Constantine Capers: The Pennington Perplexity Natalie Brianne (best summer reads of all time .txt) 📖

would likely make him more upset. His notes hadn’t worked to remind him. There were too many important things she might forget to tell him, even if he did believe her. The only solution was to find the journal.

“Good morning?” He was unconvinced. “How is it a good morning? You haven’t answered any of my questions! Where am I and who are you and,” His face flushed. “I didn’t give you permission to come into my room, if it is my room that is.” He turned watching her search.

“And I didn’t exactly give you permission to take me on this airship yesterday but there we have it.” Her voice trailed off as she looked under the bed for the journal. “Now where have you put it?”

“I beg your pardon, but we’re on an airship? And put what where? What are you talking about, Miss?”

“You usually call me Mira, and I am referring to your journal. Please sit down.”

“Sit down? How can I sit down while a woman I’ve never met searches a room I’ve never seen before?” He seemed to realize the ridiculousness of his statement as he spoke.

“If you sit down, you can calm down a little, think a bit more clearly, and find that all of this is obviously a dream, if it makes so little sense to you.” She moved to the other side of the room. He stood there pondering for a second before sitting down.

“Are you a dream then?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Do I look like a dream?” she responded. A puzzled look came over his face.

“This feels real. And I don’t remember dreaming about you before.”

“And that’s precisely the problem.”

“What are you talking about?”

She found the journal on the top shelf of the closet, retrieved it, and sat next to him on the bed, tracing the edge of the journal with her fingers.

“What is the last thing you remember, Byron?”

“Going to bed last evening. I had just received a lead on a case I was investigating. I was going to stop off at Scotland Yard first thing in the morning at noon to see if they had any additional information, and then I was going to go and head up the lead.”

“So, you don’t remember anything at all after that?”

“Not a thing. Not sure why I am telling you anything though. What is that book? And you haven’t explained what is going on.”

“You’re always telling me to use my observational skills Byron, and now you are off the hook?” She smiled, teasing him a bit. He clenched his teeth for a moment, then broke out in an enigmatic smile. She tensed.

“Mira is it?” She nodded, and he continued. “From what I can gather, considering that I am in a completely different place than I slept last night, you seem to know me, but I don’t know you…hmm. There are two options that could be at work here.”

“Go on.”

“Well judging by the state of your clothes, you’ve slept in them. I seem to have slept in mine as well. According to you, we’re on an airship. You are right in saying I’ve never laid eyes on you before. You are acting calm and collected indicating you’ve done something like this before. I’ve been getting close to the end of this case. It’s only logical that they would try to stop me, but why send you?” He stood and began to pace. “It just doesn’t make sense.” He stopped and turned defensively towards her, looking her over. “You don’t seem to be the mercenary type.”

She started laughing. “You can’t be serious.”

He stared at her for a few moments more. Looking her over. Really trying to determine who she was. He looked into her eyes and softened.

“No, I suppose I’m not. You couldn’t be one of them.”

“One of who?”

“No matter. What’s your name again?”

“Samira. Samira Blayse. You hired me as your secretary.”

“Why don’t I remember you?”

“Well what was your other logical option?”

“I’d rather not say.”

She stood and took a cautious step towards him, studying his face. His anger dissipated, but his confusion remained. “Just read this.” She held the journal out to him. He stood there for a moment before he took it.

She walked into the other room, attempting to calm the butterflies again. She made the bed and cleaned up the few belongings she had brought with her. With any luck they would be returning home today. She was arranging her tangled mess of hair when Byron came in.

“Miss Blayse I—”

“Mira. Please call me Mira.”

“Of course. I’m so sorry, Mira.”

“Apology accepted.”

He stood there for a moment in silence. She could see him in the mirror, looking at her reflection. She finished brushing her hair and put down the comb. He cleared his throat.

“Hmm. Well, if you are ready, we ought to go and see how likely it is we can get back to London. After all, your cat must be missing you.”

She whirled towards him. “My cat? I never told you about Nero.”

“You have cat fur on the hem of your skirt, and besides,” he gestured towards the bed where her sketchbook lay open, “a drawing like that must have come from a live subject. Nero? That’s a good name for a cat. Does he play the violin?” His eyes smiled at her as he turned back into his room leaving Mira at a loss for words once again.

The weather had cleared up sufficiently that the airship could take flight. They landed in Bristol, and the captain informed everyone that the ship would be grounded for a few hours to check on the canvas of the balloon and to make repairs. Byron paced in the observation lounge, back and forth along the front panel of glass.

“Shall we go for a walk? The airship isn’t going anywhere for a while.” He stopped and turned to her.

“Alright. Lead the way.” She stood and followed him out.

At the ramp he offered her his arm, and she took it as they strolled through Bristol. The city was smaller