Page 8 of The Lady is Trouble
“Well,” he prompted with a sharp edge.
“When you first dumped me—”
“Settled you,” he cut in.
She gave a mock bow over the table. “When you first dumped me in Gloucestershire, I began to make notes about the auras I witnessed that had anyvalidityto them. Such as, I understood the person’s circumstances and was able to infer how this may be affecting their aura. For example, one man, a baron as I recall, lost his family home to creditors. It was the most appetizing morsel of gossip that week. I didn’t speak to him, but from across the village green, the air surrounding him smoldered, the same color as the earl’s old pistol.”
A hint of a smile touched his lips. “I remember that pistol well.”
She pointed to the ceiling. “In my valise, I have five journals detailing credible encounters matching mood, circumstance, or personality to color. Madame DuPre’s included. All listing variations affecting one’s aura. With validation, I could add this research to my grandfather’s chronology.” She rested her chin on her palm. “The missing link is how to recreate the various shades and hues. I’ve tried, but I’m not a skilled artist. One governess left over my lack of talent in that area if you recall.”
“You’ve been tracking patterns with colors,” Julian whispered, stark interest she couldn’t discern the meaning behind shaping his words. He slid high in his chair, his curiosity sparked. A flash of delight streaked through her, knowing she had finally,finallydone something to please him. “You have data.”
“Mounds from even my short time in London. You see, Madame DuPre can ask probing questions that Lady Elizabeth Scott cannot. And at some point, if you had not located me, I would have located you.” She forced her gaze from his because she wasn’t sure that wasentirelytrue. The absorbed young man, her friend from summers past, had proven quite hazardous to her heart.
“Piper, I can help.”
She looked up to find his wistful expression clearing. He slid his hand across the table, halting before he touched her. If illuminating sunlight had not bathed him, she would have said the tint sweeping his cheeks was a figment of her imagination.Julian, blushing?
Rolling his lips in, he reached for his tea and sat back. “Colors. Hues. I’m passably proficient. An interest.” A puzzling expression, almost what she would call bashful. “No.” A quick shake of his head. “It’s more of a diversion.”
The table bit into her ribs as she leaned closer. “I don’t understand.”
He placed his cup in the saucer, the look on his face similar to hers while she decided whether to be truthful or float a lie like a toy boat across a lake.
The serving girl interrupted the conversation with the arrival of their breakfast. Quite lovely, she appeared to have a rather healthy attraction to Julian. Her aura projected yearning in vibrant shades of deep plum. When he glanced her way with a smile, the edges flared crimson.
Piper accepted her plate as her stomach gave a hard twist, wondering how frequently Julian stayed at the Cock and Bull. And exactly how solicitous their service to a handsome viscount was. Oblivious to the scene playing out before him, he thanked the serving girl, his aura shifting not one wit.
Piper drew a relieved breath as the delectable aroma of eggs, beans, and black pudding dove deep, eliciting a stomach rumble she hoped he didn’t hear. She settled her napkin in her lap, watching Julian, plainly, struggle.
He glanced at her, shrugged a broad shoulder. “I left the townhouse too quickly to take my utensils. As you know, I try to limit confronting items that are not my own.” Releasing a resigned breath, he grasped the fork, fingers clenching, knuckles going white. “Delightful company, hosting everyone who has touched this recently.”
Startled and intrigued, she recorded his aura as it lit with not one color but a brilliant array. It would take weeks to decipher the explosion surrounding him.
“Quit reading me,” he said on a hard rasp, his dark lashes sweeping up to reveal a wondrous, leaden shimmer behind spectacle glass. His brow creased, and he inhaled on a rapid gust.
Going on instinct, Piper slid her hand across the table and gently covered his. Surprisingly, he didn’t push her away. Encouraged, she rubbed her thumb over his wrist in slow circles as his pulse raced. He exhaled, fingers flexing.
She stilled as a fragment of a scene, grainy and indistinct, intruded upon her mind. A barrel-chested man, rotten teeth, lips peeled back in a roar of laughter. The dank scent of ale and crisped meat. The glow of a gas lamp.
The hairs on her nape lifted as her heart lurched.
The image wrapped around her—smell, taste, touch—pressing as closely as her lace-edged chemise. The tenseness in Julian’s shoulders eased, and his breathing fell into a regular pattern as the vision flowed out of him and into her.
She resisted the urge to expel it as her skin tingled, and her vision blurred. Healing often felt like the sudden pinch of a needle sliding beneath skin before she wrapped her mind around what she was taking from another person. Twisting her hand in her skirt, she held her mind steady as the image dimmed to a glow she could accommodate. It frightened her, this…transmissionbecause it wasn’t a common occurrence.
But she said nothing because she knew it would frighten Julian more.
She opened her eyes to find his glassy and settled on the uneven plank floor. “Tell me about the walks in St. James Park you used to take with your mother,” she encouraged. Redirection had worked well in the past to lessen the intensity of a vision when he touched an object. “What was the toy you carried along? A wooden horse?”
“A valiant effort, Yank.” His hand shifted, tensed in hers, released.
“Are your visions getting stronger?” Her grandfather’s words rang in her mind.A healer must heal, Elizabeth. “The League is my inheritance, Julian, myonlyinheritance. I should be a part of it. A working member. You should have summoned me back to—”
“You wereprotected.” His tone held no room for negotiation. “Which was an overwhelming feat to accomplish in the days following your grandfather’s death.”
“His estate—”