The Third Circle

by Amanda Quick

  Victoria stiffened. Then she turned very slowly. Leona knew that she was not seeing hallucinations as Thaddeus had the night he was poisoned. But there was about her a haunted quality that was disturbingly similar.

  “I think about the past,” Lady Milden whispered. “I think about all the mistakes I made. The things I should have done. I think about the losses.”

  “I’ll go and get my crystals,” Leona said.

  23

  AN HOUR LATER she sat back in her chair and looked at Victoria, who was seated on the opposite side of the little writing desk. The glow in the blue crystal that rested on the table between them was fading rapidly now that neither of them was focusing on it.

  “I warned you it can be an exhausting process,” Leona said gently. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, just very tired.” Victoria frowned at the crystal. “Was this the technique you used to save my nephew the other night when he was poisoned?”

  “He told you about that?”

  “He said you saved not only his sanity but very likely his life.”

  “I employed a different crystal, but, yes, the process is the same. Mr. Ware generates a great deal of power, so diffusing his negative energy was a bit of a challenge for both of us but we managed.”

  Victoria raised her brows. “I got the impression that it was actually a very near thing for both of you.”

  “Please remember, Lady Milden, I can help you deal with the insomnia and the bad dreams, but it is not within my power to affect the underlying causes of your melancholia.”

  Victoria straightened her shoulders. “If I can just get some sleep and if the troubling dreams cease I will be able to deal with my emotions.”

  Leona hesitated, uncertain of how far she should go. “Forgive me if I intrude too much into your personal life, but when I channeled your energy a few minutes ago I could not help but notice that you possess a great deal of paranormal power.”

  Victoria made a face. “I’m afraid it runs in the family. Both sides.”

  “In the course of my career I have channeled dream energy for many people, including a number who possess strong senses. People like you, Lady Milden.”

  “What of it?”

  “I have observed that those with powerful talents often suffer greatly from depression and melancholia if they do not exercise their psychical natures.”

  “I see.”

  “They must find their passion if they wish to achieve some measure of contentment and satisfaction in life.”

  Victoria frowned, shocked. “What on earth are you talking about? I assure you, the very last thing I seek is an illicit relationship.” She pursed her lips. “That is for women your age. In any event, I loved my husband very deeply; I have no wish to replace him in my heart.”

  Leona knew her face was turning quite pink, but she plowed on, determined to finish what she had started.

  “I am not talking about sexual passion, Lady Milden. Nor do I mean the sort of love that one feels for the members of one’s family. I refer to those things we do to satisfy something within ourselves. People who possess strong paranormal abilities usually discover that their passion is invariably connected to their talent.”

  “I really have no notion of what you are talking about.”

  “Mr. Ware has his career as an investigator. It allows him to employ his hypnotic talents in a positive fashion.”

  Victoria gave a soft snort. “And without the necessity of going on stage.”

  “Well, yes, that too. The point is, he has found an outlet for the psychical side of his nature that gives him satisfaction.”

  “They call him The Ghost, you know,” Victoria said softly.

  “Who calls him that?” Leona asked, startled.

  “The people on the streets, his informants and those who seek his services but cannot afford to pay him. To be honest, I think he was in danger of becoming a real ghost until he invented his career as a private enquiry agent.”

  “Surely you do not mean that you feared he would do himself some harm?”

  “No, he has far too much willpower,” Victoria said firmly. “He would never hurt his family in that manner. But before he found his passion, as you call it, he had begun to withdraw more and more into himself. His parents had started to worry about his brooding moods. He seemed to be passing through life, as it were, rather than living it.”

  “I understand.”

  “His talent has made things very difficult for him in many ways,” Victoria explained. “Other people who know of his abilities are often uneasy around him. One of the results is that he has never had many friends.”

  “I see.”

  Victoria watched her intently. “It is his talent that has kept him from finding a wife. Women quite naturally are unwilling to marry a man they fear can control them utterly with just the power of his voice.”

  “Mmm, yes, I can see the problem,” Leona said briskly. The last thing she wanted to discuss was Thaddeus’s problem finding a wife. She hurried to get the subject back on track. “He told me that the magnificent conservatory outside this house is the result of his parents’ botanical talents. It is their passion.”

  Victoria hesitated and then nodded. “Yes, I suppose that is true. Odd, I never thought of Thaddeus’s career and the conservatory in quite those terms.”

  “You know the members of your family quite well. Try to imagine any of them without their personal passions.”

  “Indeed, I cannot. If Thaddeus did not have his investigating business and if Charles and Lilly did not have their conservatory, well, I just cannot bear to contemplate what any of them would be like.”

  “Subject to bouts of melancholia, perhaps?” Leona suggested gently.

  Victoria sighed. “You may be right. And to think that I always considered such things mere hobbies or pastimes.”

  “May I ask what form your talent takes?”

  Victoria’s expression tightened. “I’m afraid that my powers are of a useless nature.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Victoria rose and went to lie down on the bed. She arranged the pillow beneath her head and closed her eyes. “I have always had a talent which, for lack of a better word, I call un-matchmaking.”

  “I have never heard of such a talent.”

  “Unfortunately, it seems quite normal to me.” Victoria put her arm over her eyes. “Show me any engaged couple or any husband and wife, and I can tell you immediately whether or not they are well suited.”

  “How extraordinary.”

  “And, as I said, quite useless.”

  “I don’t understand. Why is that?”

  Victoria removed her arm from her eyes and peered at her. “There is little point informing a married couple that they made a huge mistake. Divorce is out of the question for most, especially if there are children.”

  “But what of couples who are considering marriage? I should think they would want to know if they are well suited.”

  “Rubbish. I have discovered that very few people who are swept up in the first flush of mutual attraction wish to be told that they do not belong together.”

  Leona frowned. “Why is that, I wonder?”

  Victoria put her arm back over her eyes. “Because they are generally dazzled or blinded, as the case may be, by more immediate concerns such as passion, beauty, financial or social status or simply the desire to escape loneliness.”

  Loneliness. That was the driving force that had motivated her interest in William Trover two years ago, Leona thought. She had been so alone in those days. At least until Fog had come along. Would she have been willing to listen to a matchmaker if one had tried to warn her that marriage to William would have been a mistake?

  “I understand,” she said quietly. “Those other factors can carry great weight.”

  “Even sharing a daring adventure together can inspire a great passion in some people,” Victoria said dryly.

  Leona wrinkled her nose. “I knew you would
not be able to resist lecturing me about my association with Mr. Ware.”

  “Do not concern yourself. I told you I have no intention of wasting my time.”

  Leona smiled. “I am very grateful. Now, then, about your talent for un-matchmaking.”

  “What of it?”

  “It strikes me that the main difficulty is that you exercise your talents on those who are already matched in one way or another.”

  Victoria made a face. “How else can one apply such a talent?”

  “Well, for what it is worth, Uncle Edward always says that people do not appreciate advice unless they pay for it.”

  Victoria went very still. “Good lord. Are you suggesting that I go into the business of matchmaking?”

  “No need to think of it as going into trade,” Leona said quickly. “You could be a sort of consulting matchmaker. It would have to be very discreetly done, of course.”

  “To say the least.”

  “I suspect that if you let it be known in certain circles that you would be happy to consult for individuals seeking suitable marriage partners you would be overwhelmed with clients seeking your assistance.”

  “What an outlandish notion,” Victoria said. “By the way, I spoke with Thaddeus this morning. He will escort you to the Arcane Society’s first Spring Ball at the end of the week.”

  “What?”

  “The new Master, Gabriel Jones, and his bride are hosting the affair. Evidently they feel that the members of the Society should socialize more. Mind you, I’m not sure that’s an entirely sound notion, but Gabriel is now in charge of the Society and it is clear that he intends to make some changes.”

  “Lady Milden, I really don’t think it would be at all wise for me to attend.”

  “Gabriel has concluded that the Society is far too hidebound and mired in tradition. He thinks there has been too much secrecy over the years. He wants the members to communicate more with each other. Some nonsense about preparing the organization to move into the modern era. Every ranking member of the Society, and that means every member of the Jones family, will be required to put in an appearance.”

  “I am not a member of the Jones family.”

  “No, but Thaddeus is.”

  “What?” She felt as if she were falling down the rabbit hole in the children’s story. “Thaddeus is a Jones? That’s impossible. His last name is Ware.”

  “He’s a Jones on his mother’s side. Prolific family.”

  “Good heavens.” She was so stunned that she could not think of anything else to say. “Good heavens. A Jones.”

  “I have sent a message to my dressmaker,” Victoria continued. “She will arrive here this afternoon at two o’clock to present us with some designs for your gown.”

  Leona struggled to recover her scattered wits. “Lady Milden, I don’t want to sound rude, but attending an Arcane Society ball, especially with a member of the Jones family, is out of the question.”

  Victoria took her arm away from her eyes again. “Really, Miss Hewitt, if you are going to engage in an illicit liaison with my nephew, the least you can do is learn to conduct yourself with more composure. That expression of slack-jawed horror is not at all becoming.”

  “Lady Milden—”

  “You’ll have to excuse me. I am going to sleep now.”

  24

  SHE WAS WAITING for him when he walked into the library shortly before two o’clock. The moment Thaddeus saw her, he knew he was confronting a brewing storm.

  Leona put down the old leather book that she seemed to carry with her everywhere and glared at him from the sofa.

  “It’s about time you got home, sir.”

  Amused, he reached down to pat Fog, who had ambled forward to greet him. “Such gentle words of feminine welcome are bound to warm the heart of any man upon his return to the bosom of his family, aren’t they, Fog?”

  Fog grinned and licked his hand.

  Leona’s scowl darkened. “This is no time for humor, sir.”

  “Very well, let’s try another approach.”

  He crossed the room to the sofa, hauled her upright, straight off her feet, and kissed her soundly. He released her before she could even think of struggling. She dropped back down onto the sofa, momentarily stunned. He seized the opportunity to get to the safety of his desk.

  “Now, then,” he said, sitting down, “to what do I owe this charming greeting?”

  “I spoke with your aunt this morning while you were out. She said that you were going to escort me to the Society’s first Spring Ball.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “I seem to recall that she did say something to me along those lines.” He raised his brows. “Is that a problem?”

  “Of course it is a problem. I cannot possibly attend such a formal event with you.”

  Her unexpected vehemence twisted something deep inside him. Until now he had considered the Spring Ball as merely another move in the deadly game he was playing with the crystal thief. But suddenly it all became personal. Leona was his lover, damn it. Women were supposed to enjoy wearing spectacular gowns while they danced with their lovers.

  Spectacular gowns. Of course. He should have understood immediately. Leona could not possibly afford a ball gown.

  “I’m sure my aunt will see to an appropriate gown, if that is what you’re worrying about,” he said.

  “As it happens, the dressmaker is due at any moment.” She waved that aside. “The gown is the least of my concerns.”

  “Then what the devil are your concerns?”

  “Lady Milden made it clear that the Spring Ball will be an important social event within the Society.”

  “Very important. You could call it a command performance.”

  “In which case,” she concluded grimly, “we must assume that many of the investors in my uncle’s investment scheme will be present.”

  “Ah, so that is the problem.” He settled back in his chair, relaxing a little. It was not the fact that he would be her escort that alarmed her; it was her fear of being recognized as Pipewell’s niece. That he could deal with.

  “Rest assured, you have nothing to worry about,” he said.

  “Are you mad? Two years ago I worked crystals for all those investors. If I am recognized, someone will surely summon the police. Think of your own reputation, if you will not consider mine. Lady Milden says that you are a Jones.”

  “Mother’s side.”

  “I’m sure your family would be appalled if your name were to appear in the press in connection with mine.”

  He laughed. “It would take a good deal more than that to appall my family.”

  “Thaddeus, I am very serious about this.”

  “You told me that when you were with your uncle you were always careful to wear a heavy veil and conduct your appointments in darkened rooms.”

  “Uncle Edward always said that people prefer a bit of mystery.”

  “He’s probably right, but I suspect that having you wear a widow’s costume was his way of trying to protect you in case there was trouble.”

  She blinked, briefly sidetracked by that possibility. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “No doubt because your uncle never mentioned that there might be a very practical reason why you would need to remain anonymous.”

  She sighed. “I suppose he might have had some concerns along those lines.”

  “None of the investors saw your face, though, correct?”

  “That is correct.”

  He widened his hands. “In that case, there is no reason to worry that anyone will recognize you at the ball. To be frank, I doubt that there would be a problem, even if your clients had seen you during those sessions.”

  “How can you say that?” she asked, bewildered.

  He smiled. “People see what they expect to see. You would not be recognized for the simple reason that it would never dawn on anyone that Pipewell’s niece would have the nerve to appear at the Spring Ball on the arm of the nephew of one of h
is most prominent victims.”

  “What?”

  “You will recall Lord Trenoweth? The gentleman who first became suspicious of Pipewell and sounded the alarm that ignited the scandal?”

  “Good heavens. Your uncle?”

  “On my mother’s side.”

  “Good grief.” Staggered, she collapsed back into the corner of the sofa. “My uncle relieved Trenoweth of several thousand pounds.”

  “Taking the positive view, which, I have been assured, is always the best course of action, he was well able to sustain the loss. My uncle is a wealthy man. Pipewell hit his pride a lot harder than his bank account.”

  She lowered her face into her hands. “I don’t know what to say.” “Say you’ll allow me to escort you to the Spring Ball.”

  Slowly she raised her head, eyes narrowing. “Why are you so determined that I attend the ball?”

  He leaned forward and folded his arms on the desk. “I will admit that when my aunt mentioned it this morning, it was not at the top of my list of priorities. But I have since changed my mind.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it may help us recover the aurora stone.”

  For an instant she looked as if she had just been struck by lightning.

  “Thaddeus.” She leaped to her feet and swept across the room. Flattening her hands on the surface of his desk, she leaned forward, eyes brilliant with excitement. “Attending the Spring Ball is part of your plan to find the crystal? How?”

  He lounged back in his chair again, enjoying the gentle wash of her highly stimulated aura. It aroused him in ways he could not even begin to describe.

  “I have just come from speaking with Caleb, a man who can weave patterns from strands of chaos. Some say he does it to a fault. Be that as it may, it is his talent.”

  “Yes, yes, go on.”

  “He has done a great deal of research in recent days. As you know, the stone has traded owners many times during the past two hundred years, but there was always, according to Caleb, a pattern.”

  “What sort of pattern?”

  “First, all those who have had possession of the stone have also had some connection to the Arcane Society.”