Midnight Angel (Stokehurst #1)(34)

Tasia smiled. “I suppose we could watch for a while, as long as we remain inconspicuous. But don't expect too much of anyone named Madame Miracle, Emma. She sounds like an unemployed actress to me.”

“I don't care. I want to hear what she says about everyone.”

“Very well,” Tasia said, regarding Emma's crumpled clothes with a critical eye. “But before we go, you might change into your dark blue dress and smooth your hair.”

“It doesn't want to be smooth tonight,” Emma said, pulling at her rebellious curls. “Every time I smash it down, it springs up worse than before.”

Tasia laughed. “Then we'll tie a ribbon around it.”

As she helped Emma to change clothes, Tasia worried silently about bringing the girl downstairs. After all, Lady Harcourt had asked them to stay away from the guests. Although there had been no specific instructions form Lord Stokehurst, he would probably agree with Lady Harcourt's wishes. But Emma had been an angel all day, studying quietly for hours and taking supper in the schoolroom without a word of protest. She deserved a reward for her good behavior, and surely no harm would come of it.

There was a handsome assemblage in the large parlor. Men and women sat in clusters on elegant French couches and chairs with curved backs. Subdued lamplight shed a mellow glow on the silk-covered walls and the sprays of delicate plasterwork. A cool breeze blew through the netting on the windows.

Catching sight of his daughter, Lord Stokehurst disengaged himself from a conversation and walked toward her. He was severely handsome in dark, tailored clothes and a silk waistcoat patterned in moss-green and charcoal. He reached his daughter and leaned down for a brief kiss. “I haven't seen you all day,” he said. “I wondered where you were hiding.”

“Lady Harcourt told us not to—” Emma began, and stopped with a wince as Tasia discreetly poked her in the back. “We've been busy with my lessons, Papa.”

“What did you learn today?”

“In the morning we studied deportment, and in the afternoon, German history. I've been so good all day that Miss Billings said I could watch Madame Miracle from the corner.”

“Madame Miracle,” Stokehurst said with a short laugh, “is a charlatan. You can sit with me at the front, Emma, but only if you promise not to believe a word she says.”

“Thank you, Papa!” Emma beamed and went with him, pausing to glance over her shoulder. “You come too, Miss Billings!”

Tasia shook her head. “I'll stay back here.”

She stared at the center of Stokehurst's broad back as he walked away with his daughter. A forlorn, uneasy feeling came over her. She wondered why he hadn't spared her a single glance. He had deliberately ignored her. Beneath his cool self-possession there had been something tightly reined and threatening.

Her thoughts were diverted as Lady Harcourt drew a black-garbed woman to the center of the room. “If I may have your attention, I would like to introduce our special guest for the evening. In London, Paris, and Venice, Madame Miracle is acknowledged as a clairvoyant with extraordinary powers. There is a rumor that she is frequently consulted by a certain member of our own royal family. Fortunately for us, she has graciously accepted my invitation to join our gathering this evening, and reveal her special gifts for our benefit.”

A ripple of welcoming applause scattered through the room. Tasia retreated to the back wall, her face expressionless.

Madame Miracle was a dark-haired woman in her forties, with kohl-rimmed eyes and rouged cheeks. A brilliant red and gold silk shawl was knotted around her shoulders. She wore jeweled rings on every finger and heavy bracelets that jangled on her wrists. Theatrically she passed an arm over a round table that had been draped with black scarves and weighted with lit candles. There were other objects on the table: a small bowl filled with colored stones, a deck of cards, and a few ornamental figurines.

“My friends,” Madame Miracle began in a dramatic voice, “it is time to shed doubt and earthly limitations as we bid the spirits welcome. Tonight they will come to reveal the mirror to our souls. Prepare yourselves to discover the secrets of the future and the past.”

As the woman continued to speak, Tasia became aware of a whisper nearby.

“Tasia.”

A chill went down her spine, and she turned quickly. Alicia was standing behind her, wearing an irrepressible smile. Obeying her silent gesture, Tasia slipped through the doorway, and they hurried into the empty hall together. Smiling with relief and happiness, Tasia hugged her.

“Cousin,” she exclaimed, “I'm so glad to see you.”

Alicia stood back and grinned at her. “Tasia, you look wonderful! The past weeks have made quite a difference in you.”

Tasia looked down at herself critically. “I haven't noticed any changes.”

“The lines have gone from your face, and your figure has filled out a little.”

“I've been eating. The food is very good here.” Tasia made a face. “Except for the blancmange. They serve it all the time.”

Alicia laughed with her. “You seem to be thriving on it. Tell me, Tasia, are you happy? Are you well?”

Tasia shrugged uncomfortably, tempted to confide about the vision of Mikhail in the mirror, and about her nightmares. But that was all the result of a guilty conscience. She would accomplish nothing by telling Alicia, except to worry her. “I'm as well as could be expected,” she finally said.