mira. The Order of Circe may have taken my memory from me, but they can’t take my heart. That belongs to you.” He kissed the top of her head, and she smiled.

They walked a bit further, just enjoying one another’s company until she yawned. Then he called for a carriage and helped her in, settling into the seat next to her. They rode in silence back to Swan Walk, but neither of them minded. They only minded once it pulled up in front of her uncle’s house and their time together came to an end. Byron paid the driver and helped her out of the carriage. The dark household loomed above them. She looked up at it and sighed.

“I don’t want today to be over yet.”

“Neither do I.” He squeezed her hand. “But it has to be. Both of us need rest.”

“You’ll forget all of this.”

“I’ll be certain to write as much of it down as possible before I turn in for the night. I promise.” She nodded and let go of his hand. He pulled her hand back.

“But just in case I don’t remember, just know that I love you, Samira Rose Blayse.” He kissed her hand softly before letting her go.

She paused and studied him for a moment before heading up the stairs and slipping into the house. All seemed still and dark. She crept up the stairs to her room counting to seventy-nine. Nero greeted her at the top of the stairs with a rub around her legs and a contented mew. She looked out the window onto the street. Byron stood looking up at the house. Then he trudged down the road. She let herself drift into the void.

The next morning, the sun crept over the windowsill and woke Mira from her slumber. Weary from the night before, she sat up, every inch of her aching. Nero jumped onto the bed and mewed. He wanted fish. She slipped off the edge of the bed and realized she still wore the remains of Walker’s clothes. She groaned and dressed in her own clothes, examining the bruises she’d accumulated from the day before. She blinked, remembering. So much happened, it was hard to keep track. It felt like it had been a week’s worth of days crammed into twenty-four hours.

She brushed through her hair and winced as she touched the injury on the back of her head. Byron’s injuries would be worse than hers. Was he even up? He would be so confused if he didn’t remember anything. After all, if she felt sore, he likely felt ten times sorer. And he had a black eye. Perhaps it would help corroborate her story if he didn’t read his journal before she got there. Hopefully, he could manage until then. She laughed a little to herself. She never would have thought Byron could have fallen for her. But if he could, she would have to figure out her own feelings. Did she love him back? When she determined her hair would not cooperate, she steeled herself and went down the stairs.

Her uncle could be a reasonable man. She knew that. Landon even more reasonable. Despite that, she knew if she told either of them that she had jumped from a moving train, broke into someone’s house, shot someone, and then got into a fist fight, that she would never be allowed to leave the house by herself again. Gratefully, most of her bruises were out of sight and her hair covered her neck. She just needed some explanation as to why she was back.

She walked into the dining room and sat down quietly. Her uncle read the newspaper and didn’t notice her come in. Landon brought a tray of breakfast food out and looked at her with a knowing glance. She smiled and helped herself to some food. Her uncle absentmindedly placed some toast and eggs on his plate. He glanced up at her.

“Good morning, Mira.” He immediately went back to his newspaper without a second thought.

“Good morning, Uncle.” She quietly nibbled on some toast and hoped he would continue to not completely notice her presence. He paused in his reading for a moment and then folded the newspaper and looked at her.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came back.”

His eyes narrowed. “You are supposed to be in Bradford.”

“I know, Uncle, I just—”

“No. It isn’t safe for you here.” He interrupted.

“It is now, Uncle.”

“You received word from Constantine then?”

“…yes. The suspects were all arrested.”

Her uncle relaxed. “Good. Good. In that case, welcome home.” He picked up the newspaper again and looked through it.

Mira smiled and finished her breakfast.

As she walked out of the dining room and into the front entryway, Landon stopped her.

“Lying to your uncle, hmm?”

“I didn’t lie. All of the suspects have been arrested.”

“But you were involved, weren’t you?”

“Well, yes. But will it hurt him not to know?”

“I assume you won’t be telling me what happened either?”

“It won’t hurt you not to know.”

“Very well. Oh! Before I forget, a letter from your brother came for you.” He handed her the envelope, and she placed it within her sketchbook.

“Now, off you go. Just don’t get into trouble,” he said.

“You know I will.” She smirked and walked out of the house. Landon shook his head and went back to dusting.

She decided to walk to Palace Court. The cool fall day glistened, the leaves