May 29

I might already have been packing my bags for New York if it hadn't been for Charlotte Moss. She called as I was about to ring the airline to book a ticket on the next flight out. So instead of lugging a suitcase across the airport at 4 o'clock in the afternoon, I was sitting across from Charlotte and nibbling on a scone with raspberry jam.

Charlotte wrapped herself in a voluminous orange poncho and leaned into the couch's sagging cushions with a sigh. She had something she wanted to tell me, she'd said on the phone. But in the 15 minutes since my arrival, Charlotte had spent the whole time preparing a tea tray and fretting about the cold air that snapped through the corners of the old windowpanes.

"It's an unusually cold month of May," she exclaimed over and over as she set out a pot of tea, ran back to the kitchen for the scones, returned, ran back for a pot of cream, and refused my proposals to help.

I took a sip of Earl Grey delicately scented with blue flowers and so did she. Now what? We both looked at each other uncomfortably. Did she know or even care about the story of Victoria Moss? I couldn't bring myself to pronounce the name. Victoria—this inner part of my own self that I still hadn't faced with complete honesty. Thoughts of Victoria frightened me. I had enough trouble understanding my conscious self and the present day. Still, Victoria's role—my role—in the Moss family fascinated me.

Charlotte set down her cup and took a deep breath. I pushed thoughts of Victoria Moss out of my mind.

"I don't quite know if I'm doing the right thing, but I felt I didn't have much choice," she began.

"Is everything OK? I mean, I know things aren't all right, but..."

"Katherine," she interrupted. "It's about the hotel. You see, I told you my sister inherited the second-largest share."

"And you inherited that from her, right?"

She nodded.

"Have the Taylors contacted you about buying it?"

"A lawyer has. I don't know which Taylor he was representing, as they're all very secretive. And what does it matter anyway?"

"You're selling it to them?"

"No. I refused any business dealings with those people. And then I received a second phone call. Another member of Destiny's family, but not from the Taylor side. Someone who seems a bit more trustworthy. So I decided to sell. The sooner the better."

"Do you mind if I ask who's buying?"

"Her name is Gwen Garnier, one of Destiny's cousins."

"Gwen Garnier?" I mumbled. "A French woman? Who coordinates art showings?"

"She is French, but I don't know what she does for a living."

"But how could it be? I didn't think she had that kind of money..."

"You know her?"

"Yeah," I murmured. Gwen had apparently been hiding more from me than I realized.

"As for the money, don't be astonished," Charlotte said, leaning closer and lowering her voice. "Everyone on both sides of Destiny's family is loaded. The difference is I've agreed to do business with the side that's always seemed less fraught with scandal. That's why I immediately gave the nod to the deal with Gwen. It works for both of us. What do you know about her?"

"Only the fact that she's pretty good at keeping secrets. Especially when they're her own."

"What do you mean?" Charlotte wrinkled her brow.

"Nothing." I stood up and dusted crumbs off my lap. "Look, I'm sorry, but I have to rush off. I don't want to be rude, but I have to meet someone. And I might already be too late."

"No worries," Charlotte said, her forehead still wrinkled in consternation. "You'll stop by again for tea?"

But I hardly heard her words as I hurried out the door.

I held my head in my hands and took several deep breaths as the cab bounced forward on the short journey to Kensington. What did all of this mean? Why had Gwen lied to me? The same questions circled through my head over and over, but each time, I wasn't any closer to finding answers. Was Gwen involved in Audrey's death? Feelings of sadness and fear overcame me. No, I was being ridiculous.

I paid the driver and walked tentatively up the steps to Destiny's front door. The house looked still, lifeless, in spite of the well-tended spots of grass on either side of the front stoop. I rang the bell with every ounce of courage I could muster, but deep within, I knew my effort was useless. Of course Gwen wouldn't be here. She had almost told me as much the last time I saw her. She had no intention of staying on for very long.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it," I hissed under my breath as I slid down to the cold stone and sat for a moment to regroup.

"If you're looking for Ms. Garnier, she's left." A child's voice.

I looked up and directly into the round dark eyes of a girl of about six or seven. Her black hair was braided into two waist-length ropes that swung from side to side as she approached.

"I'm Caroline, and I'm the next-door neighbor," she said matter-of-factly. She held out a small hand for me to shake, then smoothed her denim skirt and sat down next to me.

"Nice to meet you," I said, not knowing quite what to say to this girl who was examining me with bright little-adult eyes. "My name is Katherine, and I was... friends... with the lady who used to live here."

"Ah, Destiny! I liked her quite well. She used to give me biscuits, but I had to come over in secret because Mum and Dad didn't like her. They said she was completely mad, but I thought she was nice." Caroline shrugged her small shoulders and rolled her eyes.

"Then she went away, and there was Ms. Garnier," Caroline continued. "Mum and Dad like her because they say she's the only normal member of the family."

"Oh, so Ms. Garnier and Destiny are relatives?" I bit my lip, hoping this little girl would somehow have information that could help me understand the situation.

"Yes, but Ms. Garnier didn't like people to find out."

"Really? How do you know that?"

"Because she told Mum," Caroline said, her eyes widening in excitement over my interest in her conversation. "Ms. Garnier said Destiny was mad too. And she said that if people found out, they would think she was that way as well—because they're related and everything. I would rather be mad like Destiny than be like boring Ms. Garnier. Mum says Destiny moved away, but I don't believe it. I think Ms. Garnier chased her away."

Then she raised an eyebrow and looked at me eagerly.

"Are you the one who's chasing Ms. Garnier away?"

I couldn't help but smile.

"No, I actually came here to see Ms. Garnier... but she's gone?"

"Yes. She told Mum that she was tired of all the... terchery?"

"Treachery?"

"That's it. The treachery in her family and wanted to be far away from them."

Before I had a chance to say another word, a lilting, high-pitched voice made both of us jump with a start.

"Caroline Elizabeth Acres! What on earth are you doing over there?"

A 40-something woman with a perfect blond bob slammed the door of her BMW and marched across the sidewalk. She turned to me first.

"Please excuse us for this," she said to me with a fake smile. "Caroline can be a real concierge. I hope she hasn't been bothering you. Her sister was supposed to be watching her." Then she turned a highly annoyed gaze on her daughter, who had already skipped away and disappeared into the house next door.

"Not at all," I said. "I was coming over here to see Gwen... But your daughter tells me she's left?"

The woman's expression relaxed. I had a feeling it was because I said I was looking for Gwen rather than Destiny.

"Yes, she's returned to France."

"Hmm, I thought she was buying a hotel here in London."

"Really! Well, it's true she was always interested in a new business venture. Quite a businesswoman."

I wanted to ask what she meant by that, as I only knew Gwen's artistic side, but a piercing cry interrupted my thoughts.

"Mum!" The voice of a teenager rang out the front door, followed by a tall, thin girl in jeans. "Caroline is being a pest!"

The woman sighed. "I have to be on my way. Never a dull moment with those two..."

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