Page 13 of Unforeseen Affairs (The Sedleys #6)

In the weeks following the fateful spirit circle, Mrs. Stone received no further invitations for sittings, nor any offers to join—or rejoin—any of the notable spiritualist societies.

This silence seeped into Mrs. Stone’s own perceptive abilities, and her visions and prognostications subsequently became few and far between.

It frustrated Charlotte.

After the Thaddeus Taggart Bass debacle, she’d pressed Mrs. Stone, desperate to know the exact nature of her mentor’s former association with the famed conjurer.

Mrs. Stone, though, sealed her lips tighter than a sarcophagus.

For the next several days she refused to leave her bed, and the shop was closed.

So Charlotte decided to resolve the matter on her own.

Sitting in the back row of the Egyptian Hall for the fourth time in a fortnight, she stifled a yawn.

One might think that Mr. Bass, for the final show of his London engagement, would shuffle up his so-called “amazing” feats, in an effort to create a special grand finale.

But no; with only minutes left before the show would end—to raucous applause, no doubt—he had begun performing the same trick that Charlotte had seen thrice before—a “daring mid-air extravaganza,” per the program.

Mr. Bass’s body elevated above the stage in a wobbly, haphazard ascent. The audience gasped, though it was barely audible above the loud strains of the orchestra.

A man seated in front of her let out a low whistle.

“How does he do it?” exclaimed a woman somewhere to her right.

With a narrow metal frame and some thin wires, no doubt. Despite the music’s frenetic pace, Charlotte fancied she could hear the hidden contraption’s straining and squeaking that the orchestra was meant to conceal.

But she kept her thoughts to herself. The assembled had paid good money for this thrill, and she would not deprive them of it. As Mr. Bass was hoisted above the stage, swaying to and fro, she studied the engraving printed on the front of her program.

The image portrayed this very feat—Mr. Bass levitating above a stage, arms outstretched in a Christ-like posture, which was further emphasized by the suggestion of a ring of light surrounding him.

None of this provided Charlotte with the insight she had come for, though—namely, how to publicly embarrass Mr. Bass to the point that he would have to give up his career as a medium.

This was the fourth time she had attended this show and still she had no idea how she might do that.

Nor was she any closer to knowing what might have transpired between the popular flimflammer and the peculiar yet talented Mrs. Stone.

He’d called her “Elsie.” There must be a reason for that.

Charlotte remained in her seat, thinking as the performance wound down through several rounds of applause and cheers.

If she had to choose one of Mr. Bass’s tricks to be discredited before an audience, which should it be?

Surely not the finale, in which he flew above the stage, for sabotaging that could result in consequences more dire than those she wished to inflict upon Mr. Bass.

Charlotte supposed she could be somewhat heartless at times, but she was no murderess.

She frowned as she ran through his other false acts in her mind, weighing the options.

The show had now come to an end, and soon nearly everyone had filed out, leaving crumpled programs and newspapers strewn about the theater.

She felt a sudden prickling at the back of her neck. Someone was watching her.

With the speed of a bird of prey she spun her head, fixing the offender with a cool stare.

Sir Colin Gearing stood across the theater, innocent-looking aside from a slight wariness about his eyes. He did have nice eyes, Charlotte allowed, remembering their previous close encounters. An earthy green, she recalled.

He nodded at her.

When she did not move to answer, he crossed the room, weaving through the empty rows of seats to approach her.

There was something appealing about the way he walked, the way he occupied space. Self-assured and optimistic, in Charlotte’s estimation. In a manner that might be expected of a man who trusted the world to treat him kindly. After all, why wouldn’t it? He was a naval officer, handsome and affable.

And a national hero.

She’d thought about him a fair amount in the aftermath of the spirit circle.

She had never been one to dwell overmuch upon men—of any sort—and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

Nor had she known what to make of the jolt that had run through her when he’d taken her hand at the circle.

Charlotte had dug through her father’s library and study until she’d found a magazine recounting Sir Colin’s accomplishment at sea, when he’d assumed command of his ship and captured two treasure- laden privateer vessels after the captain and first lieutenant had both fallen violently ill below decks from a tainted bit of lamb.

To Charlotte, who steadfastly eschewed all animal flesh, that detail was very much the best part.

“Miss Sedley,” Sir Colin said with an earnest smile, “what a surprise, finding you here!”

“Sir Colin.”

He glanced around the empty theater. Their only companions were the massive columns and the carved scarabs and hieroglyphics upon the walls.

“Er—is Mrs. Stone not with you?”

“She doesn’t care for crowds,” Charlotte said.

A slight flush tinged his cheeks, and she knew he wondered what in the blazes she was doing out and about unchaperoned.

But she did not wish to elaborate on how Cousin Bess possessed such an excitable temperament that it would have been poor judgment on Charlotte’s part to drag her here four times in two weeks, and that her father and stepmother, of course, had their hands full with Thalia and Lucius.

Her two half-siblings had dug a hole in the garden so deep that strict intervention had become absolutely necessary, lest they tunnel all the way underneath the house and damage its foundations and plumbing.

Charlotte had never seen Susanna, her stepmother, at such a total loss for words.

“Right,” he said kindly, though with a hint of uncertainty as he searched her face.

“And how is Lieutenant Pearce?” Charlotte asked. She knew very well that she ought not, but she was eager to hear more of the repercussions of the tawdry séance. Despite being a slight to Mrs. Stone, it had been exceptionally entertaining. “You know,” she added flatly, “Abdon? Mr. A?”

He glanced down for a moment, then looked back up at her, doing his best not to grimace.

Ah . Something interesting had happened.

“Not well, if I’m being perfectly honest,” Sir Colin admitted. “The charge of fathering a bastard child is not one to be taken lightly.”

“Oh?”

“And the abandonment of the mother…” Sir Colin flushed deeper. “I beg your pardon, it’s not a polite subject, but… well. That aspect of it is, perhaps, the more egregious.”

Charlotte cocked her head slightly as she studied him.

He seemed genuine in his concern for his friend.

She would be justified in revealing the particulars of her own bastard birth just then, but she decided against it.

It was possible he already knew, given the notoriety of the Sedley family, but she did not think so.

“And do you believe it?”

“Believe…?”

“Is Lieutenant Pearce guilty as charged?”

“No!” Sir Colin said forcefully. “Of course not! The man’s very nearly a brother to me.”

“He denied it, then?”

“I… I think so,” Sir Colin said, sheepishly scratching behind one ear. “I don’t remember exactly what was said when I went to him; we were both quite upset. But I have no reason to believe him dishonest. Or dishonorable.”

He sat down next to her, leaving two open seats between them for propriety’s sake. At this distance, Charlotte could see the stubble of his night whiskers. They were a deeper shade of red than the hair upon his head. More of an auburn, really.

“Perhaps not,” Charlotte said, looking now to the empty stage before them, its heavy velvet curtains hanging still. “But there is more than enough reason to believe Mr. Bass dishonest.”

She felt his eyes upon her.

“Now… why do you say that? I assumed you to be…” His words petered out.

“What?” Charlotte turned back and turned up one corner of her lips. “What is it you assume of me, Sir Colin?”

He stared at her for a moment too long—just enough to send that same flutter coursing through her, just as the touch of his hand had before. The sudden jolt melted into an uneasy warmth.

His look made Charlotte certain that he’d thought on her just as she had on him. She typically preferred to escape everyone’s notice, which was usually far more conducive to her aims. In this case, though, she decided she enjoyed his consideration.

Sir Colin finally dropped his eyes, ostensibly studying the program she still held in her hand.

“What I meant to say is, I wonder—that is, if you don’t mind me asking—did Mrs. Stone have any opinion on the proceedings?

” He cleared his throat and looked back to her, a tentative hopefulness in his expression.

“Or, perhaps you might have as well? Have you any opinion on the, er, veracity of Mr. Bass’s assertions? ”

“Yes,” she said, but did not elaborate.

A silence descended between them, stretching out awkwardly as they could hear people out in the central Waterloo Gallery, shuffling between the various exhibits and lecture rooms within the Egyptian Hall.

It really was a spectacle of a building, all done up as an ancient temple, and it tended to host entertainments meant to be eye-catching in their own way: art exhibitions and other types of shows promoted as mysterious and exotic.

Charlotte thought the venue fit Mr. Bass very well.