He gave her an indulgent smile. “That is what I’ve heard. But you go on ahead. I believe I spotted a business associate in the hall just now and should speak to him. I’ll join you in a bit.”
“All right.” Delia nodded, unconcerned, and pulled me across the room. Madame Fontaine immediately took notice of us and tracked our approach with her dark eyes.
“What kind of business does Mr. Pearson do?” I asked.
Delia glanced back at me and shrugged. “Something in antiques. But it’s really more of a lark for him. I don’t think he makes much money off it.”
I very much wanted to ask how exactly hedidmake money then, but we had reached the table. Delia released my hand and sat down on the open seat.
“Good evening. I’d like a reading, please.”
Madame Fontaine stared at her for a moment, then lifted her gaze to meet mine. “I’d prefer to read your sister first, if you don’t mind,” she said softly, in a low voice with an indecipherable accent that seemed to waver between French and Russian pronunciations.
Delia gasped, and I will admit that I was equally shocked, though I managed to hide it behind a smile. “I’m not interested in a reading,” I said politely.
The woman arched one dark brow. “No? Not even after you came all this way?”
I frowned at her intentionally vague response, but Delia was enthralled. She turned around in her chair and grasped my hand. “Youmust.”
“Very well,” I relented. “But only for fun,” I added, shooting Madame Fontaine a stern look while Delia practically leapt to her feet.
“Of course,” she said with a sage nod and gestured to the now-empty chair. “Please, sit.”
As I sat down, I used the opportunity to inspect Madame Fontaine more closely. Her dark eyes were lined with kohl, and her lips were painted a deep red. Her face was heavily powdered, and she had a small beauty mark on her lower left cheek just above her mouth, but I couldn’t tell if it was real or fake. Either way, I had to commend the woman on a truly excellent costume.
Unaware of my internal critique, Madame Fontaine laid her ungloved hands on the table with her palms facing upward. “Remove your gloves and give me your hands please.”
I peeled off my evening gloves and placed them on my lap before reaching for her. She took my hands in a firm grip, her hands cool and dry, and closed her eyes. A sense of calm slowly drifted over me, and she was quiet for so long that I was tempted to close my eyes as well.
“As I said,” she suddenly began in a low voice, “you have traveled a great distance. Over land and sea—”
“That’s right!” Delia chimed in over my shoulder.
I shot her a scolding look, just as Madame Fontaine cracked one eye open. “No talking, please. I must concentrate.”
“Terribly sorry.”
The fortune teller nodded at Delia’s apology and closed her eyes once more. “You experienced a great loss and have carried this pain with you for many years,” she continued. My grip tightened inadvertently, and I silently cursed myself for reacting. After all, what person my age hadn’t experienced a loss of some kind?
“You are also worried about someone,” she went on. “A child perhaps. But there is no need. I see a brilliant future ahead for them.”
I didn’t need to have my fortune read to know that about either of my children, but just as my mouth began to curvein a smile, Delia leaned over my shoulder. “And what about romance? What about aman?”
“Delia,” I hissed, but Madame Fontaine seemed unperturbed by the interruption this time.
“Ah, yes. I do see a man in your future. He is very handsome. And tall.”
Without warning, I immediately conjured a memory of Mr. Dorian, in his dressing gown, glowering at me, while his dark hair flopped over his brow in an appealing, rakish sort of manner. I cleared my throat and soundly forced the image from my mind.
“Ooh, go on,” Delia urged.
Madame Fontaine frowned, as if she was actually concentrating on something and not just spinning a yarn for our entertainment. “He is a stranger to you, I think. But won’t remain so for long.”
“I like the sound of that,” my sister teased.
“Delia,” I snapped, but I was far more irritated with myself and the disappointment that had swelled inside me. For Mr. Dorian was anything but a stranger.
The fortune teller suddenly opened her eyes and held my gaze with an imploring look. “Tread carefully, madame,” she said. “I cannot say for certain whether this man is to be trusted or not.”
