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D uring the ride home, Lady Wodesby drifted in and out of consciousness.

Adam had seen self-induced trances before.

Fakirs that he had studied in India could slip between consciousness and a seemingly altered state as fast as a cutpurse in Coventry could lift a purse.

However, the woman’s condition was well beyond any act he could recall.

Even his friends in Drury Lane could not counterfeit her unhealthy pallor, the dimmed light in her eyes, like a spark on the verge of extinction.

Miss Wilton cradled her mother in her arms, whispering words of comfort during the moments that the woman came to herself.

Lady Wodesby seemed genuinely distraught, murmuring of the Empress, the Hermit, Cups, Wands and Swords.

Whatever dire portents she had imagined obviously seemed quite real to her.

Even the cat appeared to be distressed, twitching his tail as he stalked across the length of the carriage.

However, this time, when Adam attempted to pick the animal up, Thorpe hissed and bared his claws

“Thorpe!” Lady Wodesby reprimanded feebly. “You, of all . . . should know that it is wholly unfair . . . to fault Lord Brand.”

“I declare,” Lawrence murmured in amazement as the cat bowed its head submissively and crept to the corner of the carriage. “The creature seems almost ashamed.”

“T’was merely the tone of his mistress’s voice, nothing more,” Adam said.

“Have you ever known a feline to give the least attention to the feelings of humans?” Lawrence asked, shaking his head dubiously.

Adam’s reply was a disapproving frown, but before he could reply, the carriage slowed and turned onto Portman Square.

Thorpe leapt out through the open window, but the ladies did not seem the least bit perturbed.

When the carriage halted before an elegant townhouse, there was a small army of servants waiting, with the cat at the forefront.

“Next you will be telling me that Thorpe went on to warn them,” Adam commented, but to his irritation, his uncle merely regarded them thoughtfully.

Gypsies, Adam noted as they alighted. Every single member of the Wodesby staff, from the coachman to the footmen, had the look of the Rom.

Miss Wilton helped them bring Lady Wodesby upstairs while another footman ushered the two men into the mahogany-paneled library.

With silent grace, the butler brought a tray with biscuits, wine and three glasses.

“Thank you,” Adam said in perfect Rom.

The butler did not so much as bat an eyelash in surprise. “Do you wish me to pour?” he asked in the same language.

“No, we shall serve ourselves. Has there been any word of Lady Wodesby’s state?”

“My grandmother and Miranda attend to her now,” the butler informed him, shaking his head. “Never before have I seen it so, the Weakness. She took a great risk, the Lady.”

“Risk?” Adam asked, instantly regretting the question. The butler’s open expression rapidly shuttered, returning to its formerly rigid mien.

“Will that be all, sirs?” he asked in accented English. However, it was rather clear that it was they who were being dismissed.

Adam nodded and the man withdrew, not bothering to close the door behind him. With trembling hand, his uncle picked up the decanter, splashing the tray with Madeira. “Here Uncle Lawrie, let me fill your glass before you break it. I swear, you are as nervous as a lamplighter near a powder keg.”

As his uncle took a restorative swallow, Adam pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. He shook his head in disbelief. “Astonishing,” he said softly, scrutinizing the scrawled notations in the columns. Uncle Lawrie raised an eyebrow in silent query.

““Lady Wodesby’s listing of the Minor Arcana,” Brand explained. “I took it with me thinking to prove that she was humming me about the choices, but it would seem that the woman has an excellent memory.”

“She looked so frail, Adam.” The older man’s voice shook. “So vibrant one moment and the next, fragile as glass.”

“There is naught to worry about. She’s merely driven herself into a crise de nerf , no more. Like as not, she will be back to herself tomorrow,” Adam said, touching his uncle’s shoulder reassuringly.

“I would vow that this is no simple case of hysterics,” Lawrence maintained. “She was so young and lively at dinner. It was almost as if half my life had never been and I was a sprig of thirty again.”

“Ah, that explains it,” Adam said, taking the opportunity to turn the subject.

“You were telling Lady Wodesby of this evening’s adventures.

I suspected as much, you talkative sprig, you.

But why in the devil did you spill Gutmacher’s real name?

Part of our advantage lay in allowing Taylor to believe his past undiscovered.

However, it is no great matter, so long as you did not reveal our disguise. ”

“I did no such thing! Nor did I mention anything about Taylor or Gutmacher or whatever his name is!” Lawrence asserted vehemently.

“The subject of your bet to unmask him was mentioned, to be sure. How could it not be the talk of Town, with you bent on making a public spectacle of his humiliation? However, I did not even speak of the fact that they claimed he was too ill tonight to stage his healing tricks, for fear that it might upset your schemes.”

“Then how did she know all that she did about my affairs? No, no Uncle Lawrie, do not even say what seems to be on your tongue’s tip.

There are many ways that these mediums can discover information, as well you know.

Why, there is even a list of prime pigeons in London, which can be had for a price.

They call it ‘The Blue Book’ and it details seemingly everything about those who are ripe for plucking in their effort to communicate with the spirits.

Names of departed dear ones, old scandals, circumstances of death, even their deceased servants, for pity’s sake!

All is documented and constantly brought up to date, anything that will help their victims to believe that their guide beyond the veil speaks truly is contained there,” Adam said, his agitation growing as his uncle’s expression grew more doubtful.

“No doubt my life’s details are catalogued there as well. ”

“And how would Taylor’s identity come to be in such a book?” Lawrence questioned the ice of annoyance chilling his voice.

“I don’t know how Lady Wodesby came upon that name,” Adam admitted, forging ahead despite his uncle’s obvious distaste for the subject. “A lucky guess, perhaps. Or maybe she had me investigated. Everyone knew that I was to attend Lady Enderby’s affair.”

“You are implying then, that Adrienne staged all this?” Lawrence said, his words growing stilted with indignation.

“That is exactly what his implications are, sir,” Miss Wilton’s voice rang from the doorway.

“Even though our arrival in London was delayed by traffic and we had barely time to dress for Lady Enderby’s gathering, much less eat a bite after the journey.

Even though Mama has neither made your nephew’s acquaintance nor seen you for over a quarter of a century.

Even though, had she any inkling that Lady Enderby would impose upon her to read the Tarot, my mother would never have accepted the invitation.

Nonetheless, she had naught better to do but to research the almighty Lord Brand. ”

She entered the room, followed by the Gypsy butler.

“Your nephew seems thoroughly convinced of his own importance, Mr. Timmons, and like most self-centered men, he believes that the world is vying for his attention. Unfortunately, he will deny the evidence of his senses, even logic and seize upon any farfetched excuse to discount what his heart knows, rather than admit that he has encountered something that is beyond his simple understanding.”

“You must have spoken with Adam at length during dinner,” Lawrence said, ignoring his nephew’s annoyed expression, “for you have just described the boy to the very toes. Why, Adam, would you believe that Lady Wodesby would do such a thing?”

“I make no accusations,” Adam said carefully. “But to confound me in public would naturally establish her credibility as a sorceress.”

The Gypsy threw back his head and laughed, Miss Wilton’s peals of mirth combined in chorus with Lawrence Timmons’ chuckle.

“Oh dear, how very droll.” she clutched her side, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “You actually believe Mama requires your endorsement of her powers?”

“I do not see what you find so amusing, Miss Wilton,” Adam said glaring resentfully.

“Miss Wilton, I assure you, his pomposity of nature does not come from my side of the family,” Lawrence declared.

“He is very ignorant . . . this one,” the butler said in gasps, “and very . . . arrogant. Your mother has set you a difficult task, little one.”

“Ignorant and pugnacious,” Miranda agreed with a sigh. “An impossible task, I fear.”

Lord Brand’s stance was much like that of a boxer set for a fight.

She would much prefer to postpone the match for the morning, when her mind was clear.

However, there had been no arguing with her mother.

As Lady Wodesby had been urged to her bed, she had commanded that Miranda speak with him this very night.

“Enough of Adam’s foolishness,” Lawrence said, his smile fading into an expression of concern. “How does your Mama do?”

Miranda favored him with a weary smile. “Much more the thing sir, now that we have coddled her and dosed her. She would like to see you, but I must ask that you please be brief. Mama extended herself too close to her limits tonight. I fear that she would prefer to believe that the second George is still King and herself a green girl.”

“Ah, I know the feeling, young lady,” he said, his eyes misting. “A terrible thief, is time, but your Mama need not fear. She will always be to me as I first saw her.”