Chapter 5 #2
As I sat down, I used the opportunity to inspect Madame Fontaine more closely.
Her dark eyes were lined with kohl, and her lips were painted a deep red.
Her face was heavily powdered, and she had a small beauty mark on her lower left cheek just above her mouth, but I couldn’t tell if it was real or fake.
Either way, I had to commend the woman on a truly excellent costume.
Unaware of my internal critique, Madame Fontaine laid her ungloved hands on the table with her palms facing upward. “Remove your gloves and give me your hands please.”
I peeled off my evening gloves and placed them on my lap before reaching for her. She took my hands in a firm grip, her hands cool and dry, and closed her eyes. A sense of calm slowly drifted over me, and she was quiet for so long that I was tempted to close my eyes as well.
“As I said,” she suddenly began in a low voice, “you have traveled a great distance. Over land and sea—”
“That’s right!” Delia chimed in over my shoulder.
I shot her a scolding look, just as Madame Fontaine cracked one eye open. “No talking, please. I must concentrate.”
“Terribly sorry.”
The fortune teller nodded at Delia’s apology and closed her eyes once more.
“You experienced a great loss and have carried this pain with you for many years,” she continued.
My grip tightened inadvertently, and I silently cursed myself for reacting.
After all, what person my age hadn’t experienced a loss of some kind?
“You are also worried about someone,” she went on. “A child perhaps. But there is no need. I see a brilliant future ahead for them.”
I didn’t need to have my fortune read to know that about either of my children, but just as my mouth began to curve in a smile, Delia leaned over my shoulder. “And what about romance? What about a man?”
“Delia,” I hissed, but Madame Fontaine seemed unperturbed by the interruption this time.
“Ah, yes. I do see a man in your future. He is very handsome. And tall.”
Without warning, I immediately conjured a memory of Mr. Dorian, in his dressing gown, glowering at me, while his dark hair flopped over his brow in an appealing, rakish sort of manner. I cleared my throat and soundly forced the image from my mind.
“Ooh, go on,” Delia urged.
Madame Fontaine frowned, as if she was actually concentrating on something and not just spinning a yarn for our entertainment. “He is a stranger to you, I think. But won’t remain so for long.”
“I like the sound of that,” my sister teased.
“Delia,” I snapped, but I was far more irritated with myself and the disappointment that had swelled inside me. For Mr. Dorian was anything but a stranger.
The fortune teller suddenly opened her eyes and held my gaze with an imploring look. “Tread carefully, madame,” she said. “I cannot say for certain whether this man is to be trusted or not.”
“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 nod before 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 was that bad,” 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 of A 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 is entirely worth 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?”
“Nothing,” she said much too quickly. “I’m fine.”
“What did she say to you?” I asked, as I looked past Delia to Madame Fontaine, but someone else had slid into the vacated chair as soon as it was open, and she was occupied with speaking to them.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s just for fun, like you said.”
I frowned in concern, but before I could press Delia further, Charles joined us.
“Here you are.” He handed Delia a glass of champagne. “I trust Madame Fontaine had nothing but good things to say about your future?”
“Yes,” Delia said as she accepted the glass with a strained smile, but Charles didn’t notice as he was too busy looking around the room.
Someone behind me then caught his attention. “Good God, Dorian,” he suddenly called out with a smile. “You tore yourself away from your typewriter long enough to come down here?”
As I had still been focusing on Delia, I was certain my ears were only playing tricks on me and I had misheard. But then he spoke:
“I made an exception this evening, as I heard Linden always invites the most beautiful women,” he said with a low laugh.
My throat went dry as my face went up in flames, and my haze of good cheer vanished entirely. I knew that voice. I would recognize it anywhere, as it had been haunting me for months.
Charles continued speaking, but I didn’t hear a word.
My ears had begun to ring, and I felt frozen in place.
My gaze was fixed firmly on my sister, who now smiled expectantly at the man just behind me.
The man I was now certain could only be Stephen Dorian.
There was no escape. The doorway was to my back, and even if I did make a run for it, he would clearly see that it was me.
Vaguely, I heard Mr. Pearson introducing Delia. And then …
“… and this is her sister, Mrs. Harper.”
I swallowed my heart, which had momentarily lodged in my throat, and turned around.
“Mr. Dorian,” I said, with as much grace as I could manage. “What an unexpected pleasure.”