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

can I let you go alone when I’m your memory, Byron?” She whirled towards him.

“Because I won’t let you this time.”

“What?”

“You say you’ve been kidnapped, had death threats, Circe knows who you are, and that you’ve been helping me. You’re in danger, Mira.”

“You think I don’t know that? For all I know, I’ll end up just like my parents, and I’ll never know why. I’m scared, Byron. But I must do this. You have to let me come.”

“Mira, I can’t.” His voice shook. He took a step towards her and then turned towards the fireplace, leaning on the mantle. He stared into the flames.

“You what?” She folded her arms.

“I can’t let you come.”

“Why not?”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what’s happened to me. At first, I thought it was chivalry or some innate part of me designed to protect. I’m not certain what it is.” He began to pace. “Logic dictates that even if I had a memory, things couldn’t have progressed this fast. And seeing as I don’t have a memory, that makes this even more ridiculous. I don’t even know what I have written in that blasted journal you keep talking about.”

“Makes what ridiculous?” She set her mother’s portrait down and moved back to the armchair, leaning on the back. He moved towards her and took her hand.

“I remember you.”

“You what?”

“I remember you.”

“But you didn’t. This morning you—”

He interrupted her. “Alright, perhaps not in the exact meaning of the word.” He dropped her hand and started pacing again. “If I could explain it, I would, but no amount of thought, no amount of deduction can bring a solid conclusion in this case.”

“Which case? Pennington’s?”

“No, my own.” He turned back towards her. “Something about you. It just drives me absolutely insane.”

“What?” A look of surprise crossed her face. A look of instant regret crossed his.

“No, no, no, that’s not what I meant. Insane in a good way. If that’s possible. What I mean to say is,” He took another deep breath. “It isn’t a tangible memory. I honestly had no idea who you were this morning. I don’t remember anything we’ve ever done together or when we first met. But something inside me remembers you.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

He hesitated. “Perhaps it is my heart that remembers you. A fondness. There’s an attraction. Or something.” He turned a light shade of pink as he got flustered. Mira gave him a soft smile, tears forming again.

“You have feelings for me?”

“That’s it. That’s it exactly,” he sighed in relief before continuing. “And I know it is foolish for me to say that, that this is entirely a professional relationship to you, but you need to understand where I’m coming from. I care about you, Mira. Deeply. I don’t know how. But I do know why. You are such a brave, kind, considerate person. You’re beautiful and intelligent and a joy to talk to. You’re a breath of fresh air and—”

“Byron?”

“Yes?”

“I appreciate the compliments, but now isn’t exactly the time to build my ego.”

“Ah. Right. Yes. Well. Knowing that, you’ll understand that I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt or, heaven forbid it, killed when I could do something to prevent it.”

“But I can help. We just need to get your journal back.”

“My journal is not as important as you are.”

“But without it you can’t remember.”

“Do I really remember when I have it? No. It’s just memorized. It would have to be. It isn’t a reminder. It’s a record to be studied.”

“But Byron—”

“I wish I could remember you. Truly remember you. For now, we need to keep you safe.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible.”

He paused for a moment and opened the crumpled piece of paper the invitation was scrawled on. Then he moved over to her.

“That’s why I’ve decided that you need to leave London.”

She stared up at him. “What?!”

“You heard me.”

“No, Byron. We are going together. I’m not letting you go by yourself.”

“Well, you are going to have to. It’s far too dangerous. Do you have anywhere you can stay outside of London?”

“Yes, but I’m not going to leave.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Byron, I can’t let you go alone.”

“And I can’t let you come with me.”

“Yes, you can. You have in the past.”

“But this is now. I don’t know what kind of idiot I’ve been before, but this time I’m not letting you get hurt.” He threw the paper towards the fire and turned towards the door.

“Byron, I haven’t gotten hurt before. Please,” she pleaded. He paused at the door and looked back at her.

“And you won’t get hurt this time either. Not if I have anything to say about it.” He opened the door and left the parlor, the door closing behind him. She heard him and Landon speaking in the hall. That meant he was telling Landon the circumstances. He would tell her uncle. Soon enough she would be on a train out to Yorkshire and to safety.

Safety. Safety meant she couldn’t do anything. Safety meant being stuck in her uncle’s house until she got married off to someone. Safety meant playing by society’s rules. Safety meant believing lies. She rushed to the fireplace and found that the paper had landed very near an ember, but not quite in the fire. She used a poker to pull it further from the flames and then picked it up and smoothed it out.

You are cordially invited to a meeting of the Order of Circe. It will be held in number 6 on Vale Street in South Kensington starting at nine o’clock PM. Do be prompt.

Beneath it the symbol from Byron’s files appeared, scrawled in red ink. At least, she hoped it was ink. She grimaced and folded the paper back up. She knew the location. Now all she needed to do was get there without anyone knowing. Time for a plan. She looked at the clock. Five o’clock. Four hours to figure something out. She heard footsteps at the door and moved to sit down, hiding the paper in