The Third Circle

  But as she grew older he insisted that she continue the pose. “Adds an air of mystery and intrigue to the whole thing,” Edward said. “The clients want a bit of theater, whether they know it or not.”

  “Dr. Goodhew told you that your dreams were due to congestion?” she said warily to Morton.

  “Yes, precisely.” Morton’s head bobbed up and down several times. “He explained everything and assured me that you could apply certain therapies designed to relieve that congestion.”

  Harold Morton was a lecherous cad, and she was trapped with him in the small consulting room. What on earth had Dr. Goodhew been thinking when he referred him to her?

  With his slightly balding pate, well-trimmed whiskers and conservatively cut coat, Morton appeared to be every inch the respectable accountant he purported to be. But she had realized the moment she turned down the lamp and activated the emerald crystal that, regardless of his reasons for making the appointment, he was no longer interested in help for the disturbing dreams with which he claimed to be afflicted. He now had other things on his mind.

  “I regret I will not be able to help you, Mr. Morton,” she said briskly. Simultaneously she stopped channeling her own psychical energy into the crystal. The green glow began to fade.

  “What’s this?” Morton straightened angrily. “See here. Dr. Goodhew assured me that you used an exclusive therapy in an intimatesetting.”

  “I’m afraid you were misinformed as to the nature of my therapy, sir.”

  “Come now, no need to be coy, Mrs. Ravenglass.” Morton winked. “I paid Goodhew quite handsomely for the opportunity to consult with you in an intimate setting.”

  She froze. “You paid extra for the special therapy?”

  “I most certainly did.”

  “I regret to say that crystal work will not help your problem. Perhaps you should try one of Dr. Goodhew’s tonics to improve manly vigor.”

  “Nothing wrong with my manly vigor, I assure you, Mrs. Ravenglass,” Morton said quickly. “That’s why I’m here. An excess of manly vigor, that’s the problem. I need a release, just like the woman in my dreams. We need each other, Mrs. Ravenglass. Desperately.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “Nonsense.” Morton leaned forward again. His aura of flushed excitement grew stronger. “Let me describe my most recent dream. I have had it several times during the past fortnight and it is very vivid.”

  “. . . Remember, Leona, you must control the audience from the moment you take the stage. Never allow your audience to control you . . .”

  “I do not want to hear about your dreams, sir,” she said sharply. “I cannot help you.”

  Morton ignored her. “The lady in my dream is a woman who was widowed on her wedding night. Her husband died before the marriage could be consummated, and she has been forced to live for years without ever having known the gratification of normal, healthy marital relations.”

  “That will be all for today, Mr. Morton.” She made to rise from the table, intending to turn up the lamp.

  “The poor, virginal widow endures the most debilitating bouts of hysteria. Everyone knows that widows and spinsters often suffer greatly from the condition because they are deprived of normal marital relations.”

  The green crystal was still glowing, albeit faintly. It should have gone dark. Halfway to her feet, Leona sat down suddenly, shocked. Harold Morton was activating the crystal, although he seemed unaware of it.

  “I believe you are the lady of my dreams, Mrs. Ravenglass.” Morton’s voice thickened with lust. “I see now that fate has brought us together so that I can relieve your tension and prevent an attack of hysteria. That treatment will also relieve my congestion. We can satisfy each other, madam.”

  “Fate had nothing to do with our meeting, sir,” she told him coldly.

  She would have a few words to say to Dr. Goodhew. How dare he imply to male clients that she was a prostitute?

  The crystal was glowing more brightly but not in a healthy, therapeutic fashion. Morton still gave no indication that he knew that he was the one stirring the energy of the stone. Nevertheless, it was obvious that he possessed more energy than the average client and he was somehow channeling it into the green crystal.

  Everyone possessed some degree of paranormal ability. The vast majority of people lived out their entire lives unaware of it or unwilling to acknowledge it. Only in their dreams did they actively tap into that side of their natures. When they awoke, their conscious minds usually shrugged off the experience.

  But dreams were not the only way in which an individual’s latent energy surfaced. The intense emotions associated with sexual arousal could also release it. That was what was happening now. It was just bad luck that Morton had been focusing intently on the crystal when he had been overcome with his lewd urges.

  Although he was unconsciously pouring dark energy into the stone, he had no natural talent for controlling the crystal. As a result the paranormal currents generated from his own mind were rebounding on him, no doubt intensifying his sensation of arousal.

  “I know that you lie awake at night, yearning for the touch of a man, Mrs. Ravenglass,” he assured her. “I can bring you relief. Allow me to help you. No one need ever know. It will be our little secret.”

  She scooped up the illuminated crystal and got to her feet. “I assure you, I do not need your remedy, sir.”

  She channeled energy into the stone to defuse Morton’s pulses. The green crystal quickly grew cloudy and then darkened altogether.

  Morton’s chair scraped on the floor. He shot to his feet, outraged. “See here, I paid well for my therapy.”

  She wished Fog was with her this afternoon. Until recently he had always accompanied her to her consultations, spending his time dozing in the reception room or lying at her feet beneath the table. But lately she left him at home because Dr. Goodhew claimed that some of the clients complained about the presence of a large, dangerous-looking dog in the consulting rooms.

  She made a mental note to notify Goodhew that in future she would refuse all clients who professed a fear of dogs.

  “You must leave now, sir,” she said. “I have another client waiting.”

  That was not true. Morton was the last client with an appointment this afternoon, but there was no way he could know that.

  “I cannot leave you in your terrible condition, Mrs. Ravenglass.” Morton lurched to his feet. “I know how you suffer. Rest assured I will see to it that the great tension inside you is released in the most therapeutic fashion. I will bring you to a fever pitch of the most intense emotion. You will enjoy a truly cathartic release.”

  “No, thank you.” She headed toward the door.

  She had easily suppressed the energy in the crystal, but it was clear that Morton’s sexual excitement had not been dampened. He rounded the table, reaching for her with a large, beefy hand.

  “You must not leave, Mrs. Ravenglass. I will show you how desperately you need the catharsis I can give you.”

  She dodged his groping fingers. “I’m afraid that your case is highly unusual, Mr. Morton. Quite beyond my poor abilities. The fee you paid will be fully refunded, of course.”

  He managed to grab her upper arm. When he hauled her close she discovered that his breath smelled of sausage.

  “Never fear, madam. I will not breathe a word of what transpires between us here in this room,” he assured her. “As I said, it will be our secret.”

  She smiled very sweetly. “Yes, it will. Look into the crystal, sir. Let us be transported together into the realm of the metaphysical.”

  “What?” He blinked again and automatically glanced at the stone, unconsciously pouring more energy into it.

  It glowed bright green.

  This time she did not merely dampen the currents of his energy, she swamped them. Then she used the stone’s focusing power to send the tide straight into Morton’s mind.

  The energy she projected, enhanced by
the crystal, struck all of Morton’s senses with enough force to cause sudden, jolting pain.

  The green crystal, like the others, with the exception of the aurora stone, was not strong enough to do any permanent damage, but it could certainly stop a man in his tracks for a moment or two.

  With a groan of startled anguish, Morton released her arm and reeled back. He clapped both hands to his temples.

  “My head.”

  “I fear our time is up for today,” she announced.

  She rushed back to the door, yanked it open and dashed out into the reception room.

  Thaddeus Ware caught her with one arm and scooped her close against him.

  “We really must stop meeting like this,” he said.

  “What on earth?” Stunned, she stared at him, unable to believe her eyes.

  Thaddeus ignored her to fix Morton with a cold, dangerous look.

  “What is going on here?” he asked in a voice that could easily have frozen the fires of hell.

  Morton jerked in reaction. His mouth opened and closed several times before any words came out.

  “Now see here, sir,” he sputtered. “You’ll have to wait your turn. I paid for an hour-long session. I have a good thirty minutes left.”

  “You will leave now,” Thaddeus said, infusing the command with just enough energy to create a deadly soft voice of doom.

  Morton jerked violently, blanched and hurried toward the door.

  His footsteps thudded heavily on the stairs. A moment later the outer door slammed shut behind him.

  As if he had suddenly remembered that he was holding her, Thaddeus released Leona. She stepped back quickly, shaking out her skirts. It dawned on her that her veil was hanging at an awkward angle. She crumpled the black netting up onto the brim of the hat and then discovered that the hat, itself, had tilted sideways and was precariously perched over one ear.

  Thaddeus reached up, removed a few pins and plucked the hat from her head. He handed it to her with an air of grave politeness.

  “Do many of your consultations end in such an energetic fashion?” he asked without inflection.

  “Really, sir, I hardly think—” She broke off when she saw Adam Harrow standing quietly to one side. “Adam. What are you doing here?”

  “Are you all right, Leona?” Adam asked, frowning.

  “Yes, of course,” Leona said automatically. “What is going on? Why did you bring Mr. Ware with you?”

  “I’m afraid the answer to that is somewhat complicated,” Adam said apologetically.

  “There is nothing complicated about it.” Thaddeus turned his riveting eyes on Leona. “I told you that I would find you again, Miss Hewitt. You will learn that I always keep my promises.”

  14

  I REALIZE I AM no expert in the business of working crystals,”

  Thaddeus said in chillingly neutral tones, "but a single woman closeted alone in a darkened room with a strange man would appear to be a recipe for disaster.”

  “One small, admittedly unfortunate, incident does not constitute a disaster,” Leona said stiffly.

  They were in the small parlor of the little house on Vine Street. Adam had left a few minutes earlier, after apologizing quietly for the second time. Leona had assured her that she did not blame her. It had been Mr. Pierce’s decision to give Thaddeus the address of Leona’s consulting rooms. It was understood that Adam’s first loyalty was to Pierce.

  In any event, Leona thought, her feelings at the moment were too muddled to allow for any clear sense of blame. Deep down, some part of her had hoped Thaddeus would come looking for her. In spite of everything, the irrepressible, optimistic side of her nature was convinced that the passion that had leaped between them during that dark journey back to London had not been generated solely by the hallucinatory vapors.

  But now she knew that her secret fantasies were no more than the stuff of dreams. Thaddeus’s fascinating eyes were certainly not blazing with passion today. There was a cold, hard, implacable aura about him that extinguished the tiny flames of hope that had burned within her.

  All in all it had been a rather trying day. She had started out feeling a little low after spending her first night alone in the house following Carolyn’s joyous leave-taking the day before. Then came the unpleasant encounter with Harold Morton. And now this: The man of her dreams had magically appeared on her doorstep only to make it clear that the only thing he wanted from her was the aurora stone.

  Sensing her tension, Fog had taken up a protective stance next to her chair. She rested a hand on top of his head. He leaned into her skirts, his pricked ears and attentive gaze fixed on Thaddeus.

  Thaddeus stood facing her, his back to the window. He had said very little during the short carriage ride from the consulting rooms, leaving it to Adam to make the explanations.

  By the end of the journey, Leona was forced to accept the fact that Mr. Pierce had betrayed her to Thaddeus Ware because he had genuinely believed she was in danger. There were few things more annoying than having someone act in what he perceived to be one’s best interests, she reflected.

  “What would you have done if Mr. Harrow and I had not arrived when we did?” Thaddeus asked.

  Leona glowered at him. “I was in no danger. I had the situation under control.”

  “It did not appear that way,” Thaddeus said evenly.

  “It really is none of your business, sir.”

  “Probably not.” He raised his brows. “But for some reason I find myself unable to ignore the matter.”

  “Concentrate a little harder. I’m sure that if you work at it you will manage to summon the willpower required to put the issue aside and move on to other things.”

  “I disagree. Wouldn’t be surprised if I have a few unpleasant dreams tonight because of what I witnessed today.”

  “Don’t come to me for crystal therapy if that proves to be the case.” Leona fixed him with a frosty glare. “Let us get to the heart of the matter,” she said. “You are here for the aurora stone.”

  “I did warn you that it was extremely dangerous to possess,” he said, a little gentler now.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Leona, be reasonable. If I found you so easily, Delbridge may do the same.”

  She frowned. “Delbridge does not know about Adam. Nor does he have a wig to use as a clue.”

  “No, but there are other ways of finding people, even in a city this size.”

  “How?” she demanded.

  He shrugged. “If I were in his shoes, with nothing else to go on, I would start by tracking down every crystal reader in London. I’d ask questions, and I’d pay bribes until I collected some rumors and clues. It might take a great deal of time and effort, but sooner or later one of your competitors would point a finger toward you.” He paused for emphasis. “It is even possible that I would get lucky immediately.”

  She stared at him, transfixed. “Good heavens. I never thought of that approach to the problem.”

  “Something told me that it might have escaped your notice.”

  She beetled her brows. “There is no need for sarcasm, sir.”

  “Leona, I thought that we had made it clear that Delbridge has murdered at least twice in order to get his hands on the crystal. You may be his next victim if you don’t—”

  “One moment, sir.” Leona studied him closely, more suspicious than ever. “I was under the impression that you wanted the crystal for yourself. Who do you refer to when you say we?”

  “I am acting on behalf of a society of psychical researchers.”

  “There are any number of such societies, most of which are composed of gullible fools and doddering eccentrics who know nothing of the paranormal.”

  “I am well aware of that,” Thaddeus said. “And I will admit that the Arcane Society possesses more than its fair share of doddering eccentrics.”

  The shock of the name caused Leona to suck in her breath on a sharp gasp.

  “I can see that I was
mistaken,” Thaddeus said, very thoughtful now. “You do know of the Arcane Society.”

  She cleared her throat. “I believe I may have heard some vague mention of it, yes. You say you represent it? You were engaged by the organization to pursue the crystal?”

  “I was asked to investigate, yes. But I am also a member.”

  She sighed. So much for that faint hope. “I see.”

  “I like to believe that I am not yet one of the doddering eccentrics in the Society,” he continued. “But I may be deluding myself.”

  “If you meant that in jest, sir, I must tell you it was not amusing.”

  “My apologies.” He paused, regarding her with a cool, assessing expression. “I must admit I am surprised to learn that you are aware of the Society. It has always taken great pains to avoid the attention of the press.”

  “Mmm.”

  “The members take their paranormal research seriously. They have no wish to be associated with the innumerable frauds, quacks and charlatans who create sensations with their demonstrations of levitation and spirit summonings.”

  She decided to try logic. “You say the Arcane Society feels it has a claim to my crystal.”

  “Yes. It was originally the property of the founder, Sylvester Jones.”

  Rubbish, she thought, but she managed to keep her tone smooth. “And when did he lose it?”

  “It was stolen from him some two hundred years ago.”

  “Two hundred years?” She managed an airy chuckle. “You must admit that it would be difficult if not impossible to prove theft after the passage of two centuries, sir.”

  “The members of the Arcane Society have long memories,” Thaddeus said.

  “Forgive me, but I think it more likely that certain members, the doddering eccentrics, perhaps, prefer to cling to their silly legends.”

  “I did not come here to argue with you about the ownership of the crystal,” he said calmly. “I understand that you believe it is yours. We must agree to disagree on that point.”