Free The Spiritualist by Megan Chance Page A

taken the trouble to come, I didn’t want to go home with nothing. What could be the harm in asking them all my questions?
    My booted feet slipped and slid on the ice-slick walk as Cullen escorted me to the stoop. I rapped sharply on the door.
    It was opened by the butler. I held out my card. “I know I’m not expected, but—”
    “Come in, Mrs. Atherton,” he said, though he didn’t take my card, nor seemingly glance at it. I was surprised that he recognized me, but I didn’t question it. I stepped inside.
    “They’re upstairs, ma’am,” he explained as he took my cloak. “They’ve only just arrived.”
    “They haven’t started yet?”
    “No, ma’am.”
    I went upstairs. The door to the second-floor parlor was open; I heard the voices beyond it. I remembered the conviction on my husband’s face the last time I’d been here, and it was that memory that shored my determination. I stepped into the parlor.
    Michel Jourdain stood in the middle of a group composed of Robert Dudley and Sarah Grimm, and he was talking animatedly; with every gesture, strands of his hair came loose from its riband to fall into his face. He was wearing gray today, an exquisitely tailored frock coat, and trousers of a silvery hue. As if he felt me there, he stopped speaking and turned, and looked directly at me, and I felt the full and compelling force of his gaze.
    “Evelyn!” Robert Dudley had followed Michel’s glance, and now he came toward me with his hands outstretched. “How wonderful that you’ve come! We were just speaking of you.”
    Sarah came hurrying over. “We’ve heard the news about Peter. Is there any word? Any word at all?”
    I shook my head. “None at all, I’m afraid.”
    “I’m certain there’s nothing to worry about.”
    I said, “I hope not. His family is looking into everything. But I thought perhaps—”
    “Ah! Well, the Athertons will find him soon enough.” Jacob Colville stepped from the corner, where he’d been with Grace Dudley. “You mustn’t fret, Evelyn, truly. You’re with friends. We can help ease your mind.”
    I heard a flurry behind me. I was still standing in the doorway, and down the hall now came Dorothy’s nurses, two of them supporting her as she made her wheezing and difficult way toward us. She was trembling, and the green she wore today only accented the sallowness of her skin, the dark circles beneath her eyes. Ribbons from her hat dangled beside her face like loose and unruly hair, and her neck disappeared into the voluminous folds of a beribboned lace bertha.
    She squinted up at me as they reached the doorway. “Evelyn? Evelyn, is that you?”
    “Yes, it’s me. I’m afraid I’ve come unforgivably uninvited.”
    “Nonsense. There’s no such thing.” As she spoke, Michel Jourdain moved past, brushing against me as he went to her. Dorothy straightened, smiling, and slapped at one of the nurses so he released her arm, and the others let her go into Michel’s keeping. “There you are, my boy. Did you see our Evelyn has returned to us?”
    “ Oui, ma chère. I’ve barely had time to greet her myself.” The moment he touched her, I witnessed a remarkable transformation. Dorothy’s trembling stopped, and the pain I’d seen in her eyes disappeared. Michel again gave me his charming smile. “Did you find us irresistible after all, Madame ?”
    “I’ve come because of Peter,” I said. “He was troubled the night we were at the circle, and—”
    “Troubled?” Dorothy asked sharply. “About what?”
    They were all staring at me as if they had no idea why Peter might have been disturbed. Uncomfortably, Ben’s words to leave it be returned. I forced myself to forge ahead.
    “Over the incident with the gun. I thought perhaps he’d come back here to ask questions.”
    Dorothy shook her head. The ribbons around her face shook with her. “My dear child, we’ve heard nothing. I’d expected him last night, but he never showed. And it seems he isn’t here