“Consider it done,” the baron said.
I briefly considered asking him if Mrs. Pearson would be in attendance, but decided it was better to claim ignorance on that front. If the police learned that Delia had gone to Charles Pearson’s flat that night specifically to discuss his marital state, they might consider it a motive for murder, and the investigation would be further diverted away from finding the true killer. Besides, there was someone else I could speak to if I wanted to learn more about this supposed spouse.
“Could you allow me another imposition on your kindness, my lord?”
He leaned forward a little in interest. “Certainly.”
“I was hoping to contact the medium at your party.”
“Madame Fontaine?” He sat back in surprise.
“Yes, do you know where I might find her?”
The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. “Why? Are you thinking of hiring her for a soiree?”
“No, nothing like that. Just something she had said during my reading that I wanted clarification on. It’s silly, I know.” I lowered my head, pretending to be bashful and hoped it worked.
The baron chuckled as he pulled out a card case from his jacket pocket. “Say no more, Mrs. Harper.” He flipped through a handful of cards, then stopped. “Ah. Here we are.” He held up a card and read the front while waggling his eyebrow: “Madame Fontaine: Acclaimed Medium and Spirit Guide to the Other Realm,” he read with dramatic flair before handing it to me. “She is in Soho.”
“Thank you very much,” I replied, as I took the card from him.
“I must say, I’m a bit surprised,” he added, giving me an assessing look.
I tilted my head, genuinely curious. “Why?”
He shrugged. “You didn’t strike me as the superstitious sort.”
I wasn’t, in fact. And yet I couldn’t help feeling rather offended by his judgement. “Sorry to disappoint,” I said a bit icily.
“I never said I was disappointed,” he murmured, while holding my gaze. “Merely intrigued by what she told you.”
Something about the way he looked at me caused my cheeks to heat, and my mind scrambled for a reply. This conversation had spun away from me rather quickly. “It … it was to do with my late husband.”
“Oh.” This had the intended effect, as the baron sat backin his chair, while the gleam in his eyes dimmed. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” I said with a gracious nod as another opportunity presented itself. “Perhaps you knew him. Oliver Harper? He was a student at King’s College.”
The baron furrowed his brow. “Was he a relation of the Viscount Mandeville?”
“The viscount is his older brother.”
“Ah, well then. I’m afraid I didn’t know your husband, but I was friendly with Harry. Good chap. Haven’t seen him in years. How is he?”
“Fine,” I replied, forcing my mouth into a smile and hoping he didn’t notice my clipped tone.
The baron waited a moment, and when it was clear I wouldn’t offer any further update on my brother-in-law, he returned my bland smile. “Well, I don’t want to keep you. I just came to pay my respects and tell you about the funeral.”
“It is very much appreciated,” I said, as we both stood.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Harper,” he said with a short nod, then headed for the door. Just as he reached it, the baron paused and looked back at me. “And do let me know how your visit with Madame Fontaine goes,” he added. “I find myself rather curious if her talents extend beyond entertaining my guests at parties.”
Then he disappeared into the hall before I could reply. Alone once more, I sat back down on the sofa and turned over the card in my hand.
Though the baron seemed like the type of man who set out to charm every woman he met, I couldn’t help feeling a little flattered by his attentions, as shallow as they might be. I was not used to being in the company of such a man, and it was a good reminder that things were different in London. Especially now that I was no longer an unmarried young lady. I would be treated much differently as a widow and had heard tales of women who reveled in unparalleled levelsof freedom granted by their new status. While I wasn’t interested in engaging in anything close to wild, reckless debauchery, I could admit it was intriguing to think of having new experiences. In many ways, my life on Corfu had been small and simple. That had also been by design, of course. And in the years after Oliver’s death, I needed the pace of my life to be slow and predicable. But now, for the first time since I had arrived, I pictured all that the great metropolis of London had to offer and felt a little rush of excitement. An eagerness to see what lay in store. I looked down again at the card in my hand and my fingers curling around the edges. It seemed my first stop would be a visit to Soho.
I looked in on Delia before I left and was relieved to find her fast asleep. Then I dashed off a quick note, explaining how the baron had stopped by to pay his respects and that I would come visit her again tomorrow. I decided not to mention the funeral, at least not yet. She was certainly in no state to attend, and in her condition, it could be much too overtaxing.
Rather than take the family coach and risk someone gossiping about my destination, I decided to hail a hansom cab. The journey from our genteel little corner in Portman Square down to Soho was quite different in the daylight than it had been the other evening. As we drew closer to the location of Madame Fontaine’s salon, the streets grew more crowded, the shopfronts shabbier, and the pavement littered with all kinds of discarded refuse.
