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“This will serve to prove that you are making the choices here, and not I,” Lady Wodesby informed him as she quickly made notations in four columns before turning the paper face down between them.

“The cards are arranged in four rows representing, past, present, near future and far future, for the sake of simplicity. Ten cards are in each column. Choose two to begin.”

“First row, second card,” Adam said.

“Knight of Wands. Knight of Swords,” she said without hesitation.

“You and your father. He is the source of your bitterness, milord. You have never forgiven him for dissipating the family fortune. In his desperation, he chose to seek the help of frauds in an attempt to pierce the veil of death. But his worst sin was to cut you off in his pain. How very sad.”

“Second row, fourth card,” Adam said quickly, before she could go on. Lady Wodesby’s regard was canny, as if she knew the reason for his haste. How the devil had she cut so close to the truth?

“King of Pentacles. Battle, milord; you have challenged a most dangerous man. I see a needle and thread. A tailor? I confess I do not understand the meaning here, but it is quite significant. The forces of lightning contained in a bottle. This tailor fears you, seeks to destroy you.”

“Perhaps Weston is after him for his bill?” Lord Ropwell quipped.

Adam scowled the man down and the titters diminished to silence. Lady Wodesby did not need any further excuses of interference from the audience should the performance be deemed a failure.

“Third row, fifth card.” Adam said, deciding that the near future was safer than the past or present.

As he waited for her response, he wondered how Lady Wodesby had come upon her information.

All of London was aware that Gutmacher was out for his blood, but Adam could swear that only himself and the Runners were aware of that charlatan’s origins and the fact that his name was Taylor.

No , Adam corrected, himself, the Runners and .

. . Uncle Lawrie? It was entirely unlike his uncle to be so indiscreet.

Yet there was no other possible explanation.

The woman had without doubt pumped Uncle Lawrie during dinner, with the object of making Adam appear a fool.

Bottled lightning indeed. Could that possibly refer to the electrical machine Taylor used?

“Lord Brand? If you are ready to continue?”

Adam roused himself from his reverie to find that Lady Wodesby was regarding him with the air of a tutor confronting an inattentive schoolboy.

Bad enough that she was attempting to make a fool of him, but worse still that he was abetting her in the task.

Even though he knew that his boorish behavior could lose the sympathy of the crowd, he could not quite keep the acid from his voice. “My apologies. The cards, Milady?”

“Ace of Swords. Conflict. I see a . . .” her voice dropped weakly, “a . . threat of death, milord, against you and someone else. Quickly, choose another card in the row.”

“High drama, indeed!” The sneered words mocked her outright. Somehow, he had allowed her to rankle him. He struggled to control the unwarranted sense of urgency that she somehow induced. “Seventh card”

“Page of Cups, the female aspect. A woman is also at risk. There is threat of magic here, strong magic. . . No. . . ” she whispered, her stricken eyes meeting his.

“I see the hand of death involved, but I cannot say who he will take. Spirits are at work, a ghost could kill . . . There is peril to all; Page, King and Knight . . . if only I had my own cards to hand! Perhaps the Major Arcana can help.”

As if compelled by her gaze, Adam found himself turning a card on the table.

“The Empress!” Lady Wodesby hissed, her aspect blanching.

“By Merlin, I had feared as much. Milord, henceforth you are under Wodesby protection. Whatever we may do to prevent this disaster, we shall. By the Blood, I swear it!” With a sigh, she closed her eyes and slumped back in the chair, drooping like a wilted orchid.

“Mama!” Miranda rushed forward in alarm to kneel beside the stricken woman.

“Does she carry a vinaigrette?” Adam asked. “Or shall we call a physician?”

“No!” she said. “You have done quite enough for this night, milord. Neither sal volatile, nor the attention of quacks will remedy exhaustion of this magnitude. Lady Enderby, if you would be so kind as to instruct your footmen to assist my mother and have our carriage brought round.”

“But of course, my dear,” Lady Enderby said. “But you cannot go alone with your Mama in this state.”

“Lord Brand and I shall escort her home, Hester,” Lawrence declared, ignoring Adam’s forbidding look. “It is the least we can do.”

“You are kind, sir,” Miranda said, favoring his uncle with a harried smile. “However, I assure you that Mama will do best without the presence of disagreeable influences.”

“I quite understand. My nephew is sometimes quite disturbing. Nonetheless, I would not feel comfortable without assuring Adrienne’s safe journey home.” Lawrence bent to take a limp hand and chafe it gently.

“Of course, Mr. Timmons, you will be most welcome,” Miranda said, touching her mother’s pale cheek. “However, I am sure that Lord Brand must have other plans. No doubt there are abundant magicians to malign, and fortune-tellers to ferret out here in London tonight.”

“Actually, the séance that I had planned to attend tonight has been abruptly canceled, Miss Wilton.” Adam said, even as he wondered why he had not seized the opportunity to distance himself from this disastrous association with a veritable flock of fraudsters.

“The swindler I was pursuing has abruptly decided that it was not worth his while to fleece an old friend of mine of her last pennies,”

“What in the world are you talking about, Milord?” Miss Wilton asked, but before he could answer, her mother moved slightly.

“My dear child . . .” Lady Wodesby called weakly, her eyelids fluttering.

“Mama, rest now. We shall have you home soon and I shall brew you a tisane,” she said trying to soothe her mother’s agitation.

“You must be . . . wary, my love. Vigilant . . . until we can fully. . . fathom the source . . . of danger . . .”

“We will, Mama, now let us take you to the carriage and we shall be home in a trice,” she said, brushing back her mother’s hair with a gentle hand.

Lady Wodesby grasped her daughter’s fingers with a weak squeeze. “The Empress, my dear . . . she has always represented you. That is why. . . the cards called me . . . tonight. You are at hazard . . . my love, . . . grave hazard and somehow . . . Lord Brand’s fate is entwined . . . with yours.”