“Oh.” Colin and I exchanged looks. I knew better than to ask, but some part of me had hoped she could help me with my newfound, ill-approved talent. Colin shook his head at me, nearly imperceptible. Unlike me, he knew better than to open his big mouth. I drank more tea to keep myself occupied. At this rate, I’d have to slosh my way into the drawing room. Mother scrutinized me for a long moment before nodding her head.

“You look very nice,” she said finally. “That dress is becoming on you.”

I was wearing a dress with periwinkle and black stripes. I’d sewn silk violets along the neckline to make it more current. She leaned forward and pinched my cheeks.

“Ouch!”

“You need a few roses, a little color to entice your Mr. Trethewey. We can’t let all our hard work slip away now.”

I’d forgotten all about him.

“I’m very proud of you, darling. He’s got deep pockets, and a handsome face. You could hardly ask for better.”

I squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable. Colin’s gaze burned over me but I refused to look over. Mother watched us both. “He’ll ask for your hand once we’re in London,” she continued smugly. “He’s already asked to pay us a call, and his mother is all kindness to you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

The sun was setting behind the hills. It was almost time for us to go downstairs.

“Colin, you go on ahead,” Mother told him. He stood and executed a very small bow but he aimed it mostly at me. When I rose to follow, Mother stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Don’t be a fool, Violet.”

I blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“He’s a good boy but he’s no better than he should be. You’d be an idiot to toss Mr. Trethewey and his very respectable family for a penniless orphan.”

“I’m not tossing anybody,” I said hotly, jerking my arm away. “And Colin’s always done everything you’ve ever asked of him. How can you talk about him like that?”

“It’s the truth,” she said with a negligent shrug. “You can love him, Violet, but you can’t marry him. What would you eat? Mud? Ash? He has no prospects.”

“I don’t love Colin.” Did I? Surely not.

“Then we have nothing to worry about, do we?”

I shook my head sulkily. I wasn’t sure when marrying Colin had even become a possibility, or if it was one I would entertain, but I certainly didn’t like the implication that he wasn’t good enough. It made me feel decidedly cross and stubborn.

“Can we go now?”

She swept passed me toward the doorway.

“Remember,” she said, as usual. “No mistakes.”

The drawing room was quite crowded, the guests gossiping and chatting among themselves, sipping glasses of red wine or champagne. The gardens were dark and quiet behind the thick velvet curtains. There was no fire in the grate, but several oil lamps burned and a single candle sat on the mantel, as per my mother’s request. Colin was at his post by the door, watching carefully even though he appeared to everyone else to be staring at the wall like any good footman.

Lord Jasper came toward us, his cane thumping on the gleaming hardwood floor. He wore black tonight, as did most of the men, with a starched white shirt. “Mrs. Willoughby, we are all looking forward to a demonstration of your rare gifts.” He bowed. “And yours, Miss Willoughby, should you be so inclined.”

I blushed to the roots of my hair, squirming awkwardly. Mother stared at me through narrowed eyes for a brief moment before smiling graciously at Lord Jasper. “The spirits are eager to join us,” she said.

“I am delighted to hear it.”

“Quite a crush, tonight,” Mother remarked, pleased.

“You are quite a sensation, my dear. Shall we have a seat?”

Mother nodded, taking his arm. “If I could have a quiet moment to open my senses?”

“Of course.”

Mother sat in a wide-backed chair at the round mahogany table in the center of the room. She looked like a queen, merely waiting for the courtiers to bend a knee to her. This quiet moment was part of the show; it showed her off to her best advantage, pale, beautiful, and unapproachable. Lord Marshall hovered nearby, his eyes smoldering as he drank from a glass of wine. I didn’t like him any more than I had before. Mr. Travis was staring, as always. This time he went back and forth between Tabitha and me. I turned slightly, not wanting to make eye contact. I was trying to find a way to keep an eye on him without making myself obtrusive when Elizabeth eased away from her mother and spoke quietly at my elbow.

“Do you think Rowena will come?”

I shrugged even though I knew the answer: most assuredly not. Or, if she did come, my mother wouldn’t notice. “How’s Tabitha? Mr. Travis is watching her, but she really doesn’t seem to know him.”

“He’s in trade, don’t forget. She won’t speak to him unless absolutely necessary. She only flirts with Xavier to needle you. Besides, she’s had a row with Caroline and she isn’t speaking to anybody now, not even her uncle.”

My stomach tilted nervously. This was worse than our usual small sittings, with the grieving widows and bored peers out for a thrill. There were so many more people here tonight; many had traveled all the way from London for the experience. And they were all watching and waiting for my mother to contact their beloved dead. My mother was pretending, but some of these people really were grieving. I felt awful, like a beetle about to be stepped on.