Of course the thing had spelled out
Violette asked the air in her smooth voice, “Do you have a message for Mr. Mackenzie?”
The planchette said
Mademoiselle Violette was very good, but Daniel was good too. “What message?” he asked.
Ellingham joined them on the planchette again, and it started to move. Around and around it went on the board, back and forth, sliding toward a letter only to slide away before it could stop. Daniel felt Violette’s subtle but steady pull, and he subtly but steadily pulled back.
Mademoiselle kept her countenance absolutely still. If the spirit’s indecision vexed her, she made no sign.
The planchette at last halted at the letter
A gentleman obligingly drew a small notebook and pencil from his coat pocket and wrote,
The planchette moved again. It stopped at
Mademoiselle jerked her hand back, and the planchette stopped dead. The room filled with snickers and chortles.
“Well,” Violette said, turning to fully face Daniel. “The spirit seems in a mischievous mood tonight.”
Her eyes sparkled like candle flames on a frosty night. They looked at each other, neither offering to glance away first. Mademoiselle’s cheeks took on a faint flush, but other than that she sat as still as marble.
Damn, but she was beautiful, and defiant too. No simpering miss in her first Season, hoping to snare the wealthy Mr. Mackenzie, one of the most eligible bachelors in Britain. Why the hell young women were taught that pretending to be frail should make men fall madly in love with them, Daniel didn’t understand. The frail act made Daniel want to suggest the lady eat robust food and take plenty of exercise until she felt better.
This young woman could walk five miles in a storm, brush off her skirts, and comment offhand that the wind was a bit brisk today. Then in the next breath she’d tell someone like Daniel and all his money to go to the devil.
Mademoiselle Violette’s lips parted. The moisture between them beckoned. Daniel wanted to send Mortimer and his irritating cronies out into the cold and have Mademoiselle to himself, to ask her to perform for him alone. No layabouts of the English ton watching, no Mortimer. Just Daniel and this lovely lady, a candlelit room, and time.
“Enough of these parlor games,” Mortimer broke in angrily. “I told you, Mademoiselle, Mackenzie came here to see the whole show. So give it to him.”
Daniel had to turn away from Violette’s beautiful eyes, and for that, Mortimer would pay. “Shut your gob,” Daniel said. “She’s done enough for tonight, and you still owe me two thousand quid.”
Mortimer was halfway out of his chair. “I’m paying for a show, and by God, I want one.”
Daniel started up himself, ready to go over the table to him, but Mademoiselle raised her hands, her voice cutting through the impending tempest.
“The spirits are here!
A freezing wind swept through the dining room, extinguishing the candles in one go. The room plunged into darkness. In the middle of the table, where the candles had burned, a pale, luminescent blob began to form and spread.
Before Daniel could sit down, a heavy grip seized him by the arms, and someone very strong dragged him up and out through a door and into a pitch-dark room. The door shut, cutting him off from the wind, Mortimer, and the enchanting Mademoiselle Violette.
Jennifer Ashley,
