It was not her presence in the house that was so distracting. It was the prospect of her absence that had disturbed him. It should not. There should be a sense of relief and anticipation of a return to the status quo. It bothered him that he was reluctant to return to that so soon.
Georgia’s appearance in the room was presaged by the sound of her hurried footsteps. Keaton sighed, hearing her trundle toward the library. He turned to face the doors and counted hislast few seconds of silence before they were thrust open with the force of a gale.
“Oh, there you are! Keaton, I have received a letter from my cousin Amelia Vexley at Silverton Hall. She has asked for my help. I must go to her at once.”
Keaton frowned. “We are to dine with my uncle this evening. He has passed on the invitation to you, no?”
“Then you will have to apologize. This is more important.”
He jerked his head back. “It is most certainly not.”
He heard Georgia come closer, followed the sound of her footsteps, then heard her voice.
“How can you say that?” she demanded, a note of stridency in her voice.
“Because it is true?” He was genuinely perplexed. “She lives with her mother and father, does she not?”
“Well, yes, she does.”
“And do they pose any risk to their daughter? Might they harm her in some way?”
There came no reply from Georgia, but he could imagine that she was shaking her head.
“I cannot see non-verbal gestures,” he said, testily.
“No,” Georgia said sharply.
“Then what trouble can she be in? Is she at home?”
“Yes! But I cannot know until I go and talk to her…”
“Out of the question. We will dine with my uncle in a few hours. There will be a select handful of others present, and we will have the chance to repair the damage from the fallout at the White Conduit House.”
“I am not going to dinner with Lord Swinthorpe,” Georgia insisted.
“We are,” Keaton followed her voice, confident he was directing his replies to her face.
She sounded like she was pacing. He thought for a moment and oriented himself, then strode to a chair and sat. He was inch-perfect, which gave him some satisfaction. Georgia, however, was harder for him to keep track of, and it began to irritate him.
Does she not appreciate how one holds a conversation with a blind man? I do not expect her to know without learning,but she has had plenty of opportunities. Is this insolence or rebellion, perhaps?
“Will you keep still!” he finally snapped.
“When I am agitated, I pace,” she replied quickly.
Then he heard the sound of a chair scraping across the floor before being thumped down in front of him. She sat.
“Why do you refuse?” she asked from close by.
There was no perfume now, merely the clean smell of soap. It was somehow even more alluring, and Keaton sat back, trying to keep his mind focused and sharp.
“Because you and I have a task to perform. We made an agreement.”
“We did. Does it still hold, or do you wish to go back on it?” she challenged.
“I am willing to uphold my part of the pact and have Aloysius Thorne take on the job of discovering your brother’s fate.”
“Are you, though? Your uncle seems to think differently.”
