“You did what?” Valentine almost shot out of the chair. “It is dangerous to dabble in the unknown.” Though some held a keen interest in the macabre, he’d heard enough eerie stories of malevolent spirits to put him off the practice for life.
“We were not dabbling, Lucius. We hired a professional. Mr Cassiel.”
“Cassiel?” After the archangel? Valentine had seen an illustration of the figure in The Magus, sitting astride a dragon. While the name proved appropriate for a man claiming to possess a godlike ability, no doubt it was as fake as the paste ruby. “And his first name?”
He would make a few enquiries regarding the legitimacy of the man’s otherworldly powers.
Honora pursed her lips. “Angelo.”
“Angelo Cassiel? Of course.”
“I know that tone, Lucius. You think it foolish. But one must keep an open mind to such possibilities.”
When the mind was open to possibilities, it was open to manipulation. Some people knew how to pray on those looking for an answer to the question that had plagued humanity for centuries.
“Personally, I need to see something to believe it. The philosophy has served me well.”
The corners of Honora’s mouth curled into a smirk. “Has it? I beg to differ. Faith and love are two of the strongest emotions known to man—besides hatred. You cannot see them, but that does not mean they don’t exist.”
Dear God. The last thing he needed was a lecture on love, marriage and responsibility.
“Have you proposed to Lady Durrant?” his mother said bluntly. “No, of course you haven’t as that would mean believing in something you cannot see or touch. It would involve things like trust and hope.”
Valentine shrugged. He refused to be drawn into a discussion about his failings. Something prevented him from making the final leap into matrimony, though he knew not what. Perhaps Miss Kendall had the right of it. Perhaps some people needed more than a life partner. Some people needed a friend, a lover, a trustworthy confidant. Perhaps his list of criteria would prove longest of all.
“Forgive me, Lucius. I did not invite you here to argue.” Honora came to her feet. She closed the gap between them and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s just that you have so much to give and it breaks my heart to see you alone. After what happened with your father … well, I fear it has affected you more deeply than you think.”
Valentine placed his hand on hers and rubbed gently. It was a gesture of solidarity shared many times over the years, when his father’s delusional mind had resulted in another irrational episode.
“What happened affected us both,” he said. After a lifetime of trauma, he wished to ease his mother’s burden not add to it. “I understand your concerns and will do what Society demands of a man in my privileged position.”
She pushed a lock of hair from his brow and cupped his cheek. “I want you to be happy. Is that so wrong?”
Valentine sighed inwardly. What was happiness? It was winning at cards, the purchase of a new curricle, a passionate moment of ecstasy. The task was to make it last longer than an hour, to make it last a lifetime.
“Let us get back to the matter of treachery,” he said in a light-hearted tone to banish the air of melancholy. “What do you want me to do with this list?”
His mother leant down, kissed his forehead as if he were a boy of five and then returned to her seat. “I want you to investigate all four ladies. Miss Kendall lives across the street, though I doubt she would disgrace her father’s name by doing the unthinkable.”
Deep in his gut, Valentine knew Miss Kendall was as honourable as she was courageous. Theft was beneath a woman willing to fight a duel out of principle. “What about Miss Faversham?”
“Major Faversham’s daughter lives with her family on Mount Street. A nervous girl terrified of her own shadow. We are encouraging her to find her voice.”
Valentine knew the short-tempered major but not his daughter. “As to the other ladies listed, I am acquainted with Mrs Madeley and Lady Cartwright.” Valentine glanced at the ornate goblet in the display case. “And you think one of these ladies stole into the cabinet?”
Honora pursed her lips and nodded. “I believe someone was brazen enough to steal the ruby while attending our weekly meeting. We always sit in the day room. One of them could have snuck in here under the guise of using the pot.”
Valentine refused to form a mental image of the ladies going about their ministrations, and yet in his mind’s eye, he saw Miss Kendall hike up her skirts to reveal soft, milky-white thighs.
Damnation.
“And what of Mr Cassiel’s visit? When did you attempt to correspond with the dead?” Valentine wondered what Miss Kendall thought of the mystic. Would a woman with her logical mind possess the ability to recognise a fraud?
“Mr Cassiel came two weeks ago. He arrived at midnight and left before dawn. Apparitional experiences are more common during the witching hour.”
Most probably because tired minds were weak minds.
“And did you make contact with a so-called spirit?” Scepticism dripped from every word.