Evermore (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #3)(8)

"Of course," I said. "I wouldn't do anything so stupid."

Celia huffed.

Jacob narrowed his eyes. "For once I agree with her. Do not do anything yet except go through the books in George's library. If you can't find something there, we'll have to wait for the Administrators to guide me when they're ready."

I expected Jacob to disappear to conserve his energy, but he remained, watching me intently. It was unnerving but exhilarating at the same time. He was the most handsome man I knew, his features strong and defined. There were no weak lines on his face or in the set of his broad shoulders. He wore only the shirt and trousers he'd died in, and I couldn't stop my gaze wandering to the gap where his shirt opened at his chest. I wanted to kiss him there, feel the smooth skin and tease a sigh from his lips.

He suddenly faded again and I opened my mouth to call him, but he returned.

"Are you all right?" My heart pulsed in my throat and I swear I could hear the clang my nerves made as they jangled.

He nodded. "Emily, do you recall that I said I would look for your father in New South Wales?"

I waved my hand in dismissal. "Never mind that now. There are more important things to be done first."

"Your situation is important too, Em."

"Thank you." I gave him a grim smile. "But it can wait. Besides, you may not be able to travel so far in this state."

"When this is over, and if I am able, I will find him for you."

"You won't need to go anywhere," said Cara from the doorway. My ten-year-old aunt nodded a greeting at Jacob as she came into the drawing room carrying a plate of almond biscuits. She was a medium, like me, the ability to communicate with spirits having been passed down to us from our distant African ancestors. She looked pretty with her dark wavy hair tied up with blue ribbons. She wore a matching blue dress that used to be mine, but Celia had pulled it out of the attic and given it to Cara when she came to live with us.

"What do you mean?" I asked her.

"He's here in London."

"My father? Your brother?"

"I seen him," Cara said, setting the plate on the table.

I waited for Celia to correct her sentence, but she didn't. My sister must have been shocked into stupidity by Cara's announcement. One glance at her proved otherwise, however. She sat primly on the edge of the sofa, her gaze upon her hands in her lap. It was only on closer inspection that I noticed them shaking.

"He came here while you were out," Cara said. "Lucy let him in and I watched them talking. He didn't see me."

"Do you mean the man who didn't leave his name or calling card?" I asked.

"He looked like us," she said, her serious eyes fixed on me. "Only a little bit darker."

No wonder Lucy had been eyeing me surreptitiously when she said a man had come calling. She must have suspected he was my kin but had not wanted to broach the subject of our similarity, or had not known how to do so politely.

"Did he say anything else?" I pressed Cara. "Did he mention where he is staying?"

She shook her head. "He asked if Mrs. Chambers and Miss Celia Chambers still lived here. Lucy told him Mrs. Chambers was dead and you two were out. Then he left."

"What was his reaction to the news of our mother's death?" I asked. "Did he seem upset?"

She shrugged one shoulder.

"I wonder why he came back from New South Wales." It was all so surreal, so fantastical, that I couldn't quite take it in. My father, Louis, was back and he'd come looking for us. We thought he'd made a new life for himself in that far-off land and didn't want past relationships to interfere with it. That's what Louis' father, my grandfather, had told us. Since Mama and Celia never heard from him again, we'd assumed old Mr. Moreau spoke the truth.

"Tea," said Celia. The single, decisive word punctured my thoughts. "Where's Lucy? We must have our tea."

I caught Jacob watching me, his finger slowly stroking his lips. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I think so. My grandfather will probably know where he is." I rose, but Celia pulled me back down onto the sofa with a hard jerk.

"You are not going anywhere," she snapped. "And you are certainly not going to see that madman."

"But my father—"

"No! If Louis wishes to visit us, then let him come." She smoothed down her skirts, so it was difficult to see if her hands still shook. "We will not go chasing him around the city. Understand?"

"Yes, Celia."

She squeezed my arm then rose and left the drawing room muttering about tea.

Jacob sighed. "You're going to visit your grandfather, aren't you?"

I nodded. "Of course."

"Good," said Cara. "I'll come too. I don't like being left out." She arched her eyebrows at me then at Jacob, a childishly defiant gleam in her eyes.

I sighed. "How much did you hear?"

"Everything."

The defiance vanished and she knelt on the floor in front of me. She clasped my hands. "You can trust me, Emily. I want to help."

"And you will," I said to placate her.

"Indeed," Jacob muttered. "We may need all the help we can get."