Evermore (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #3)(3)

Damnation.

"My dear!" cried Lady Willoughby. She jumped to her feet, knocking the table. The teacups rattled in their saucers. "You're home early."

"No one was at the club except for Preston here," said Lord Willoughby. He bowed to his wife. "My apologies, but I wasn't aware you had guests this afternoon." His friendly gap-toothed smile was bestowed to each of the ladies in turn. Until he got to me. It slipped right off his face. "Er...I don't believe we've had the pleasure."

Lady Willoughby looked like an insect frozen in a block of ice. Her large eyes bulged, accentuating the thinness of her face and long neck. "Oh, uh, yes. This is Miss Emily Chambers and her sister, Miss Celia Chambers."

"You!" Lord Preston stepped forward, looking like a thundercloud about to ruin a picnic. "What are you doing here?"

"We were just leaving." I didn't want an ugly confrontation with him, not in front of women we wanted—needed—as our customers, and not while Lady Preston and Adelaide were present. It would only humiliate them. Something that Lord Preston seemed to care little about.

Adelaide made a small, wheezing sound of misery, but her mother was all action. She moved smoothly to Lord Preston's side and clasped his arm. "What a lovely surprise," she said, situating herself between her husband and me. It didn't do any good. He simply glared at me over the top of her head. "This is a fortuitous meeting," she went on in her placating voice. "You can escort us home. Perhaps we'll send the carriage ahead and we all three can walk. It's not far and the day is pleasant."

Lord Preston blinked. He looked down at his wife and his expression softened. It was only then that I noticed the whiteness of Lady Preston's knuckles as they gripped his arm. He couldn't fail to have felt her fingers through his coat sleeve.

Celia looped her arm through mine and hustled me toward our hostess. "Thank you for your kind invitation," she said as if they were old friends and we had not come to conduct business. Trade of any sort was frowned upon by Upper Society. People should not be seen to earn money, or heard to talk about working for a living. Work was vulgar, coarse, something only the middle and lower classes needed to do. I didn't think we could afford to worry about such niceties, but Celia thought otherwise. She didn't ask Lady Willoughby about payment, nor did she sell our services to any of the other ladies present. It was as if we'd simply stopped by for afternoon tea.

"I'm sorry Lord Fulham couldn't oblige us by staying longer," I said. I felt Celia twitch beside me. So be it. I wanted to give Lady Willoughby an explanation for her father's all-too-brief visit. Whether she believed me or not, I couldn't say, although her polite smile did seem a little pained. "Sometimes it happens. The spirit world is unpredictable."

Lord Preston muttered something from the doorway. It was probably just as well that I couldn't hear him because it mustn't have been kind if Lady Preston's tight-lipped expression was anything to go by. She tugged her husband aside so that we could leave the drawing room. I didn't want to pass him, but I had no choice.

"Goodbye, Adelaide," I said to my friend.

She gave me a reassuring smile, which I returned to the best of my ability. Then I was alongside Lord and Lady Preston. Despite Celia's attempt to drag me past, I paused. And beamed.

"Thank you, Lady Preston," I said. "It's been lovely to see you again."

"And you, Miss Chambers. You and your sister are always welcome at our house."

I won't deny that it felt good to see Lord Preston's face turn a deep shade of violet. He did manage not to splutter his outrage and retract his wife's offer, which must have taken a great deal of effort.

"We shall see you at the ball," Lady Preston went on.

Lord Preston grunted but held his tongue.

Celia finally drew me forward and we were met outside the drawing room by the butler. He escorted us to the front door and paid Celia the amount due for the séance.

"I thought Lord Preston was going to argue with you right in front of everyone," she said once we were on the pavement out the front of the Willoughbys' townhouse.

"I thought his head was going to explode." I laughed. I was feeling reckless and ridiculous all of a sudden. Surviving a battle with Lord Preston always did that to me, and I had not only survived on this occasion, I had won.

We walked through the exclusive area of Belgravia, past tall, slender buildings and along streets swept clean of mud and horse dung. But not even Belgravia could escape London's soot. It dusted front porch steps and window shutters, nestled into the grooves between bricks, and threw a veil across the sky, shielding us from the sun.

"It seems Lord Preston knows we're going to Adelaide's ball," I said, sobering. "I was a little afraid that we'd turn up on the night and he'd throw us out."

"You thought Lady Preston hadn't discussed it with him first?" Celia scoffed. "Of course she had. She wouldn't invite anyone against her husband's wishes."

"I suppose not." I had assumed my invitation was sent before he was shown the guest list to ensure it couldn't be retracted. George's invitation too. "But why would he agree to have me there when he can't bear the sight of me?"

"Because it's obviously important to Adelaide," Celia said. "He wants to make her happy. She is his only surviving child after all."