Shrouded In Thought (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 2) by N. S. Wikarski Page A

“Sometimes. And sometimes I am asked to perform readings.”
    “ Readings ?” Freddie was bemused. “From what books?”
    His friend elucidated. “Not those kinds of readings, Freddie. Spiritual readings.”
    “From the Bible?”
    Evangeline was all ice and patience in her explanation. “No, clairvoyant readings.”
    Serafina nodded. “Yes, and sometimes I will perform what you call a séance if my guides are with me.”
    “Why, if you need a guide to find your way around the city, I’d be happy to offer my services.”
    By this time Evangeline was sending a volley of killing glances in the young man’s direction. “I would assume she means spiritual guides, Freddie.”
    Serafina laughed—the sound of tiny bells. “I sometimes forget that these words they can mean so many things. This is especially so to people not acquainted with the unseen world.”
    “Yes, I would appear to be learning a whole new vocabulary.” Freddie smiled ruefully. “And I thought I already knew how to speak English.”
    “There are those who would debate the point,” Evangeline muttered under her breath.
    Her enthusiasm unbroken by the undertow, Euphemia jumped in. “I’m hoping that Serafina’s schedule will allow her to spend some time as our guest and perhaps even give us a glimpse into the realm beyond.”
    Serafina inclined her head modestly. “Mrs. Allworthy, you are too kind. I have been pressed by many gracious invitations from the ladies in your city. I have many times over rearranged my speaking tour to accommodate them. I must soon leave for engagements in San Francisco and will not return this way until the end of June. I cannot stay with you now but after that perhaps. I will see what I can do.”
    “Oh, that would be lovely if you could!” Euphemia exclaimed. “The end of June would be only too perfect. By then the country villa will be complete. Engie, you must come, and so must Mr. Simpson. We could arrange a séance one evening. What a delightful experience it would be.”
    “I’ll admit the idea does intrigue me,” Evangeline said.
    Freddie looked at her face to see if she was joking. She wasn’t.
    Roland chose that moment to rise to his feet, glass in hand. “A toast, ladies and gentleman.” Everyone turned to look at him expectantly. “To the lovely Miss Minerva.”
    The lovely Miss Minerva appeared to be mortified by the attention and was hiding behind her fan. Her mother intervened. “Really, Roland, that isn’t necessary.”
    “Oh, reason not the need!” he declaimed grandly. “It is entirely right and fitting that a young lady should be toasted by her greatest admirer.”
    The words stirred a faint memory in Freddie’s consciousness.
    Bessie threw up her hands in dismay and allowed her daughter to be toasted as a celebrated beauty. The guests all managed to get through the ritual with solemn faces, except for Roland, who appeared to be ogling Miss Minerva over the rim of his wine glass.
    In an attempt to salvage the moment, Martin rose and somewhat less grandly offered a salute of his own. “And I would like to propose a toast to my good friend, Otto Waxman.”
    The old man beamed with pleasure.
    Martin continued. “About a month ago he did me the kindness of hiring my nephew here in order to teach him the real estate business.” The words were met with a sincere round of applause. Desmond pounded his hand repeatedly on the tabletop with great gusto. In a somewhat softer voice, Martin added, “It seems the electroplate industry didn’t suit Roland’s temperament.”
    The nephew, undisturbed by the veiled reprimand, raised his glass again. “To a most successful business venture!”
    “Success!” his listeners affirmed as they drank a round.
    Freddie, who had been watching Desmond all evening from the corner of his eye, noticed that Garrison was having some difficulty keeping Bayne’s wine glass filled as frequently as the fellow seemed to require it.
    Not to be outdone by the