Evermore (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #3)(2)
I missed him. I felt hollow without him, like an empty shell washed up on the shore.
"Once they see you having a conversation with a ghost, they'll know that you are a genuine medium," Adelaide went on. She watched the other guests beneath half-lowered lashes, a stern set to her brow that defied anyone to question my authenticity. She was like a bulldog, albeit a pretty, blonde one.
"It's hard to have a conversation with a spirit when they cannot talk to you for very long," I said, pretending not to notice the way all the other guests avoided my gaze.
"Lord Fulham couldn't stay?" Adelaide asked.
"No. The same thing happened with another spirit yesterday. Neither she nor Lord Fulham had the strength to remain. There is something happening in the Waiting Area. Both appeared more faded than usual and neither was able to appear for long. Lord Fulham said it was too difficult." I didn't tell her about the frightened look on his face. It was a look that had unsettled me, but I saw no reason to worry Adelaide.
"Jacob will know more," Adelaide said with certainty. "You should summon him and ask."
I would have dearly loved to do precisely that, but I wasn't sure of the reception I'd receive from him. He'd made it clear the last time we met that he wished to end whatever lay between us. He'd driven the point home by not coming to me since.
A footman entered carrying a tea service on a silver tray. I watched as he deposited cups, saucers, teapot, and other pieces on the table. A lull snuffed out the conversations and I looked up to see everyone watching me. I cast my audience a genteel smile and rose.
"Celia, shall we?"
"Let me gather my things." Celia liked to linger at afternoon séances, especially if our hostess was one of Society's leading ladies. I used to think it was because she enjoyed the sandwiches and buns, but now I knew it was because she wanted to make contacts among London's elite. The fact she did not wish to stay and chat to Lady Willoughby and her guests meant she knew something was wrong and wished to question me.
I sighed. Celia's interrogations were little better than her lectures and always tested my endurance.
Adelaide put a gentle hand on my arm, staying me. There was a gleam in her blue eyes and a flush to her cheeks that wasn't there before. "I wanted to ask you about my coming out ball."
"Celia and I will both be there," I said, cheering a little at the thought. "Did you not get our reply?"
"Oh, yes! We did. I'm so pleased you can come."
"Then what is it? If you need advice on gowns then I'm afraid I'm not the best person to ask." Celia and I could ill afford a new outfit each for the ball, and she had decided I alone would receive one while she wore something older. We'd relied on the dressmaker to advise us of the latest in evening fashions as we had so little experience. People like us were never invited to balls. Ever.
"I have not received an answer from George and the ball is only five days away." She shot a glance at her mother, conversing with Lady Willoughby and an elderly woman with a black veil covering her eyes. "Do you think he'll come?"
"I didn't know George's presence was so important to you."
"Oh. It is. Of course it is. I want all my friends there." She fiddled with a lock of hair at her temple, but it wasn't out of place. It never was. Adelaide had perfect hair, unlike mine, which was coal black and as messy as a child's scribble when I let it loose from its tight arrangement.
"I'm glad you consider George a friend after such a short acquaintance. He's a good man." I'd met George Culvert only recently, but already we were as close as two friends of the opposite sex could be without taking the relationship further. He was an acquaintance of Jacob's and a demonologist with an extensive library on supernatural subjects. It was thanks to his books and his help that Jacob and I had stopped demons and evil spirits from overrunning London.
"He is," Adelaide said quietly. "The best." She blushed again.
"Have you developed feelings for him?" Perhaps it was a little too direct, but I wasn't fond of dancing around important subjects. And what could be more important than the hearts of two dear friends?
Adelaide's blush deepened and she lowered her head but not before I saw her cast another glance at her mother. "The Culverts are not the sort of family of which we approve." It was such an odd thing for her to say that I wondered if she were merely repeating words uttered by her parents. Although George was wealthy, his mother was a social-climbing, small-minded woman, and the late Mr. Culvert had been an eccentric with an interest in the supernatural, like George himself. I could not see the cynical and upright Lord Preston sitting down to dine with a demonologist. Which was why Adelaide's invitation to George had been such a surprise. Her invitation to me was even more extraordinary. Her father didn't like me. He'd called me a fraud to my face and ordered me off his property more than once. Adelaide and her mother must have convinced him somehow, but even so, I wasn't looking forward to seeing him on the night.
"Nevertheless, George is a good man, as you say," Adelaide whispered behind her hand, as if she'd said something wicked.
I opened my mouth to question her further when a middle-aged man walked into the drawing room. Behind him, ducking a little beneath the doorway, stood Lord Preston.