“Yes, I do,” Nick said. “And so does Miss Walters.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, Miss Tate, that the danger to your friend is coming from a number of different quarters.”

Gilmore Leybrook smiled at Virginia. “You and Mr. Sweetwater have caused quite a stir among the practitioners here at the Institute. I gather you have consented to allow him to study you while you work. How very daring of you, Miss Dean.”

Owen drank some champagne while he listened to Leybrook talk with Virginia. Idly he toyed with the notion of ripping Leybrook’s head off his shoulders. It would be a very pleasant, extremely satisfying project, but Virginia would probably not approve.

Good lord, I’m jealous, he thought.

The realization jolted him. It had been so long since he had experienced the primitive emotion that he had almost failed to recognize it. There were, after all, other sensations that raised the hair on the nape of a man’s neck and induced a fierce, battle-ready tension that tightened every muscle in his body. Hunting had a similar effect. But there was nothing else on the face of the earth that twisted the gut and threatened to override common sense the way jealousy did.

Approximately a minute after she had made the introductions, Owen had concluded that the founder and director of the Leybrook Institute was intelligent, cunning and ruthless. No great insight or intuition was required to produce that analysis. Those qualities were only to be expected in the man who had managed to create a successful financial enterprise based, for the most part, on fraud and deception.

The truly intriguing thing about Leybrook was that the atmosphere around him was ever so slightly charged with the telltale energy of some strong talent. Many of his practitioners were frauds, but Leybrook himself possessed a strong psychical nature. That made him far more dangerous than any charlatan.

“Mr. Sweetwater is a professional researcher,” Virginia said. “I saw no reason not to allow him to observe me.”

Adriana Walters smiled at Owen. “How fascinating, Mr. Sweetwater. Do tell us what you have discovered about Miss Dean.”

Objectively speaking, Adriana was a stunningly beautiful woman, Owen thought. It was a pity about the eyes. They reminded him of the eyes of the clockwork dragon.

“I have no doubt at all about Miss Dean’s talent,” he said. “She is a very powerful practitioner.”

Leybrook looked at him, one dark brow elegantly arched. Icy speculation glittered in his eyes. “Unfortunately you did not come to the same conclusion about two other practitioners associated with the Institute.”

“I’m certain they will recover their careers,” Owen said. “It takes more than a few negative comments in the press to destroy a clever practitioner. The public is only too willing to believe. But then, I’m sure you already know that, Leybrook. You have built a very successful business on that concept.”

“Sadly, the two glass-readers who suffered mysterious and untimely ends in the past two months will not be able to recover, will they?” Leybrook asked softly.

Virginia froze. So did a number of other people in the vicinity. Heads turned. An acute and unnatural silence fell on the guests who happened to be standing nearby.

Adriana took a sharp breath. “Gilmore? What are you implying?”

Virginia’s expression tightened. “We all know what Mr. Leybrook is suggesting. He is trying to plant the notion that Mr. Sweetwater had something to do with the deaths of Mrs. Ratford and Mrs. Hackett. That is quite untrue.”

Leybrook turned back to her with an air of grave concern. “Can you be sure of that, Miss Dean? No one seems to know much about Sweetwater, aside from the fact that he evidently feels he has been appointed to pronounce judgment on practitioners such as yourself.”

“I am positive, sir,” Virginia said. She smiled coldly. “As it happens, I viewed the afterimages in the looking glasses at the scenes of the deaths. Both women were, indeed, murdered, but not by Mr. Sweetwater.”

Leybrook and Adriana were transfixed. So was everyone else, Owen thought.

“Are you certain they were murdered?” Leybrook demanded.

“Yes,” Virginia said. “Absolutely certain.”

Owen sensed energy heighten in the atmosphere. Leybrook was unnerved. Adriana had gone pale.

“How, damn it?” Leybrook demanded. “I heard that there were no marks of violence on the bodies. No sign of poison.”

“The spirits,” Adriana whispered. “The rumors are true. The glass-readers summoned deadly entities from the Other Side.”

Leybrook gave her a disgusted look. “Don’t be ridiculous, Adriana.”

“I assure you, no ghosts were involved,” Virginia said. “Just a cold-blooded killer.”

“Did you see his image?” Leybrook pressed. He was very intent, very focused.

“I have explained to you that I cannot see the faces of the killers in the mirrors. But Mr. Sweetwater was with me when I performed the readings. He was able to sense something of the psychical nature of the person who murdered Mrs. Ratford and Mrs. Hackett.”

Leybrook gave Owen a hard look.

“What did you learn about the killer?” Adriana asked uneasily.

“It was clear that the person who murdered Ratford and Hackett took an unnatural and unwholesome thrill of a sexual nature from the acts,” Owen said.

Adriana stared at him, appalled. “Really, Mr. Sweetwater.”

“Really, Miss Walters,” Owen said.

Leybrook’s eyes narrowed. “I fail to see how that observation rules you out as the killer, Sweetwater.”

Virginia smiled benignly. “I can assure you that Mr. Sweetwater’s passions, while strong, are not at all unnatural or unwholesome. Quite the contrary.”

Leybrook shot Owen another scathing look and then glowered at Virginia. “I think you’ve had a little too much champagne, Miss Dean.”

Virginia ignored that. “If Mr. Sweetwater were to commit a lethal act, I am certain that he would not derive a thrill from the business.”

“Certainly not a sexual thrill,” Owen said, gravely polite. “I prefer to get that sort of thing in the normal manner.”

“Well, that certainly put the cat amongst the pigeons,” Charlotte observed. “For heaven’s sake, Virginia, why did you not simply wear a large sign on the back of your gown tonight announcing that you were involved in a romantic liaison with Mr. Sweetwater?”

“I didn’t think the sign would complement my dress,” Virginia said.

Charlotte glared at her. “I am serious.”

“Sorry,” Virginia said. “I could not seem to help myself. It is not as though the rumors about my relationship with Mr. Sweetwater were not already circulating.”

“Rumors of an affair are one thing. An outright declaration is quite another. Until tonight we could always hope that there were at least a few doubts about the nature of your relationship with Mr. Sweetwater. Leybrook looked furious. This could well destroy your career, Virginia.”

“I’ll survive. I do have one thing going for me.”

“What?”

“My talent is genuine.”

They were standing on the crowded front steps of the Institute, waiting for Nick and Owen to return with the carriages. It was nearly midnight. In the glary illumination from the gas lamps that bracketed the entrance, the busy scene looked as if it had been rendered in chiaroscuro, all light and shadow. The street was jammed with carriages and hansoms hoping for fares.

“Your talent may be real, but you know as well as I do that the average client cannot tell the difference between a fraud and the real thing,” Charlotte said. “The reason your business is flourishing is because of your connection to the Institute, not because you can actually read mirrors.”

“I did manage to make a living before I joined the Institute,” Virginia said.