The Spiritualist by Megan Chance Read Free Book Online

Now I was alone, and it was nearly two. Where was he?
    I felt a light touch on my shoulder and turned to see Irene Cushing, resplendent in blue taffeta. She leaned close to whisper in my ear, “Evie, I’ve heard the most delicious story.” She glanced around, as if looking for eavesdroppers. “Come with me.”
    She took my hand, and I put aside my wine and obediently followed her to the doors overlooking the Reids’ garden, which was covered with snow. Irene drew me back into the curtains, her dark eyes twinkling. “You’ll never guess what I heard.”
    Her blond curls shivered against her ears as she leaned forward again, and the gathered feathers in her hair dipped and tickled my temple. “Guess who was seen coming from the Astor House with William Perry? Florence Chaumont!” Her voice rose at the end, and she deadened it quickly. “Can you believe it? I heard he had rooms there, and she met him after her performance, and no one saw her leave until morning.”
    William Perry was one of the upper ten thousand—the very highest rung of the social ladder—and a stalwart invitee to every event. I said, “Why would he do such a thing?”
    She didn’t seem to hear me, so intent was she on spilling the tale. “I heard that Mrs. Astor planned to cut him, of course, and you know Mademoiselle Chaumont will be dead to everyone by the end of the day.”
    “But his wife—”
    “Oh yes, well, she’s humiliated. Simply humiliated. If you’ll notice, she isn’t here tonight. Nor is he.”
    “I hadn’t noticed.”
    “How could you not? Didn’t you wonder when he didn’t ask for a dance? You’re one of his favorites.”
    “I confess I’ve been a bit distracted—”
    “Yes.” She sighed. “I see Peter isn’t here. Again.”
    “The trial…” I made a dismissive gesture, which set the candles on the nearby sideboard to flickering madly.
    “Oh, who do you think you’re talking to, Evie? Perhaps you can hide from the others, but I can see: you’ve been dull all night! Where’s your legendary charm? Even Captain Post commented that you seemed peaked. Have you been having nightmares again?”
    “It seems they never go away,” I said. “But that’s not what bothers me. The truth is that I’m worried about Peter. I know it’s not done to confess you care about your husband, but—”
    “Good Lord, I long to be rid of Daniel for a few days. You simply need to keep yourself busy. I know—we’ll go shopping Monday. And have a luncheon at Taylor’s.”
    “That should cure Monday,” I said.
    “You need an occupation. A hobby, perhaps.”
    “How many watercolors can one paint, Irene? Especially when one has as little talent as I do? I’ve got them littered about the house already. Even the servants wince when they go by them.”
    “But Peter’s always been busy. I thought you liked the freedom he accorded you.” She looked at me with concern and sympathy, and I knew that, unlike my other friends in this room, I could trust Irene to truly listen. And because of that, I revealed what I never would have otherwise.
    I bent close to say, “It’s not just that. You know he’s been going to spirit circles?”
    She nodded and shuddered. “I confess I don’t understand it.
    All this talk of ghosts and such! There’s nothing a spirit could say to me that I care to hear, I can promise you.”
    “Yes, well, Peter believes it,” I said glumly. “And he’s fallen in with a new medium who makes him think he’s speaking to his mother’s spirit.”
    “Elizabeth Atherton?” Irene laughed. “I can’t imagine her deigning to return through a spirit rapper. The Second Coming would be more to her liking.”
    I smiled weakly. “You’re a philistine, Irene.”
    “So I’ve been told. I’d thought Peter too canny to get caught up in such business.”
    “This man is very convincing.”
    “A man? How odd for a medium. You’ve seen him?”
    I nodded. “Thursday night. Peter insisted I meet him. He’s