Page 8 of A Whisper and a Curse (Raven & Wren #3)

H adrian wasn’t happy that his mother was disappointed—he’d seen her downcast expression as the medium had ended the séance. But he’d expected nothing different. Apparently, they’d have to go through this again in a week. Unless he could talk his mother out of it. Or prove that this was a fraud.

“I saw the man speaking to Mrs. Frost tonight too,” Tilda said. “Perhaps he has a particular energy that supports Mrs. Frost’s connection to the spirit realm,” Tilda suggested.

Hadrian gave her a look of exasperation. “Don’t tell me you’ve bought into this nonsense.”

She pursed her lips. “I am keeping an open mind because I am conducting an investigation.”

The man who’d been seated next to Mrs. Frost was at least five years older than Hadrian, with gold-rimmed spectacles and a thick, dark beard and mustache. “Pardon me for a moment,” he murmured to Tilda before walking to the windows where the man had moved following the séance.

“Good evening,” Hadrian said. “I’m Ravenhurst.” Before he could extend his hand to the man, the butler arrived with a tray of wine.

“Balthasar Montrose,” the spectacled man replied. “Wine?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Montrose picked up a glass and handed it to Hadrian, as if Hadrian couldn’t have helped himself. But he was immensely glad he hadn’t had the chance.

The moment Hadrian took the glass, he saw a vision.

He immediately recognized the parlor at the London Spiritualism Society.

There were several people present, all seated.

Mrs. Frost was there, perched on a chair.

A gentleman stood near the hearth, his body angled away from them.

He rose from the floor, appearing to levitate.

Everyone applauded. Then he turned toward them and did it again, this time showing them how he’d achieved the illusion.

The medium angled one foot forward with the other slightly behind.

He rose on the front of his foot, elevating himself whilst lifting his back foot from the floor.

The trick was achieved by the medium’s stance, which gave the audience a perspective that made it look as though the man was levitating.

The vision faded, and a sharp pain stabbed through Hadrian’s temple. He’d known they were frauds. However, he couldn’t prove it using his godforsaken gift. He needed to find a way to expose them. Perhaps he could do that at next week’s séance.

“You broke the circle of magnetism when you stopped holding hands with those next to you.” Montrose spoke with a Welsh accent. He eyed Hadrian with curiosity. “Why did you do that?”

“I found the table movement distracting. It … surprised me.” He returned the man’s intense perusal. “Did I ruin the séance?”

Montrose shrugged. “Impossible to say. But now you know what to expect, and you can retain your composure next time.” He offered Hadrian a bland smile.

The man’s superiority prompted Hadrian’s irritation, which only made his head throb more. He hadn’t lost his composure. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself they were investigating the medium. He sipped his wine. “How do you know Mrs. Frost?”

“I have long been a supporter,” Montrose replied. “She invites me to many of her séances due to my sensitive energy.”

“Your magnetism?” Hadrian asked, careful to keep his tone free of sarcasm. At Montrose’s nod, he continued, “Are you a member of the London Spiritualism Society?”

“Proudly. Are you considering joining?” Montrose asked. “I highly recommend the society for those interested in the spirit realm and in harnessing the natural energy around us.”

For what? Summoning the dead? “I have many questions about the society,” Hadrian said vaguely. “How did you come to support Mrs. Frost? Did you hear about her through the society?”

“Yes. I was looking for a medium so I could speak with my grandfather after he passed away. I found the society and attended a séance there. Mrs. Frost was the medium.”

“I confess I wasn’t even aware of the society until very recently. I am surprised I hadn’t heard of it.” He took another drink of wine as Montrose did the same.

“I suppose it would be easy to miss if you weren’t seeking a medium or don’t possess an interest in spiritualism,” Montrose remarked. “Furthermore, the society was only founded in January of last year.”

“Was Mrs. Frost able to communicate with your grandfather?”

“Indeed!” Montrose said excitedly. “John Tabor is my grandfather. He continues to help her from the spirit realm.” Chuckling, the man glanced toward Mrs. Frost. “I’m grateful to her for helping me to communicate with him. I know he’s thrilled to be of use.”

Hadrian stared at the man. Did he really think he was talking to his deceased grandfather? Hadrian couldn’t help feeling sorry for Montrose. He’d been utterly duped.

“I am curious. Do you pay a fee to attend?” Hadrian asked. “Since you are able to speak with your grandfather regularly.”

“I do not.” Montrose sniffed. “I am an invited guest.”

“Who is able to regularly speak with his grandfather,” Hadrian said with a smile. “How does that work? Are you only able to ask questions that have a yes or no answer?”

“Not at all. On occasion, my grandfather inhabits Mrs. Frost’s body.

That makes it quite easy to converse.” Montrose’s brown eyes glittered.

“I hope that your brother will find his way into Mrs. Frost next week. Then you will see.” He held Hadrian’s gaze for a moment longer than was necessary, or perhaps even polite.

It was unnerving. Something about Montrose bothered him, but Hadrian attributed it to the man’s absolute belief and faith in Mrs. Frost and spiritualism.

Hadrian couldn’t think of anything more horrid than imagining his brother invading the body of a living woman in order to speak to them. Gabriel wouldn’t do that even if he could.

Montrose’s gaze moved past Hadrian, prompting Hadrian to pivot.

His mother and Tilda were walking toward them.

Montrose smiled. “Lady Ravenhurst, I was just telling the earl that I hope next week’s séance will bring your son to you.

It’s possible Captain Becket may even decide to occupy Mrs. Frost’s body in order to communicate with you. ”

“I had heard that could happen,” Hadrian’s mother said, her eyes round. “I am not sure how I would feel about that.”

Hadrian looked at his mother and worked to keep his features smooth.

“Mr. Montrose says he’s seen Mrs. Frost do it.

Her spirit guide, John Tabor, is none other than Mr. Montrose’s grandfather.

Apparently, he has inhabited Mrs. Frost during some of his visits.

” Hadrian glanced at Tilda, who was watching him.

She pressed her lips together as if she were trying not to speak.

Turning her attention to Montrose, Hadrian’s mother asked, “And how did you find that?”

Montrose smiled. “It was wonderful to hear him, even if he didn’t look like himself. It’s a much easier—and faster—way to communicate. Far superior to the tapping. However, sometimes, it is not possible.”

The butler announced it was time to move downstairs to the dining room. Montrose offered his arm to Hadrian’s mother. “May I have the honor of escorting you, my lady?”

Hadrian’s mother smiled. “You may.” She took Montrose’s arm, and they made their way from the drawing room.

Hadrian turned to Tilda. “They are all frauds.” He kept his voice low, but the anger he’d hidden whilst talking with Montrose spiked his words.

“Did you see something?” Tilda asked, taking his arm. “I wondered if the table gave you a vision.”

“Oddly, the table didn’t present a vision at all.

I find that strange since so many people were touching it and have touched it in the past. But when I held Mrs. Frost’s hand, I saw another séance.

Or perhaps more than one.” Hadrian guided Tilda from the drawing room, depositing his wine glass, even though it wasn’t yet empty, on the table as they passed it.

“The visions flickered quickly through my mind. It was disconcerting.”

“How badly did that make your head hurt?” she asked as they walked toward the staircase.

“Not badly at all. The real ache came with a vision I received whilst touching the glass that Montrose handed me. He was at the London Spiritualism Society headquarters.” Hadrian went on to detail what he’d seen with the fake levitation.

Tilda’s eyes rounded. “That means the society is aware of the fraud.”

“I wager they originate it. They bloody well practice their deceptive tricks.” He glanced at Tilda as they started down the stairs. “We must find proof of their trickery. I don’t know how they tilted the table, but there must be a cheat involved, as with the fake levitation I saw in my vision.”

“I’m trying to envision what you described,” Tilda said. “I think we must try this later.”

“I shall be happy to demonstrate.” Hadrian’s mind worked. “Perhaps at next week’s séance, I can pretend a spirit has overtaken me and caused me to levitate. Then I can expose the trick to everyone.”

“I’m not sure that will prove that they are frauds,” Tilda said gently.

Hadrian paused at the bottom of the stairs and turned toward her. “You believe me, don’t you?”

“Of course. I have never doubted your visions.” Her eyes met his, and the trust within them settled him. “Are you sure your head is all right? You could plead a headache and we could depart—it wouldn’t be untrue.”

“My mother would be disappointed to leave.”

Tilda arched a brow at him. “Then you see that this pleases her, even if it is false? Would it harm her if she thought she was talking to Gabriel, even though she wasn’t?”

Hadrian scowled. “I hate the idea of someone pretending to be my brother. Especially for the purpose of fooling my mother.”

“Even if it makes her feel good?”