Page 65 of Deposed

“Charlotte’s going to do something to the girls to make sure they satisfy the boys who paid to attend her orgy.”

Chapter 22

For a moment, everyone went silent as the words soaked in. Even Duncan stared up at me with his jaws slackened. The sun reflected off the lenses of his thick glasses, obscuring most of his expression, but I hoped he realized the need to spill everything he knew about the girls’ whereabouts.

Henry grabbed Duncan by the collar and pulled him to his feet. “What happens to the girls targeted by those who aren’t gentlemen?”

“This wasn’t my party,” Duncan squeaked. “Don’t blame me!”

“Tell us where it is,” I said.

Duncan’s body went limp, and he stared into the lawn, pressing his lips together as though they might spill the truth. I turned to Edward, then Blake, then Henry, searching their faces for ideas as to why Duncan wouldn’t give us the location of the party. He clearly knew Charlotte’s plans.

I scratched at my temple. “Why would you be so loyal to someone who left you behind?”

“Oh, I get it!” Blake wagged his finger at Duncan. “Charlotte was your choice. You’ve already gotten your ‘quite a lot, actually,’ haven’t you?

His cheeks turned even redder. “A gentleman never tells.”

“No, but an idiot does,” said Blake.

Henry punched Duncan in the stomach. I winced and wrapped my hands over my belly. “Sorry, old chap,” said Henry. “This is taking too long. Tell us the location of Charlotte’s party, or I’ll turn you into a smudge on the grass.”

“Ugh! Alright… alright.” Duncan spat on the grass. “It’s at the London apartment Charlotte’s father owns. The one involved in the expenses scandal.”

“Do you have the address?”

He shook his head. “But it will be in one of the Saturday Correspondent articles.”

“Let’s go,” I said.

Edward pulled out his phone and made his way back to Elder House. “I’ll arrange a car.”

Following him, I pulled my new smartphone out of my pocket. “I’ll visit the Correspondent’s website.”

As I clicked through the articles, Blake walked by my side, keeping a hand on the small of my back. Moments later, someone shrieked. I turned around to find Henry carrying a struggling Duncan over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Bringing him along for insurance.”

* * *

The five of us sat in the back seat of the limo. Duncan slouched in the seat opposite, nursing a consolation glass of champagne Edward poured for him.

I scrolled down the article and found a picture of a four-story townhouse with a bright red door behind a small monkey puzzle tree. “The address is Erasmus Road, London. But it’s a house.”

“Divided into flats?” asked Henry.

“Hold on.” I scanned the article, scrolled past a picture of the tenant, a furious-looking Asian man, and found a relevant paragraph. “It says here that it’s a ground-floor, river-front flat within the division bell, whatever that is.”

Edward pressed the limo’s intercom and repeated the location to the driver, while Henry explained that the division bell was a boundary set by the British parliament to make sure that its members could reach the building within eight minutes if the emergency bell was rung.

Then he leaned back in his seat. “We’ve got an hour and a bit to spare before we break up this party. How are we going to spend it?”

“Spin the bottle,” said Blake.

“No!” Duncan hugged his champagne glass to his chest.

Nobody took any notice of him. I glanced at Henry. Maybe a game might break the ice between us, and make things easier when we had our conversation later in the evening. “I’ve got an idea. It’s more of a contest, really?”