place, she sailed into the office. The minute Ellen closed the door behind her, her smile disappeared. When Maggie stood, Ellen shook her head and waved her back into her chair.
“Let’s not mince words, shall we? I don’t want any of your hail-fellow-well-met false cheer. Nor will I pretend to be polite and diplomatic.”
“That would be a welcome change,” Maggie said. “I despise being a hypocrite.”
“As do I. You know where Gordon is, just as you know when he’s due to return. I want that information. In fact, I insist upon it.”
Maggie smiled. “Or what? You’ll shout the house down? You’ll get down on the floor and kick your heels?”
“Yes. Ellison is an excellent porter. He looks large and strong enough to remove any miscreant from the club. No doubt that’s part of his duties. How, though, will he handle the situation with a woman?”
She smiled brightly. “I know, quite well, how to defend myself. Plus, I have a very wicked-looking hat pin in my reticule. I would hate to have to use it on the poor man, but I shall. I shall also scream. That should summon an audience as well. I will simply refuse to leave. Poor Ellison will have to transport me bodily from here, and that surely won’t do the reputation of the Mayfair Club any good. I’m well-known in London. Or at least in financial circles. You see, my husband was a very wealthy man. His word carried a great deal of weight. As his widow, I have some cachet. Whatever would happen if word got out that I was treated badly by you?”
She advanced on the desk. “If you care as much about Gordon as I think you do, you wouldn’t allow his reputation to suffer such a fate.”
Maggie’s lips thinned, a sure sign that her temper was rising. Ellen didn’t care. Besides, it was only fair that Maggie was an enraged as she was.
“Tell me where Gordon is and when he’s returning.”
She sat in one of the chairs before the desk and waved Maggie back into her chair.
“I absolutely refuse to leave until you do. Where is Gordon?”
“I told you. He’s in Edinburgh.”
“When is he returning?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Because it’s the decent thing to do?”
Maggie only smiled at her.
She had an idea, something that had occurred to her after a conversation with Jennifer.
“Jennifer used to write to Gordon. Every Christmas and every year on his birthday. He never received those letters. Are you aware of that?”
Maggie looked at her, no expression on her face.
“I can’t help but wonder if you took those letters, Maggie. Were you so overprotective of Gordon that you intercepted his correspondence?”
For a moment, Maggie didn’t speak. Finally, she said, “She was intent on ruining his life.”
“So you did take them.”
“Someone had to protect him from her.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make. Now you’re determined not to tell us where Gordon is. Why? For the same reason?”
“There’s an old adage I learned as a child that eavesdroppers never hear any good about themselves.”
They both turned toward the door. Ellen hadn’t heard it open, and evidently neither had Maggie.
Gordon stood there. “To answer your question, Mrs. Thornton, I’ve just returned. What can I do for you?”
Ellen was not going to divulge her history in front of Maggie. She had the impression that the woman used any scraps of information as a weapon.
“If I may speak to you in private, I have some information that I think would be of interest to you. No, let me rephrase that, Gordon. I think it would change your life.”
“I’ve had one too many conversations like that recently. I’d prefer not to have another.”
She stood, walked toward Gordon, grabbed his arm, and pulled him out of the room. With her other hand, she slammed the door shut.
“You’re not her brother.”
Gordon blinked at her several times, but didn’t speak.
“You’re not Jennifer’s brother. Would you care to hear why?”
He nodded, but surprised her by turning and walking down the corridor, opening a door and stepping aside so that she could enter. There was enough light from the sconces in the hallway that she could see him go to the sideboard and light a gas lamp. This room, too, was an office but a more expansive one than Maggie’s.
A wall of windows overlooked the street. The curtains hadn’t been closed, and the streetlamps were like golden glowing stars forming intricate patterns.
The desk itself was massive, heavily carved, and a beautiful piece of furniture. Strangely enough, it reminded her