Chapter Two
As Willamina hurriedfrom the maze, several times she had to stop herself from looking back to see if Lord Primrose was watching her rejoin the party. Truth be told, she would much rather spend the evening with him than making the rounds with people she did not know.
Her cousin, Gil, had insisted she attend and try to integrate herself into Edinburgh society. She only listened to him because he currently controlled her assets now that she was a widow. Immediately after Gerard died, her father had taken over whatever holdings and coffers Gerard had owned. That arrangement worked well, and her father had afforded her the freedom to live alone, but since the untimely death of both her mother and father, her fate now rested in the hands of her cousin.
Unfortunately, Gil was not of the same inclination to let her do as she pleased. Instead of allowing her to remain at home in Inverness, he demanded she move to his estate in Edinburgh.
She curtsied at a man that bowed in her direction and lifted a glass of champagne from an offered tray.
Of course, that was not her only reason for leaving Inverness. Her name was quite popular there in the gossip sheets and scandal seemed to follow her after Gerard’s death.
Surveying the crowd scattered across the vast manicured lawn, she wondered if any of the women would be interested inattending a seance? She would have to convince Gil to host one first though.
Unlikely, considering that was why she found herself in her current predicament. Back in Inverness, she had hosted multiple seances. She found them fascinating. Mediums that proclaimed they could talk to loved ones that have passed caught her interest.
Hosting them had become a joy and she had had many women enjoy her parties and the psychics she hired to entertain them. And that they did. She was happy to play a part in connecting them to their lost loved ones. To see the medium passing on messages, stating that those who had passed were at peace, and not to miss them, they would meet once again.
It was all so enthralling, even if they could never connect her with her own lost loved ones. She supposed that meant they had moved on and were too happy in their afterlives to take time to communicate with the living. In the end, that was all she wished for them.
Willamina continued through the crowd, sipping her champagne, trying to mask her grimace. The bubbly drink was too dry for her taste. She much preferred sweeter wines, but she would drink it, nonetheless.
The women in Inverness were grateful to her for bringing such information to them—until they were not.
She supposed she only had herself to blame. Wanting to bring in someone different, she thought it would add some more excitement to the seance. She should have known better. All it did was ruin her reputation and cause her friends to shun her.
How was she to know the woman was a scam artist? In all of the gatherings she had hosted before that one, and of all the mediums she had hired, none of them were fake. But her last party?
It proved to be a disaster.
Clearly, when the woman stated she was psychic and could see things from beyond the grave, it was malarkey. Knocking on Willamina’s door, wearing a ghastly bright orange gown. Well, not really a gown. More like a covering. It was huge and billowy, with gold threads sewn into it in swirling spirals. Her fire red hair was swept into a bun and covered with a cap made of the same orange material but had a huge green and blue peacock feather sticking straight out the front.
Large, gaudy jewels adorned the rings on her fingers, and even bigger jewels adorned the thick gold chain hanging around her plump neck.
When she introduced herself as Lady Esmerelda, Willamina was taken aback. The woman’s look surprised her. It was most unexpected from her previous experience with others she had hired. But Lady Esmerelda came well recommended from a former friend.
Now Willamina learned that the person was no friend and instead one of her husband’s many lovers. Why she held a grudge against her, Willamina had not the faintest of ideas. But that mattered naught now.
The clearly un-medium-like Esmerelda was a phony. And once everyone was there and she started talking nonsense, her eyes rolling back in her head, speaking words that made sense to no one, and then pointing to the guests and speaking in the most demonic voice Willamina had ever heard, herfriendscould not take their leave fast enough.
Since then, she had been labeled a pariah of society. Not once had she ever asked anyone to pay her monies to attend her parties. Whatever coin had been exchanged was done at their own accord, and never to her.
Unfortunately, now they believed she was just trying to take them for their money. As if the mediums were somehow splitting their earnings with her—which they were not. The news theyhad received from their loved ones from the grave no longer mattered. True messages, mind you, not fake ones.
Nay, all of that was quickly forgotten.
And that was how she now found herself in Edinburgh.
She spotted an empty bench and took a seat, watching the people as they passed, hoping they would not heed her any attention.
“Lady Watson.”
She should have known her peace would be short-lived. Standing, she set her glass of champagne down and dropped into a curtsy before assessing the man standing in front of her. Craning her head up, the man was exceptionally tall, but that was where her interest ended. Beady, brown eyes, just a wee bit too close together perused her from her head to her toes, before he dragged his gaze back up and lingered on her cleavage.
Flipping her fan open, she waved it in front of her chest, using it as a barrier to protect herself from his stare.
“Lady Watson,” he repeated, his eyes finally meeting hers. “Your cousin said I could find ye here. I hope ye dinna mind the intrusion?”
From this angle she could see the sharp crook in his nose. It appeared that Mr., well, she did not know his name as of yet, but whoever he was appeared to have broken his nose a time or two.
