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Here, the last distinct vision began to dim, and yet Audrey could see a young woman in the glasshouse, her tearful dark eyes illuminated by the lantern. Her lips moved, though it took a moment for the muffled sound of her words to follow: “I know you’re angry, but please, Tobias, you must go.”

Like a cube of sugar dissolving in hot tea, the woman, and the glasshouse around her, disintegrated. The corridor and Tobias returned to Audrey’s sight, and she tore her hand away from his watch. She sucked in a deep breath, her heart racing.

It had been months since a vision had taken her by surprise. They had afflicted her for almost as long as she could remember, and the puzzling ability had shaped her life in several ways, both positively and negatively. Most recently, Audrey had been able to use the visions for good, especially while helping Hugh solve inquiries.

Usually, she was careful about closing her mind before touching objects made of metal, glass, or wood. The energy these materials stored would channel into Audrey’s mind and form visions, showing her whatever the object had most recently been privy to. She would see people, their actions, and the places where the object had been, and she would sometimes hear sounds and voices.

The fob watch had shown Audrey where Tobias had been that evening before arriving at the house. The energy always faded the farther back it stretched, causing the most recent energy—Mrs. Peets, their cook, scowling at Tobias as he’d arrived—to come through clearly, while the young woman in the glasshouse—the last dregs of energy stored within the watch—had been grainy.

Tobias, his eyes shut, was still leaning against the wall. He rubbed at his temple. “I’m shorry, I… Hell. Michael will throttle me.”

Audrey was careful to only touch his shoulder now. Fabric, too, would give off some energy, but as with paper, it was not nearly as potent as the gold of his watch. She had now also closed the door to the energy, something she had trained herself to do long ago.

“He needn’t know,” she said and, thankfully, spotted Rivers at the end of the corridor. She signaled the footman and, keeping her voice low, asked him to take Tobias to the kitchen for a cup of strong coffee.

“Don’t tell Genie, but you’re my favorite shister-in-law,” Tobias mumbled as Rivers began to peel him from the wall.

Audrey laughed. “Your secret is safe.” But then, thinking of the young woman in the glasshouse, she asked, “Where were you earlier, Tobias?”

His befuddled expression became oddly lucid. “At the club.”

“All evening?” she asked.

“Yes. Having too many whiskies, apparently.”

The lie was well done. He had been at a club, as she’d seen in her vision. But he hadn’t been there all evening. Purposefully not mentioning the young woman, however, only made Audrey wonder who she was…and why Tobias might have been angry with her.

Chapter

Two

The windows of the terraced rowhouses at Cumberland Place glowed through falling sheets of wet snow. Located near the northeast corner of Hyde Park, the block was a wealthy and respected area, home to titled aristocrats and those of the upper class. As such, it was a place Hugh Marsden would have had no call to visit before he’d received the title of viscount. Unless, of course, he’d been summoned there in his role as Bow Street principal agent.

As an agent, he would have been made to enter the home via the servant’s entrance. Now, however, he went to the front door of Number 7 Cumberland Place and brought the knocker down twice. Sir stood next to him, his knobby shoulders hunched against the inclement weather.

“I hope Mrs. Peets saves me a few slices of that cake she made for dessert,” the boy said. “The cold always makes me hungry.”

“Everything makes you hungry,” Hugh replied.

“I can’t help it if I’m growing.”

He was, indeed. Sir had shot up at least an inch since the wedding. The boy didn’t know the exact date of his birth, but he put himself around thirteen years of age. His mother and younger sisters were now happily ensconced in Surrey, in a cottage on the Cranleigh estate grounds, but Sir had not been given such an auspicious start in life. Born in the East End slums to an abusive father and a meek mother, he’d been out on his own for a long time before Hugh met him a few years ago. He’d first employed Sir as a personal messenger of sorts; then, when he’d proved highly astute, Hugh had given him tasks related to inquiries. Now, Sir was more like a partner—one Hugh could depend on unswervingly. Much like Audrey was to him.

She’d wanted to come with them tonight, that much had been clear. But in her condition, and with a dinner table full of guests, it had not been possible.

Sleety snow slipped between Hugh’s hat and muffler, and with a muttered curse, he brought down the knocker a third and fourth time. The door fell away from his hand at once, revealing a harried-looking servant.

“Lord Neatham,” Hugh announced himself. “I’ve been summoned here by Sir Gabriel Poston.”

“Let him in, Sikes,” an unfamiliar voice snapped from within the entrance hall. The servant stepped aside, and Hugh and Sir gratefully abandoned the front step.

“Glad you could make it, Marsden.” This voice, deeper and calmer, belonged to Sir Gabriel, and as Hugh removed his hat and started to unwind his muffler, the chief magistrate and another man approached. Hugh presumed this man to be the Member of Parliament who resided here.

“Keep those on. You’ll want them,” Sir Gabriel advised, then turned to gesture to the second man. He was well-dressed, tall and wiry, and judging by his darting, alert eyes, highly unnerved.

“This is Victor Messinger,” the chief magistrate said. “May I introduce Hugh Marsden, the Viscount Neatham.”

The introduction failed to put Victor Messinger at ease. His attention skipped distrustfully toward the boy at Hugh’s side.