Valentine's Vow (Avenging Lords Book 3)

by Adele Clee

  Drake came to his feet and straightened to his full height as he made the introductions. “I am honoured you could find the time to attend our little gathering.”

  Mr Cassiel’s assessing gaze roamed over the guests like the essence of a malevolent spirit seeking the weakest upon which to prey.

  “I work on recommendation, Mr Drake.” There was a cadence to his voice that was almost holy, like that of a monk who formed his words with great thought and insight. “Lady Valentine was particularly kind during my visit, as was Miss Kendall.”

  Ava looked up from her lap and pasted a confident smile. “My appreciation of your talent has left me desperate to hear more, sir.”

  The warm glow of pride settled in Valentine’s chest. No one would know that the man’s presence made her uncomfortable.

  Mr Cassiel inclined his head. “Then I pray I bring you more comforting news this evening.”

  “Cassiel, it is an unusual name,” Dariell said from his fireside chair. “It is what actors call a stage name, no?”

  Mr Cassiel’s dark eyes flashed with suspicion. “I assure you, there is nothing staged about my ability to hear the deceased,” he replied without answering the question.

  “I did not imply there was,” Dariell countered. “I am merely curious whether you found the name, or it found you.”

  “The dead found me when I was five years old and have clung to me ever since. I hope that answers your question.”

  Dariell studied Cassiel for a moment and then rose from the chair. “Well, I must bid you all farewell. As a sceptic, I would not wish to ruin the party.”

  Mr Cassiel’s shoulders relaxed. Oddly, he did not attempt to persuade Dariell to stay. Were men of his ilk not desperate to convert non-believers?

  Dariell said good night and left the room. The front door opened and closed, but they all knew the Frenchman had not left the house. Where he had gone and how he planned to hide in the window seat was a mystery.

  Drake gestured to Dariell’s empty seat. “Please sit down, Mr Cassiel.”

  The man thanked Drake and took a seat. His naturally sullen features—large pouting lips and heavy-lidded eyes—created an air of unpredictability about his countenance that reminded Valentine of being in his father’s presence.

  “What a shame your friend could not stay.” Mr Cassiel turned his eerie stare towards Valentine, his gaze dropping to the scratch on his cheek. “When a man wanders in the dark, he is but a few steps from tragedy.”

  Valentine’s blood turned cold. The comment related to Dariell’s disbelief but his mind jumped to the obvious conclusion. Was Cassiel referring to the night his father tumbled—or threw himself—from the cliff edge?

  With a mental shake of the head, he dismissed the mystic’s attempt to intimidate.

  “Some people prefer to live peacefully in ignorance,” Valentine countered.

  “And some men never know inner peace, though their confident countenance says otherwise.”

  Bloody hell!

  Could this man read his mind?

  “Peace comes from acceptance,” Drake said, “not from a word of encouragement from a relative long since deceased.”

  Cassiel arched a thick brow. “Even when the nature of a loved one’s death is uncertain?”

  The comment wiped the grin from Drake’s face. While he had come to terms with his brother’s death, there was uncertainty about the way Ambrose Drake had died.

  “And what of me, Mr Cassiel?” Ava looked the man keenly in the eye. “If my parents wanted to bring me peace why frighten me by revealing that they were … were murdered?”

  Cassiel opened his arms wide and shrugged. “I have no control over the messages, my dear. But tonight, with your permission, I shall ask poignant questions in the hope of bringing answers to light.”

  Ava’s face grew pallid.

  Valentine wished he could take her in his arms and offer the comfort she desperately needed—take the comfort he needed, too.

  “Well,” Juliet began, being the only one not unnerved by the mystic’s odd revelations. “When shall we begin? I have to admit to being rather keen to hear if you have a message for me.”

  Cassiel pulled his watch from his waistcoat pocket and examined the time.

  Valentine was the only one who appeared to hear Ava’s gasp.

  She stared at the watch with a look of shock and confusion. “That is a rather unusual watch, sir.” The slight tremor in her voice was unmistakable. “Made in Switzerland I believe.”

  Cassiel thrust the watch back into his pocket, but not before Valentine noted the design on the lid of the gold hunter case. The circle in the centre resembled an image of the sun, each triangular marking around the circumference like the points on a compass. In contrast, the enamel decorating the outer bezel was a vibrant blue.

  “Yes,” Cassiel replied. “I believe so. It keeps excellent time.”

  “I knew a man who had one similar,” she persisted.

  “I gather it was a popular design.” The mystic stood. “Now, the hour is approaching midnight. Before I begin, I would like a tour of the house.”

  Damnation. What if he stumbled upon Dariell?

  “Is that necessary?” Drake did not sound pleased.

  “You may accompany me. The energy does not flow freely in some places, and so I must assess where to position you to best achieve success.”

  Was this what happened at his mother’s house?

  Was this how Mr Cassiel discovered what was worth stealing?

  “Then let us get on with it,” Drake said, most irritated.

  “As you wish.”

  As soon as Drake and Cassiel left the room, Valentine turned to Ava. “What was it that unnerved you? The fact you recognised the watch? Or had it more to do with the man you knew who owned one?”

  Ava’s meditative gaze remained fixed on the fire. She shook her head as if trying to drag her mind from a cloud of confusion. “I have seen that watch before.” She peeked back over her shoulder at the door before whispering, “Mr Fairfax owned one similar if not identical.”

  “Your father’s man of business?”

  She nodded.

  Valentine contemplated the information. Perhaps it was a popular design, owned by many men. But Mr Cassiel had revealed private information about her parents, and Mr Fairfax had been in Hamilton Kendall’s employ. Had the two men corresponded? Had Mr Fairfax divulged family secrets before meeting his demise?

  “Another man might tell you it is a coincidence, that there are many watches of a similar design,” Valentine began. “But I am inclined to believe there is a connection. I am inclined to think that Mr Cassiel does not need to contact the dead for he is already party to the information.”

  “You mean from an informant?”

  “I mean from a friend or relative who worked with your parents.”

  Juliet turned to Ava and patted her hand. “Devlin told me what happened to your parents. This must be very distressing for you.”

  Valentine watched as Ava fought back the tears.

  Hell, he would make Cassiel pay if his suspicions proved accurate.

  Ava’s shoulders sagged. “Part of me wants to run away, to find a distraction. Part of me wants to fight for those who can no longer do so for themselves.”

  The pain in her voice tore at Valentine’s heart. He stood, was about to cross the room and offer comfort when Cassiel and Drake returned.

  Valentine’s fingers throbbed. Punching Cassiel would bring temporary relief from the anger simmering beneath the surface. But he kept his temper at bay.

  “We have found suitable places for you all,” the mystic said, moving farther into the room.

  From the look of Drake’s clenched jaw, he was unhappy with the arrangements.

  “Mrs Drake will sit in the study.” Cassiel pressed his hands together in prayer and closed his eyes as if receiving divine enlightenment. “Mr Drake is to occupy the master bedchamber.”

  “And where sh
all I sit?” If Cassiel could hear voices they would tell him to put Valentine in the coal shed.

  “You’re to take a guest room. I shall show you which one.”

  Valentine stepped closer to the fraud. It was whilst staring down his nose at Cassiel that recognition dawned. This was not the man who followed Miss Kendall to the pawnbroker. Cassiel was not the man who attempted to steal the lady’s reticule. He was a few inches too tall. Even in this dim light, it was clear to see that his black hair was a few shades too dark. Yet he matched the description of the intruder who stole into Miss Kendall’s house.

  “I would prefer to remain here, in this room,” Ava said, the evidence of her distress still apparent in her voice.

  Juliet draped an arm around Ava’s shoulders. “Just thinking of her parents has brought on a bout of melancholy.”

  Cassiel’s eyes flashed with a brief look of satisfaction, but then he bowed his head and said, “If that is your wish, my dear.”

  “It is.”

  “Then while we are all together, let us recite the prayer now. It will give your loved ones time to gather the strength needed to cross over to the physical plane. It will protect us from those malevolent spirits who may wish to cause harm.”

  Drake met Valentine’s gaze and shook his head.

  “Please stand and form a circle.” Cassiel ushered them into the centre of the room. He stood behind them, moving to touch each one on the shoulder in turn. “Heavenly Father. Protect us this night from evil forces intent on mischief and mayhem. Protect all those in this house, now and when they depart. Let the power of light surround us to bring forward those who wish to commune with honest intentions. In the name of goodness, we thank you. Amen.”

  Valentine glanced at Ava and forced a smile. She looked gaunt, a little terrified of what the night might bring. It crossed his mind to put an end to this debacle, but then Cassiel spoke.

  “Let us move to our respective rooms. Let us hear the messages from the dead.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The room was dark. Blackness invaded every space. The incandescent glow of the snuffed candlewicks had long since faded. Having doused the fire’s flames with water—for the spirits moved best when the room was ice cold—Ava saw nothing before her eyes but indiscernible shadows.

  The tick of the mantel clock mirrored the thump of her heartbeat.

  Every hair on her nape stood to attention.

  Mr Cassiel had brought a chair from the dining room and placed it in the middle of the plush Persian rug. He had stood behind her and put his hand on her shoulder, rubbed back and forth in what was supposed to be a gesture of reassurance. Yet something about his manner stirred painful memories of the past. Something about his manner caused nausea to roil in her stomach.

  “I sense your mother” was all he said before leaving her alone in the darkness.

  Time ticked.

  The faint click of the door opening sent a shiver from her neck to her navel.

  A grey silhouette moved towards her.

  Ava’s breath caught in her throat as her heart raced.

  “It is I, madame, do not be alarmed,” Mr Dariell whispered as he moved to the window seat. He raised the lid and slipped inside.

  Knowing the Frenchman was hiding there brought mild relief. The charged energy in the room felt very much like it did on her previous meeting with the mystic. Shadows swayed. One might think that the spirits of the dead filled the gloomy space. But fear played havoc with one’s mind.

  A host of thoughts filled her head. Would she hear from her parents? Was this all a wicked trick to prey on the weak and helpless?

  The tread of footsteps on the stairs drew her attention. A board creaked.

  Her ragged breathing grew too loud for her to concentrate on the sounds.

  The door opened. She knew the approaching figure was that of Mr Cassiel.

  Fear might have choked her again had she not smelt the fragrant tones of her mother’s favourite perfume. Hints of frankincense filled the air. An exotic scent bought by her father on a trip to the Arabian Peninsula.

  Ava closed her eyes.

  Her mother felt close, so close Ava envisioned reaching out to touch her.

  Tears splashed on her cheeks as she fought the urge to whisper her mother’s name, knowing this was all a cruel figment of her imagination.

  Mr Cassiel did not attempt to settle her nerves. He began his strange mantra, the stream of words he repeated over and over and over until she felt herself sinking deeper into the depths of her body. Down. Down. Down, her mind spiralled. As she slipped farther into the distance, her anxiety melted away. A hazy mist appeared, swirling to hinder her vision, surrounding her, carrying her forward now.

  “Let me take you back to the night before that fateful day. Back. Back. Back to your last conversation. Do you remember, my dear?”

  The cloud dissipated as she stepped through into another dimension. She was no longer in the drawing room on Wimpole Street but walking from the house overlooking the Aegean Sea. She felt hot under the rays of the midday sun, so hot beads of perspiration formed on her brow.

  “Something is wrong.” Ava spoke with a genuine concern for a moment in time that had long since passed. “I am heading towards the tent near the mine.”

  “Your mother is worried.” Mr Cassiel’s words drifted over her. “Her spirit cannot rest.”

  Somewhere in a distant corner of her mind, Ava heard her mother crying. “My mother is upset because she does not want to return to England. My father insists it is necessary.”

  “Yes, your father is frightened.”

  Ava struggled to accept the comment. Nothing fazed Hamilton Kendall. “No. Not for himself, but for his family.”

  Mr Cassiel fell silent.

  “Yes, yes, I will convey the message,” he eventually muttered. “Your mother passed suddenly. She cannot rest until she knows you have retrieved their belongings.”

  The mist returned, a fog of confusion acting as a barrier to this otherworldly place. “I am walking but not moving.”

  Mr Cassiel continued his mantra in low, hushed tones. “Even if you cannot look with your eyes, you can see with your mind. Ask a question, and the answer will appear to you.”

  As if commanded by Mr Cassiel’s will, Ava silently asked to see her parents. The image became clearer though she had moved forward in time. “Yes, I see them now. I peek into the tent, and my father is kissing her, telling her it is his responsibility to protect his family. Feeling their love, I move away.”

  “Do not go yet, look around the tent. What can you see? Precious stones? Papers?”

  “Nothing. I move away and … wait. I see Mr Fairfax hiding behind the tent. He approaches me and asks if everything is all right.” Ava experienced a sudden rush of anxiety. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst from her chest. “I am scared and so answer quickly before running into my parents’ tent.”

  The images faded.

  Everything went black.

  “Your mother cannot rest,” Mr Cassiel repeated in whispered tones. “She wants to leave you her legacy, wants you to continue her work, but she has lost the one thing you need.”

  The words meant nothing to Ava as she hovered in the darkness.

  “You must find this thing that is lost,” Mr Cassiel persisted. “You must find it if you want to bring her peace.”

  “I see nothing,” she said, peering into the blackness.

  Mr Cassiel continued speaking in a calm voice, offering reassurance and counting in the methodical tone that seemed to wrap around her waist like a rope and pull her up from the dark depths. Upon the count of one she resurfaced, found herself back in the gloomy drawing room far away from the idyllic life she once knew.

  The pain of grief filled her chest.

  She wanted to go back to the scene with her parents, to keep the memory alive.

  “Your mother seeks reassurance.” Mr Cassiel moved to stand before her. “She cannot rest until she k
nows you have taken possession of her personal effects.”

  “I have,” Ava blurted before her rational mind protested. However, she could not speak with the same confidence about her father’s precious items.

  Mr Cassiel crouched and placed his hands on her knees.

  Panic surfaced.

  “I will leave you for a short time,” the mystic said. His long fingers moved in massaging strokes. “While I am gone, think about what she needs to bring her peace. What is it you would need to continue her work in the Mines of Lavrion?”

  Ava stared at the hands gripping her knees. Thoughts of Mr Fairfax filled her mind, ugly thoughts, terrifying thoughts.

  A sudden coughing fit came upon her. Despite numerous attempts, she could not clear the irritation from her throat. Mr Cassiel moved to the side table. She heard the clink of crystal, the slosh of liquid.

  He returned to her side and offered the tumbler. “Drink this. It will calm your nerves, soothe your throat so we may continue.”

  A sudden bang from the room upstairs made her jump.

  Mr Cassiel stared up at the ceiling. “Rest for a moment. I shall return shortly.”

  Valentine thought he might go out of his mind if he sat in the dark a moment longer. The silence proved deafening. Every passing second felt like an hour. With this form of torture, a man might lose control of his mental faculties.

  Ava was in the room beneath him.

  Lord knows what mischief was afoot.

  Valentine wasn’t sure if Dariell had returned to hide in the window seat, and so all he could do was sit in the darkness and imagine the sheer terror coursing through her veins.

  It was a mistake.

  He should never have insisted she partake in this charade.

  Valentine smacked the floor with the heel of his boot again out of frustration. The crafty sneak might be tormenting Drake or Juliet though he could not imagine Cassiel staying with them for long. Most men struggled to breathe beneath Drake’s penetrating stare.