Gwen shook her head and started saying something, but he waved her words away and started down the hall. He passed Beatrice, who had two paper cups of steaming coffee on a disposable tray.
“What just happened? What did I miss?” Beatrice said.
Aiden ignored her, bypassing the elevator and going straight to the stairs. His footsteps echoed all the way down to the ground floor. The burning in his knuckles only got worse.
***
“What was that? Hey, isn’t he the hand-kisser from the picture?” Beatrice said, coming up to the doorway where Gwen stood.
Gwen had her mouth covered with one hand, the other hand tightly clutching her side. He came back, she thought, He was here and he left again. And it’s all because of him.
The man in question, Ben Somersby, put his hand on the wall to help himself stand. The two bruises on his face looked about ready to meld into one larger one. “Lovely seeing you again,” he said.
“Get out of here!” Gwen replied.
Beatrice added, “Now! Unless you want to check getting beaten up by a girl off your to-do list.”
Ben grunted, probing at his face and hissing when he touched the bruises. “You don’t have to tell me twice. I was serious about the suing thing, by the way. I’d tell you to tell your man that, but I’m not so certain he wants to hear anything you have to say at the moment.”
“You Brits always talk too much,” Beatrice said, handing the tray of coffee to Gwen and cracking her knuckles, “Now stop yammering with your Monty Python accent and get lost. Unless what you’re trying to tell me is you want me to make you?”
“All vinegar, this one,” Ben said, trying to for another grin which turned into a flinch, “Yes, fine, I’m going. See?”
Beatrice waited until Ben rounded the corner down the hall before turning her attention back to Gwen. “Why did Aiden leave again?”
“He got so angry when he saw Ben, I didn’t have a chance to explain things to him. He’s gone again!”
“Here I am, bailing you out for a second time,” Beatrice said, “Let’s go. It’s only been a minute. He’s still close. We’re going to find him and we’re going to make him listen.”
***
Aiden reached the main lobby and stared about dazedly for a moment. Everything felt unreal, as though he might slip through the floor and into oblivion with every step. He’d really, truly believed that Catherine had been right.
Why, then, had Ben been at the suite?
Just thinking that name had his knuckles throbbing, and he massaged them as gently as he could.
There were too many people around. Some of them glanced at the state of his suit as the passed, or at the swelling of his knuckles. He didn’t need their stares right now. Going outside wasn’t an option; there were people out there too.
He remembered a quiet place then. The parlor. So he walked down the hall, numbly putting one foot down and then the other until the marble once against turned to wood.
Shoving the door open, he entered the gin-and-tobacco scented room. Empty, just as he hoped and expected. This time, his view of the mountains through the big window at the far end wasn’t obstructed by blinding sunlight. The peaks looked cruel and jagged and uncaring today.
He lowered himself into an overstuffed leather arm chair and let his head rest against the cushion. His eyes drifted shut, closing off the world. The throbbing in his hand worsened. Something in him wondered if he’d managed to break a knuckle on Ben’s face. The rest of him didn’t care.
The door swung behind him, the air shifting slightly as someone else entered the room. Aiden ignored them, hoping they would do the same courtesy.
“Mister Manning?”
He recognized that voice. It was someone else he had no interest in seeing ever again.
“Won’t Judith be needing you to go fetch her another hot pot of tea? I’m sure the one’s she’s on must be cold by now,” Aiden said.
The butler drew himself up, “Sir, my name is Gottfried von Haller. Yes, I’ve been tending to your grandmother’s needs. However, I have noted something that has caused me great concern regarding her attitude towards yourself and your fiancé.”
“What is this? Is this another game she wants to play? Because you can give her a very special message from me if it is,” Aiden said, straightening up in the chair. His fists began clenching again, but he stopped that as soon as his right hand complained by sending a jag of pain straight up his arm.
“I assure you, this is no game, sir. I believe that your grandmother may be growing rather regretful of what she’s done to you. And while there are certain expectations of confidentiality I am expected to follow, my alarm at her behavior and the consequences of it can no longer be ignored.”