Thusly, two slightly battered people with old wounds destined to every now and then ache held each other fast and forgave.
“St. Leger is a brave man, Angelique. You have my permission to make love to him if the two of you are the last humans standing in an apocalypse.”
She gave a shout of laughter.
And she kissed him, lingeringly. He sighed, with pleasure, against her lips.
“Do I have permission to make love to my husband right now?” she murmured.
“Permission granted,” he growled, and he tugged her down with him onto the bed.
Chapter Thirteen
Two days later...
Delilah had become attuned to the usual daily music of The Grand Palace on the Thames. There were the main themes—the clatter of dishes and the thwack of knives on wood in the kitchen; Mr. Delacorte snoring at night; Gordon’s little cat feet galloping up and down the halls. Then there were the melodies new guests brought with them—thundering footsteps and giggling maids for the German trio, for instance.
There came a point about midday when she realized the house had gotten strangely quiet. No big feet galloping up and down the stairs. No hearty, echoing laughter, German chatter, or giggling maids.
What was one more layer of dread and portent? Delilah thought.
She thought it best to investigate.
Two of the maids were in the kitchen, doing their jobs and following Helga’s orders like little angels. She’d count that as a blessing. She found Rose diligently dusting one of the rooms. This brought another rush of relief.
She found Dot dusting the mantel in the pink sitting room.
Mr. Pike was on the second floor, trimming candles. He likely would have seen guests coming and going. “Have you seen young Lord Vaughn this morning, Mr. Pike?”
“Not since breakfast, Mrs. Hardy. I don’t believe he went back up to his room, nor did I see them go out. Mr. Delacorte is in his room, I believe, and Mr. St. Leger went out very early this morning and hasn’t yet returned.”
No ghostly strains of violin or violoncello wafted through the passage. They were diligent about practicing, their guests. So this was very unusual, too.
It was entirely possible the Germans, Mr. McDonald, and St. John had all gone on an expedition into the relentlessly wet world, which was within their rights, of course. It seemed improbable, as St. John was so fond of comfort, and it would have involved a lot of damp effort, and Mr. McDonald was so very easily irritated.
“Does it seem quiet to you?” Delilah asked from the foyer when her husband appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Yes,” he said fervently and gratefully.
“It’stooquiet.”
He listened. Then sighed. “You’re right. Let’s go on a little expedition.”
He said this just as Angelique appeared on the landing, too. “Does it seem quiet in here to you two?” she asked.
“Come with us. We’re off to investigate.” Captain Hardy took Delilah’s hand and the three of them headed downstairs for the little passage that connected The Grand Palace on the Thames to the Annex, where the ballroom and all the suites were located.
Voices as they approached the ballroom. The door was open, as usual.
Captain Hardy put his finger to his lips.
Hans, Otto, Friedreich, St. John, and, startlingly, Angus McDonald, were crouched in a circle around something in the middle of the ballroom floor.
“What on...” Delilah mouthed. “Is it a séance?” she whispered.
And then they heard a rattling sound, almost as if a little ball were being shaken around the rim of a wheel.
But surely not?
