Page 22 of Mesmerized

“I am sure you are going to tell me that I was foolish,” Stephen said. “I know I was. It was that woman’s trotting out Roddy like that. I couldn’t bear hearing her use his name to perpetrate her schemes. And to play on my mother’s grief in such a manner!”

It struck Olivia that he had made no mention of Roddy’s widow’s grief. She had also noticed the steel in his voice earlier when he spoke to Pamela. However, she had no intention of mentioning either of those things. She said only, “I know. It is despicable. But your mother wants so badly to believe that Madame Valenskaya can contact your brother that we will never be able to convince her simply with reason. We will have to catch the medium in the middle of her deception.”

“Yes. It is rather clever of her to have the spirits ‘speak through’ her. There’s no rapping at which one can be caught out. And it sounds like her because the spirit supposedly uses her voice. Pretty difficult to disprove that.”

“Yes. But she did the trick with the hand. I feel sure that was a painted glove stuffed with paper or cloth and held up with a telescoping rod. She could easily hide the glove and rod in a large pocket. Her skirts are full. And you’ll remember that she went back to her room before she came to the séance, so she could have slipped the things into her pocket.”

“True. But I can hardly stop her leaving the room and demand to search her pockets.”

“No. We will have to observe what she does, and when, and then, at just the right moment, light a match and reveal her actually doing the trick.”

“Sometimes I wonder if Mother would believe it even if she was confronted with the evidence.” He paused, looking thoughtful, then asked, “But why that talk of unhappy shades, these souls that can’t rest? That’s not the normal thing, is it?”

“No,” Olivia admitted. “That was odd. Usually they talk about the peace and beauty of the other side. After all, that is what everyone wants to hear—that their loved one is happy in the afterlife, that there is no more pain and suffering, and that whenever they, too, die, they will join them in that blissful place.”

“But for some reason she wants Mother to believe that Roderick is unhappy, that his soul is uneasy. What do you want to bet that it will take some certain amount of money to cause his soul to be at peace?”

“No doubt you are right.” Olivia sighed. “I am afraid that Lady St. Leger would be willing to pay almost anything if she thought it would help her son.”

“And completely aside from the money they are going to swindle out of her, there is also the fact that they are causing her pain right now. She is distressed because she thinks that Roderick is unhappy. That he ‘cannot rest.’ The woman is making her miserable, and she will make her even more so before she’s done. She has to make sure that Mother will be eager to pay whatever she asks.”

“You’re right. I’m so sorry.” Olivia laid her hand on his arm in a gesture of sympathy.

He looked over at her, and Olivia could not move, could scarcely breathe. Why did every nerve in her body seem to suddenly come to tingling life?

His other hand came up and covered hers where it lay on his arm. His skin was warm and faintly rough. Olivia felt suddenly hot and melting inside, quivering with sensations she had never experienced before. She thought that she could lose herself in those cool silver eyes, and she was not even sure whether she found the prospect frightening...or alluring.

“Olivia...” Her name was soft on his tongue.

Olivia looked at him, not trusting herself to speak. He leaned toward her fractionally, then stopped. A muscle jumped in his jaw, and he pulled his hand away, then rose to his feet. Olivia sagged slightly with disappointment, then stood up, telling herself not to be a fool. What had she thought was going to happen, anyway? Whatever fancy hairstyle Joan might give her, she would remain the sort of woman a man did not desire.

“Would you care to go riding with me tomorrow morning?” Stephen asked, his voice neutral, his gaze turned slightly away from Olivia. “I can show you around the estate a bit, if you’d like.”

“Yes. That would be very nice.” She was not a good rider, and as a result, she rarely went, but she could not bring herself to turn down the invitation.

“Very good, then. After breakfast?”

Olivia nodded. His invitation meant nothing, she told herself. He had to pretend to be friendly with her; he had invited her, after all, and no doubt his family would consider it odd if he did not spend some private time with her.

Stephen picked up the candelabra to light their way, and they left the room. The warm glow of the candles lit a small circle around them, leaving the rest of the large room in shadows. Neither of them glanced around into the dark recesses of the conservatory, and so they did not see the still, dark form standing silently in the corner of the room, hidden by the fronds of a palm tree.

* * *

OLIVIA AND STEPHEN rode out the next morning about an hour after breakfast. She was happy to see that he had had a docile mare saddled up for her, and that he seemed content to amble along talking and pointing out various landmarks on the way. Their path curved around the stand of trees at the end of the garden, then into the meadow beyond. They rode past farms, and Stephen greeted by name everyone they met in the fields.

When Olivia remarked on it, he shrugged and said, “Well, they are my tenants, after all.”

“Still, I would lay you odds that there are those who know the names of scarcely any of their tenants.”

“Hardly behavior to emulate, I would say,” Stephen replied. He glanced at her. “I am afraid you’ll find I am not your typical aristocrat. Perhaps it comes from being in America for ten years. But I find I care less and less about one’s class. And an estate seems to me more a business venture than some divine right passed down to me.”

“Careful,” Olivia said with a chuckle, “or people will start to label you ‘mad,’ as well. What you just said sounds very much like my brother Reed, who, by the way, I have cast as your friend.”

Stephen turned to her with a puzzled look, and she explained. “Belinda wanted to know how we had met, and I felt it best not to say we had created a commotion at a séance, so I said that you came to call on my brother Reed, and I met you there.”

“Ah, I see. Very wise, I’m sure. And how is it that I know your brother?”

Olivia shrugged. “I shall let you decide that. Perhaps he belongs to your club. Or maybe you met him through some kind of business. He oversees all our family’s finances. He is quite good at it, which is fortunate, for I am afraid that none of the rest of us are. Papa is devoted only to antiquities, and Mama is more concerned about the women’s vote and factory workers’ wages.”