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Miranda softened. “As you said, it was no more than the cad deserved and I must confess, in my accounts the spectacle was well worth what it may cost me during this short stay in Town.

‘Tis time beyond memory since I have enjoyed so hearty a laugh. Still, there will be more than enough on my plate tonight without the question of virtue being added to my portion.”

“‘Short stay?’ You and your mother are expecting to leave London?” he asked.

“We were only planning a brief visit, until Mother made the promise of Wodesby protection,” Miranda told him. “However, once Damien returns and we can leave your safety in his hands, I see no reason to remain.”

“And you can return to the man of your dreams? A fellow who might view you with affection?” Adam asked, wondering at the angry edge to his voice.

“I fail to see what affair it is of yours,” she snapped. “It is fortunate indeed that Thorpe stopped us before matters progressed from shame to blame.”

“You wish to claim that the cat that we heard was Thorpe?” Adam asked.

“He is mostly here for your sake, to be where I cannot,” Miranda said with a shrug. “However, it would not be the first time that he has kept me from making a fool of myself.”

“I do not need your protection, Miranda, nor that of your mother, your brother or any of your daft kinsmen,” Adam said, his lips tightening to an angry line. “And you can call off the damned cat too!”

“You do not mean to tell me that you actually credit that you are being followed by a feline,” Miranda shot back, a sparkle of challenge in her eye. “To acknowledge such unusual abilities in a cat would almost require that you believe in the supernatural.”

“I believe in nothing!” Adam protested.

“Ah, yes, a pity that. But you go well beyond lack of faith,” Miranda accused. “You go about like a Grand Inquisitor, seeking out the heretics who deny your anti-metaphysical creed. Is that your aim tonight? Is Barone the victim chosen to be burned on your stake of Reason?”

“You confuse the matter. Lady Pelton is the victim in this case,” Adam said. “Having seen Barone, would you dare deny that the man is a fraud? Or would you claim that he has this nebulous talent that you define as ‘magic?’”

Miranda shifted uncomfortably. “No, there is no reason to believe that he is a mage. But what harm does he do? I have met Lady Pelton and she strikes me as a woman to be pitied. Why should she be denied comfort? She loved her husband dearly.”

“Then let him lay buried!” Adam said vehemently.

“Let her cry and mourn so that she may go on living.

But as long as men like Barone feed upon the corpse of her love, she will be forever half in the grave with Pelton.

Just as my—" He stopped himself. “You go in first and I will follow later,” Adam suggested smoothly.

“We had best not be seen returning together.”

Never before had Miranda witnessed such remarkable control.

It was as if he had suddenly donned a mask of ceremony.

Raw emotion was buried beneath a civilized veneer in a cat’s wink.

Whatever lay hidden beyond the verge of revelation must have been painful indeed.

She wished that there was some comfort that she could offer him, something that she could say to mend fences between them, but his stony expression precluded any further conversation.

There was nothing she could do but leave him staring out into the shadowed garden.

No more than the length of a quadrille and a country set were required for Miranda’s prediction to come to pass.

Rumor did a rapid dance round the room. Lady Jersey swore that she had seen a cat run under the refreshment table just prior to Hatfill’s escapade.

Reports were rife that Hatfill had been seeking revenge on his old feline nemesis.

No matter that Adam told them that Hatfill had merely been chasing after a lost coin.

Stories of sorcery were far more to the taste of the ton than arid actuality.

Even Hatfill himself began to subscribe to the fabrication.

Better to be thought a stalwart champion, confronting an uncanny foe, than a blundering clumsy fool, seeking a lost sovereign.

With every whisper and stare, Miranda’s chin rose marginally.

Each speculative glance was squarely met and it was usually the furtively seeking eyes that fell first. She had a backbone of steel, Adam thought in admiration.

But by the time he claimed his second dance, it was obvious to him that the talk was taking its toll upon her.

“I fear that I have done you a terrible wrong, Miranda,” he said as they came together in the pattern.

“I fully intend to make a complete public admission.”

Miranda smiled wearily as they clasped hands and paced the floor in stately measures.

“They will not believe you or will claim that I have put some spell on you to cause you to take the blame. And even if they did place credence in your confession, it would be no less of a scandal for you to have contrived to humiliate Hatfill for my sake. I want no duels conducted in my name. Besides, it is just as well if people believe that I have magical powers at present. With Mama incapacitated and Damien in transit, it may be only the Wodesby mystique that stands between you and disaster.”

“Miranda . . .”

She sighed, turning to face him as he bowed.

“Yes, yes, I am well aware; you place no faith in witchery. Nonetheless, there is naught that you can do to untwine this tangle, Adam. So leave it be.” She curtsied, rubbing the side of her neck unconsciously as they parted in the figure, changing partners momentarily.

Adam paid only cursory attention to the new lady at his side. His eyes were fixed upon Miranda as she went through the motions of the dance. Clearly, her partner had said something, for her eyes flashed anger and flags of color flushed her cheeks.

“What did he say?” Adam asked when she returned to his side at the end of the set, “If he dared to give you insult. . .” To his surprise, her lower lip began to tremble.

“You are a kind man, Adam Chapbrook,” she said, trying to blink back an incipient tear. “And I thank you for the gift of your indignation, but my battles must be my own.”

“Kindness has naught to do with it,” Adam said, touched by her gallant effort, but even the armor of her pride appeared to have its chinks. “Who will protect my protector but me? Why not excuse yourself from Lady Pelton’s spirit soiree and go home?”

Miranda looked at him in surprise. “Do you forget that it is only my nodding acquaintance with demonic company that gains you entry? If I do not accompany you, I sincerely doubt that Lady Enderby will consent to have you along.”

“Beelzebub and I will contrive, somehow,” Adam said with an impish look that quickly faded. “However, I am more concerned about you. Participating in this nonsense will only add fuel to the blaze of hellfire about you.”

He was willing to give up access to Lady Pelton’s séance for her sake.

The notion left her feeling oddly buoyant and suddenly, the murmurs and the mockery did not seem to matter nearly as much.

“There is scarcely anything left to be said.

I am neither ashamed of my family, Adam, nor do I deny what they are.

My only regret is that I lack their gifts.

Besides, I really must go with you and Lady Enderby if only to make sure that you are well?—"

“Do not dare say ‘protected,’ Miranda,” Adam warned with half a grin. “I do not wish to hear any more of that foolishness. The time is already late and by the time we arrive at Lady Pelton’s it will be bare hours before the cock crows.”

“I have long left the nursery set,” Miranda said with a laugh, “so you need not fear that I will nod off before the spirits come calling. The darkness before dawn is the best part of the night, and actually the most propitious time for delving beyond the Veil.”

“Barone wants the participants to be weary is what applies in this instance, I suspect,” Adam said, as he took her arm and led her toward the newly laid refreshment table.

“The better to perpetrate his frauds. That is the usual way of it. Anything that will make the victim more readily gullible is a tool of the trade.”

“I take it then, that you have been to a number of these?” Miranda asked.

“Dozens,” Adam replied bitterly. “My first meeting with the mystics occurred at the age of eight, directly after my mother’s death.

That was the beginning of what was to become a regular parade of charlatans.

My mother, you see, had made a pact with my father.

If either one of them were to pass on first, the other would attempt to contact the soul of the living survivor.

Between them, they chose a phrase and if either received those words from beyond the grave, it would provide absolute proof that the afterlife existed; but the pretenders never guessed the message.

That did not stop Papa though, it was always going to be the next oracle of the netherworld, or when he or she failed, the one after that. ”

As they made their way through the throng, Miranda mulled over what she had heard.

Now she began to understand his antagonism to things magical.

In Adam’s wistful voice she had caught a glimpse of a disillusioned little boy, missing his mother, longing for that gentle touch from the beyond.

She imagined what her life would have been if her mother had become so dangerously obsessed with the Light beyond the Veil when her father had died so tragically.

It was clear that the late Lord Brand had ignored the here and now when his young son had needed him desperately.