“She has,” Valentine agreed, despite wishing to tell him to mind his own damn business.
“She has hidden the secret for so long.”
Valentine shuffled uncomfortably in the chair. He did not like where this conversation was heading. Were these the random guesses of a clever man using specific words to incite a reaction? Were these the words of a mystic receiving information from a higher plane?
“We are not here to discuss my mother.”
“No, we are here because you fear that your father still lives inside you.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Valentine replied, quick to dismiss the notion that he was tainted, too.
A smirk touched the mystic’s thick lips. “Have you not behaved irrationally? Has the madness not extended its claws and dug its nails into your skin?”
The mere hint that Valentine had somehow inherited his father’s bad blood caused red-hot fury to rage within. Was that not proof the devil spoke the truth? Was anger not the way evil controlled the mind?
Valentine wasn’t sure how Cassiel knew the things he did, but this man was a criminal who thrived on treachery and deceit. Honora must have given away her secrets. She must have given the man the parts of the puzzle for him to piece together.
“There is only one madman in this room.” Valentine firmed his jaw. “There is only one man with a propensity for evil, and it is not me.”
Cassiel grinned. “The guilty always use threats as a means of defence. Give the matter some thought for I shall leave you alone for a time while I present messages to the other guests.”
Valentine’s temper had reached the point of no return.
“Messages? You deliver distress. You rouse the devil and allow him to do his devious work.”
“What? You are a man of piety now?”
“I am a man of logic.” Valentine leant forward. “You told Miss Kendall someone murdered her parents. Why?”
A brief look of shock marred his dark features. He swallowed audibly. “That is what I saw in my vision. That is what the voice of—”
“You’re lying.” If Cassiel could hear voices from beyond the grave why did he not know of their deceitful intentions? “What purpose might you have for causing her pain? What purpose might you have for breaking into her house and ransacking her room?”
Cassiel shot to his feet. He raised his chin, offered a perfect place for Valentine to land a punch. But he would not hit a man without provocation.
“You have inherited your father’s lunacy.”
That was the only provocation needed.
The punch came hard and swift. The jab connected with Cassiel’s jaw to send the man flying back onto the bed. Valentine grabbed Cassiel by the waistcoat and dragged him to his feet.
“Tell me the damn truth.” A strange smell clung to the man’s clothes and skin and Valentine resisted the urge to inhale. “Did you enter Miss Kendall’s home uninvited? Did you lie to her about her parents?”
Cassiel fought and wrestled to free himself from Valentine’s grip. “You have lost your mind.”
The mystic could not have said anything more damning.
Valentine dragged him from the room by his blood-red cravat to the staircase. “If I have lost my mind, then I may as well throw you down the stairs. Did you enter Miss Kendall’s house?”
Panic distorted Cassiel’s dark features. “I have not seen Miss Kendall since … since the night at your mother’s house.”
“You’re lying, damn you.” Valentine shook him. “Who told you about my father’s illness?”
The door to the master bedchamber burst open, and Drake came charging out. “What the hell is going on here?”
Drake’s arrival distracted Valentine momentarily. He loosened his grip on Cassiel’s cravat, and the mystic took the opportunity to yank himself free. With no time to lose, he raced down the stairs, slipped down the last few.
“That devil is a damn fraud.” Valentine hurried after Cassiel.