“Oh,” I croaked, taken aback by her grave tone. She stared at me for another moment. “I will,” I added, and she looked visibly relieved that I had taken her warning to heart. Then she gave me a small smile before releasing my hands.
The din of the room seemed to grow louder all of a sudden, as if we had been tucked away in a little cocoon. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? I gave my head a dazed shake as I came to my feet.
Charles had rejoined us by then and offered me his arm as Delia took my seat. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“Yes,” I said, as Madame Fontaine gave me a slight nodbefore turning her attention to my sister. “I rather feel that way.”
“Then let us go in search of libations,” he said cheerily as he whisked me from the room. But I sensed that Madame Fontaine’s warning would not be left behind quite so easily.
Charles ushered me into the next room, which contained a number of guests, some in costume, and a long, marble-topped bar filled with various libations.
He turned to me. “What will you have, Mrs. Harper? Another glass of champagne, perhaps?”
“Please.”
“I’d wager the baron is serving much better stuff than that swill Henshaw was serving us at the gallery,” Charles said as he gestured to the man working behind the table.
“I don’t think it wasthatbad,” I demurred, as he ordered my champagne and a glass of whisky for himself. Hadn’t Delia said Charles was a friend of his?
Indeed, he seemed to read my thoughts. “I admire your tactfulness,” he said with a grin, as he handed me my glass. “But it is misplaced. Henshaw is a terrible cheapskate, and we all tease him mercilessly for it.”
“I see,” I said with a laugh.
Charles then raised his glass to mine. “To Delia and the sale ofA Woman Unbound.”
That was certainly something I could toast. As we clinked our glasses, I couldn’t help smiling with approval. I didn’t agree with my father that a man couldn’t be friends with a woman, but my mother had been right to suspect there was more than just friendship between my sister and Charles. And while he was certainly a charming young man, it was his support of Delia’s painting that elevated him in my estimation. As I took a sip, the cool, crisp bubbles fizzed in a burst of flavor.
“Goodness,” I said with surprise. “I really was drinking swill.”
Charles laughed. “I told you. Good champagne isentirelyworth the expense, in my opinion.”
I considered this comment as I took another sip. It was possible he was simply making a joke, but it seemed more likely that Charles Pearson enjoyed the finer things. At issue was whether or not he possessed the necessary funds to support such a lifestyle. Delia would have a good dowry when she married, even larger than mine, since Father’s wealth had grown exponentially since my own marriage. But that meant she needed to be mindful that she didn’t fall prey to a fortune hunter. Privately, I resolved to uncover as much as I could about him before I allowed myself to be further swayed by his charms.
“I didn’t know bluestockings allowed themselves to indulge in vices like champagne,” a familiar voice drawled by my shoulder.
I turned around to face the baron. “They do when it is as good as this,” I parried back.
The corner of his mouth lifted as I took another sip. Why on earth I cared about impressing this man was beyond me, but I couldn’t ignore the little glimmer of pride in my chest. Or perhaps I was just dangerously close to overindulging. Indeed, a kind of lightness began to wash over me. I no longer felt tired or out of place, and as the evening stretched before me, I was filled with a sense of anticipation. Of excitement. I hadn’t felt that way in a long time. At least, not since—
“And how was your reading with Madame Fontaine?” the baron asked, thankfully distracting me.
“Vague enough to sound insightful,” I replied. “She puts on an excellent performance, though. I will give her that.”
“Then you aren’t a believer in the supernatural, Mrs. Harper?”
“No, I am not,” I said primly. “I believe in things that can be proven. Things I can see.”
The baron took a step closer. “And what about the things you can only feel?”
This comment caught me by surprise, and I will admit that, for a moment, I simply stared back at him, a little dumbfounded. “In my experience,” I began in a measured tone, “feelings can often prove to be false upon further inspection.”
He held my gaze as he considered this, then nodded. “Very true.”
I cleared my throat and glanced away, but I could feel the baron’s eyes still upon me. “Excuse me. I need to find my sister.”
The baron immediately stepped aside to let me pass, and I hurried from the room. It had been a harmless comment, but it struck me far more deeply than I had liked. I returned to the drawing room and saw Delia still seated at Madame Fontaine’s table. My sister’s back was to me, but I could see that the medium seemed to be speaking to her with some urgency. Delia then shook her head and shot out of the chair so quickly that I thought it would fall back. As my sister turned around to steady it with her hand, her face was contorted in anguish. I rushed over to her, but as soon as she noticed my approach, she smoothed her expression.
“What’s wrong?”
