Marriage.

It was all very well for Miss Hurstman to talk about reason, and waiting, and thinking of the years of marriage, but could she bear not to do it? Wouldnat she regret it all her life, wondering what it might have been? Whether it might have been true heavena aa Hawkinville.a With a start, she realized that they were talking about Hawka"as if he were a piece of meat on a butcheras slab.

aHandsome.a aPerhaps a little lightly built.a aBut wide shoulders.a aAnd excellent thighs!a Thighs! Sally Highcroft had been looking at Hawkas thighs?

aDelicious blue eyes.a aI prefer brown myself,a said Violet.

Clarissa was astonished to find that her fingers were trying to make claws.

It was Althea, however, who spoke up. aI donat think it at all seemly to talk about a gentleman in this way.a Violet laughed. Her practiced laugh that said that others were silly, unsophisticated ninnies. aThey do it about us all the time, according to my brother.a aLadies,a said Althea, ashould set a higher standard. And we should be more respectful of those who fought for us in the war.a This did subdue everyone, and Clarissa flashed Althea a grateful smile.

aBut did he fight?a asked Violet, who never stayed subdued for long.

aQuartermastering, I believe.a Again Althea was there first. aSuch administrative matters are extremely important, Lady Violet. My late fiance was in the army, and he often said so.a aYou cannot deny that an officer who was often in battle is more dashing.a aNo. But I can deny that dash is the most important thing about any gentleman!a Althea was in her Early Christian Martyr mood, and clearly ready to throw herself to the lions. Or turn into one. Poor Florence was looking close to tears, so Clarissa rushed in. aThere are any number of eligible names being discussed here who never went to war at all. We can surely assess each gentleman as to his qualities.a Remembering Miss Hurstmanas words, she added, aTheir qualities as husbands over the next twenty, forty, sixty years.a aLud!a exclaimed Florence, but with a grateful look, awhat a dismal thought. Theyall all be boring, bulging, and bald by then.a aSo will most of us,a said Althea, still looking militant.

aNot bald,a Clarissa pointed out.

aGray, then,a said Althea, but she relaxed.

aThank heavens for the dye pota"a Violet was interrupted by a maid, and Florence leaped up with obvious relief. aSpeaking of futures, I have a special treat for us. The fortune-teller Madame Mystique has been engaged to give us each a reading. Iam sure one of the things she will be able to predict will be our marital fate. Now, who would like to go first?a Everyone politely urged Florence to be first, and when she left, Clarissa led a determined foray into talk about fashion. Violet would still be a cat, but it was unlikely to become quite so personal.

Florence returned blushing, and Violet leaped up to go next.

aWell,a Sally asked, awhat did she say? Are you allowed to tell?a aItas not like a wish, Sally.a Florence sat down among them. aShe spoke of a man of honor and good family. And she mentioned his high brow.a She looked around, blushing. aThat does sound rather like Lord Arthur Carlyon, doesnat it?a So, that was where Florenceas interest lay. A pleasant man who was showing signs of losing his hair. A high brow. Madame Mystique was clearly tactful, and clever as well.

They had played at fortune-telling at school, so she understood how it was done. If possible, the fortuneteller learned about her clients beforehand, and, of course, certain things could please almost everyone. Promises of happiness in love and of good fortune. Flattering comments about strength and wisdom. In addition, and most important, a fortune-teller watched to see what random comments triggered a response.

Having been engaged for this event, Madame Mystique would have learned about Florence, at the very least. She might even have been given the guest list. Clarissa assumed she would be told about Hawk. Handsome, honorable, and a war hero, and perhaps something cryptic about a bird.

Violet returned not so pleased, having been told that the ideal husband for her was not highborn, but wealthy. aThe woman is a charlatan!a But Miriam returned with high hopes of Sir Ralph Willoughby. aBut Queen Cleopatra said I must be bolder with him!a aQueen Cleopatra?a Florence asked.

aApparently sometimes Queen Cleopatra speaks through Madame to give a special message. She said that if I want Sir Ralph to show the depth of his feelings, Ia must not be so nervous of being alone with him.a She looked around for advice.

Clarissa, thinking of her time at the fair with Hawk, knew that Queen Cleopatra had the right idea, but she wouldnat say so with Violet listening.

Althea said, aShe is right, after a fashion, Miriam. I have, after all, been engaged to marry. Some men find it hard to show their feeling when constantly under the eye of others. This does not mean that you should go far apart with him, or put yourself in danger.a aOh,a said Miriam, her thoughts obviously churning. Her eyes flickered around the group. aShe also saidaa aYes?a aThat touch could encourage a gentleman.a Touch! Clarissa couldnat imagine Miriam sliding her hand into Sir Ralphas pocket.

aShe said that when most touches are improper, they can have great power. That since ladies are generally gloved, our naked hands haveaa"she looked at her own pale handa"asensual power.a aNaked!a exclaimed Florence, looking at her own hand. aI suppose we are gloved when out of the house. So we make an excuse to take off our glovesa"a aAnd then touch his skin,a said Miriam, who looked as if she didnat quite believe what she was saying.

Clarissa thought about the fair, about sticky buns, and Hawkas hand on her wrist. A naked wrista aLud!a said Lady Violet. aYouare all talking like Haymarket whores. The woman is depraved.a Miriam flushed. aWeare only talking about touching hands, Violet!a aOr faces, I suppose,a said Florence, eyes bright with mischief. aHands and faces are the only naked spots available, arenat they? No wonder men go around so wrapped up. Itas probably like armor.a They fell into a laughing view of a world where men were terrified of attacking female hands, but then it was Clarissaas turn to visit Madame Mystique.

Chapter Twelve.

She was smiling as she followed the maid to the room set aside and hoping that she, too, would be advised by the naughty Queen Cleopatra. The dispensing of such titillating advice doubtless explained the womanas popularity.

The maid opened the door to reveal a curtain. Clarissa pushed it aside and entered the room.

Gloom halted her. If this room had windows, the curtains were drawn, for there seemed to be no natural light.

There was some light, however. Hanging oil lamps with dark, jewel-colored glass turned the room into a mysterious cave of swaying shadows. The oil must be perfumed, for a sweet, exotic tang wafted through the air, making this place like an otherworld, nothing to do with fashionable Brighton at all. Clarissa shivered, then reminded herself that this was all theatrics.

Madame Mystique sat behind a table covered with a pale, shimmering cloth. She wore some kind of dark silken robe and a veil over the lower half of her face. Her hair was covered by a helmet of silver coins that hung down to her shoulders in back and to her eyebrows in front. Her large eyes were heavily outlined in black.

aSit,a she said in a soft foreign voice, aand I will reveal the secrets of your heart.a Clarissa knew that running away now would make her look the fool, so despite a flash of irrational panic, she took the few steps and sat down across the table from the woman.

There was nothing to fear here, and yet wariness was tightening her shoulders and causing her heart to pound. Perhaps it was simply the intent look in the womanas eyes, but, of course, she would only be studying her for things to use in her apredictions.a There was no crystal ball. Instead, the table was scattered with an assortment of itemsa"well-used cards with strange designs, carved sticks, disks with markings, unpolished stones in many shapes and colors, and ornate ribbons, some of them knotted.

aSurely I know the secrets of my own heart,a she said as lightly as she could. aI would rather you tell me something I do not know.a aIndeed? Then consider the items on the table,a the fortune-teller said with an elegant sweep of a beringed hand, aand pick the three that interest you most.a Clarissa stared at the objects, wondering what each meant. She didnat believe in fortune-telling, but even so she was suddenly nervous of letting this woman probe. She picked ordinary, unrevealing thingsa"one stick, a plain length of ribbon, and a clear chunk of crystal.

Madame Mystique took them, holding them. aYou have secrets. Many secrets. And they trouble you greatly.a Clarissa stiffened with annoyance. Of course someone who picked the plainest items was trying to hide things. aEveryone has secrets.a aNot at all.a The large eyes smiled. aHave you not noticed how many people long to tell their secrets if they can only find an excuse? You, however, have true secrets. You would be afraid to whisper them into the ground for fear that the growing grass would speak of them.a Clarissa almost rose to leave, but she remembered in time that any sharp reaction would tell Madame Mystique that her guess was correct. She produced a shrug. aThen I am managing to keep them secret from myself as well.a But why was the woman touching on such matters?

Was it possible she truly did have powers? That could be disastrous!

Cradling the items, the woman asked, aWhat did you come here to learn?a aI didnat. You are simply a party favor.a She intended it to be a slight.

The woman was as impassive as the Sphinx, however, and Clarissa realized that her eye decoration was in the Egyptian style. aBut you came. What brought you here? What do you wish to learn?a After a moment, Clarissa said the obvious. aSomething about my future husband.a That should not lead to dangerous matters.

aVery well.a The fortune-teller let the objects fall on the table and picked up the three cards they landed on. She laid them in front of Clarissa, each with a sharp snap. aHe will be handsome. He will be braveaa Snap. aHe will be poorer than you.a Clarissa stared, her heart thundering now. Few young ladies married poorer men. But then she almost sagged with relief. Madame Mystique had done her preparatory work and knew Clarissa was the Devilas Heiress.

aHow tedious,a she drawled. aCan you tell me nothing more?a aWhat do you truly wish to know?a Will Hawk offer marriage? Should I accept? Will he stir the issue of Deverilas death to our destruction? Whom can I trust?

Unable to ask the questions that mattered, Clarissa stared at Madame Mystique.

The woman exclaimed with exasperation. aAh! You are so guarded. Knotted. You will strangle yourself!a She seized Clarissaas right hand to peer at the lines. Clarissa thought of fighting free, but part of her had to know what the woman would say next.

aAh,a said Madame Mystique again, but softly this time. aNow I see. I see blood. I see a knife.a Clarissa began to drag her hand away, but then she remembered. The woman was fishing for a reaction. That was how fortunetellers worked. That and prior knowledge.

But a chill swept over her, as if the cold wind outside was whistling through the curtains. What strange waters to fish in.

She calmly pulled her hand free. On the slight chance that Madame Mystique might have the true sight, she must get away from her.

aYou have nothing to fear from me,a said the woman, abut you are right to be afraid. Your secrets are dangerous.a In a very soft voice she added, aA murder, yes?a Clarissa was nailed in place, not knowing whether to stay or flee.

aA murder linked to money. Much money. But it is poisoned, my dear. It comes from evil and will always carry evil. You must escape its toils.a aI donat know what youare talking about.a Clarissa instantly knew she shouldnat have spoken, because all the willpower in the world couldnat make her voice sound convincing. But her silence must have been eloquent, too.

Sweat was sending chills down her spine, and she didnat know what to do. It was as if the woman were forcing open a door into the past, into secrets and places that must stay in the dark forever.

aListen to me.a The fortune-teller leaned forward, capturing Clarissa with her large, dark eyes. aThe money will bring you nothing but pain. You must tell the truth about it or it will cause you agony and death. Guard yourself, guard yourself! There are rogues around you who will cause your ruin.a Rogues? Clarissa felt her heart rise up to choke her.

The Company of Rogues?

But then she shivered with relief. aRoguesa was just a word. A word for scoundrels. Of course a person should avoid scoundrels. This woman couldnat possibly know about the Company of Rogues.

And all she had said could come from common knowledge. She was the Devilas Heiress. Lord Deveril had been stabbed to death, and shead ended up with his undoubtedly dirty money. She couldnat imagine why Madame Mystique was making such high drama out of it except for effect.

Perhaps having at least one guest totter out of the room white and shaking was good for business.

aI inherited a great deal of money from a man who was murdered,a she said flatly. aThe whole world knows that. I thought you were going to tell me something new.a The flash of annoyance in the womanas eyes was satisfying, but Clarissa wanted to leave. Would it hint at guilt?

aYou refuse to recognize your danger,a the woman said. aI will ask Queen Cleopatra to advise you.a Ah, the sensual advice. That she could deal with. But then the clear chime of a bell almost shocked her out of her chair.

aI am Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile,a said Madame Mystique in a high-pitched, ethereal voice. aMy handmaiden speaks for me.a Despite herself, Clarissa couldnat help a shiver.

aBeware,a the voice sang out. aBeware all rogues!a Itas just a word.

aBeware a man with the initials N.D.a Clarissa stopped breathing.

Nicholas Delaney?

Could Madame Mystique have found out the name of the leader of the Rogues? Impossible!

Could she have the true gift?

If so, how much had the woman had seen in her hand? Had she seen whose blood, whose knife? And what was this danger that surrounded her, connected to the money?

aN.D. does not want you to tell the truth,a the eerie voice continued, abut you must. Only then will you be free. Heed my words. Heed them, or you will die within the year.a Die? Clarissa felt as if she were fighting for breath. Tell the truth? She couldnat! She couldnat possibly.

The dark-lined eyes opened. aQueen Cleopatra does not speak to everyone,a Madame Mystique said in her ordinary voice. aI hope what she said was useful.a aYou donat know?a aI am merely the vessel for her words.a The dark eyes studied her. aYou are upset. I am sorry. She usually brings good advice.a Clarissa somehow dragged herself out of her trance. The woman must never know how close her words had come to dangerous matters. aEverything Iave heard here was nonsense,a she said. aIn fact, you didnat really predict my future at all.a Madame Mystique did not seem upset. She picked up the plain crystal and placed it in Clarissaas hand, closing her fingers over it. aYou do not believe, but keep this stone. It will help you when your troubles begin.a Clarissa could only think how Hawkas touch had made her shiver, and this one made her shudder. She wanted to leave the woman convinced that her predictions and warnings had been meaningless, but hunt as she might she could not find the right words. In the end she simply turned and walked out of the room.

She took a moment to steady herself, slapping her cheeks a little since she was sure she was pale. Then she returned to the drawing room, trying for a light smile.

Someone else left to see Madame Mystique, and the others began questioning Clarissa.

aWhat did she say?a aWhom are you to marry?a aWas it frightening?a Althea asked. aYou look a little pale.a Clarissa found a shrug. aTerrifying! She said I would marry a man poorer than myself.a aBut a truth,a said Violet.

aYes, of course. Clearly she has the gift. Althea, do you have one of your headaches?a Althea, bless her, took her cue. aIam afraid so, Clarissa. I donat wish to spoil your enjoymentaa aNot at all. It is late.a She thanked Florence for the party, and soon they were out in the fresh air with their footman for escort on the short walk home.

aYou seem upset,a Althea said as they walked.

aNot really, but it was a silly event.a Althea glanced at her. aBecause they were discussing Major Hawkinville?a That was a much safer speculation than any other, so Clarissa smiled and admitted it.

In bed, however, anxiety defeated sleep.

Madame Mystique had clearly seen more than could be guessed or discovered. What if she talked? She might even go to the magistrates to tell them about a young woman involved with blood and murder. When people realized the young woman was the murdered Lord Deverilas betrothed and heir, might that not start speculation?

The Rogues had clearly covered up the events of that night very skillfully, but was it skillful enough to resist an intense investigation?

She tried to tell herself that Madame Mystique would see no profit in going to the authorities. Magistrates tended to look sourly on such fairground tricks, and the woman had no proof.

Clarissa couldnat be sure, though. She couldnat be sure!

And the woman had predicted her death if she didnat somehow get rid of the money.

No, if she didnat tell the truth about the money.

What truth? The will, at least, was honest.

aTrutha must refer to the fact that a person involved in a death could not benefit from it. That had been explained to her. Mr. Delaney had not been crude about it, but shead understood. If she let slip the truth about Lord Deverilas death, many people would suffer, including her. She was ashamed to think that at the time shead appeared to be the sort of ninny who would gabble, but she hadnat been at her best.

And perhaps she was that sort of ninny. She knew shead said a few things to Hawk that she shouldnat have.

She couldnat tell the truth, though. That was completely impossible.

What should she do?

She chewed on her knuckle. The Rogues should be warned about this danger. She didnat want to contact Mr. Delaney. She would have to confess to being less than reliable, but on top of that, they all made her uneasy. They seemed to be good men, honorable men. Except perhaps the brutish Marquess of Arden. But they were also ruthless. Only think how coolly theyad reacted to bloody murder!. Mr. Delaney had seemed almost amused. Perhaps, behind their superficial gloss, they were too like Arden, given to violence when crossed.

But she had to tell them. They had risked much for her, so she must guard them. She slipped out of bed and lit a candle from her nightlight. When Althea did not stir, she wrote a very carefully phrased warning to Nicholas Delaney. She folded it, sealed it, and returned to bed to plot how to get it into the post without anyone knowing. She might be going to extremes, but Miss Hurstman was bound to question her about the connection, and she didnat want to tangle in any more deceit.

Madame Mystique collected the items from the table and left her assistant, Samuel, to clear away the lamps and curtains. She left the room, hearing the last of the guests taking an excited farewell, and dispatched a maid to tell Lady Babbington that she was ready to leave.

The plump and amiable lady bustled into view, beaming. aThank you so much, Madame Mystique! The girls are thrilled with your prognostications.a Therese smiled. Young women were always excited by ways to entice and entrance men.

Lady Babbington extended the guineas, then tittered. aThey talk of crossing a gypsyas palm with gold, donat they?a Older women, too.

aBut I am not a gypsy, madame. My art is an older one than theirs.a She held out her hand, and when the flustered woman put the money into it, she added, aBut sometimes visions come to me. You are a very fortunate woman, madame, blessed by the fates with a healthy family and a loving husband.a aOh, yes. Yes indeed!a aBut the fires perhaps only smolder?a She reached into her bag of items and pulled out a ribbon at random. A blue one. aBlue,a she said, ais your color of power. Take this ribbon, Lady Babbington, and wear it on your person at all times. It reminds you of your younger days, yes? When you and your husband first fell in love?a Lady Babbington looked a little blank, but then said, aIam sure I had ribbons of all kinds then.a aYou will recall. You will recall much about those times. Then you will look at your husband and see that man who thrilled you so, and it will be so again.a The woman was pink but fascinated. She even looked younger.

Madame Mystique patted her on the hand. aYou and your husband are really no different, are you, now? Good night, my lady, and thank you for engaging me.a aOh. Good night, Iam sure.a Madame Mystique made her way out of the back of the house. Or rather, Therese Bellaire did, not totally disappointed by her nightas work. A number of women might lead more interesting lives because of ita"and she had met Deverilas heiress.

Not what she had expected. More brain and steel. But shead confirmed by her reactions that the Rogues were involved.

That Nicholas was involved.

She waited in the basement for Samuel, telling fortunes for free for the servants, promising them windfalls, handsome admirers, and appreciation for their talent.

For so many people, that was all they wanted, to be appreciated, though often for talents they did not possess. The cook was not the finest, but a simple compliment about her cake and she preened. When she was told she was appreciated, she doubtless saw herself the talk of Brighton for her culinary skills.

The lanky footman in the overlarge livery, Adamas apple bobbing, probably saw himself as the object of every housemaidas lust. The shy, dough-faced maid envisioned being snatched up by a solid tradesman because of her unpretentious goodness.

This fortune-telling was such an easy business that she could no doubt make her living at it forever. But she would have her fortune.

If Deveril had not already been dead, she would have killed him for stealing it from her two years ago. Now her sole purpose was to get it back. It was hers, earned in the sweetest ploy ever imagined, and Deveril would not have been able to steal it if not for Nicholas Delaney and his Company of Rogues.

Samuel arrived, the curtains in a bundle and the empty lamps dangling from his big right hand.

A strapping lad for seventeen, and of course he was devoted to her.

She adored him, as she adored all handsome young mena As a tiger adores goats.

She rose and took her leave of the dazzled servants, who would spread the word. No, Madame Mystique would never lack work here in Brighton. But her main concern was her plan.

Would the heiress heed her warning? Would she confide in someone that the Rogues had killed Deveril and forged that will? Alas, it was unlikely, and she hadnat spilled any information.