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She brushed the strands of white from her skirt and straightened when Mr. Wilde exited the room, followed by her aunt. Eleanor’s cheeks were hot when she saw her aunt’s knowing gaze. She’d been caught snooping.
“Lady Eleanor,” said Mr. Wilde. “I imagine I shall be seeing you at your sister’s wedding in a week, shall I not?”
“You will indeed, sir.”
“Excellent. I look forward to it. It’s always a pleasure to see young love reach fruition.” He smiled broadly and Eleanor could not help but return the smile.
Aunt Sarah could not have chosen a better man really. With intense blue eyes, a full head of white hair, and a strong jaw for his age, he had an infectious smile and a manner that endeared even the most stone-hearted toward him. And, of course, he adored cats.
“I’ll see you at the wedding, Sarah.” His gaze lingered over her aunt, the light in his eyes dulling slightly before he left.
Eleanor scowled and looked to her aunt whose expression offered a similar haunted look. “What is the matter with Mr. Wilde?”
Aunt Sarah sighed. “Not a thing.”
“What of you?”
“What of me?” she said brightly.
“What is wrong with you?” Eleanor demanded, following her aunt down the corridor toward the music room.
“Why would there by something wrong with me?” Her aunt didn’t stop to look at her, even as she sat in front of the piano and pressed fingers to the keys.
Eleanor winced. Aunt Sarah was a notoriously bad musician so there had to be something terribly wrong for her to wish to play music.
“Aunt Sarah?” she said over the noise that could scarcely be counted as music. “Aunt Sarah!” Eleanor repeated, propping a hand firmly upon the piano lid and placing herself in her aunt’s eyeline as much as she could.
Her fingers stilled on the keys, and she met Eleanor’s gaze. “It is not something you should concern yourself with, Eleanor.”
“If you are upset then it concerns me.”
“Do you not have this saboteur to find?”
“I have an address for Miss Lawson, though it took some persuasion to gain it from the seamstress, and I visited but no one was there.”
“Are you certain it is her?”
“She has red hair, a dislike of our investigative society and these events occurred in line with her return to London.” Eleanor gestured widely. “Who else would it be?”
“We should pay her another visit.”
“Yes, I’ll try again tomorrow but I have ensured it is known that we are aware of her presence in London. Now nothing else has occurred and Demeter insists that we should not confront her, and it all could be a misunderstanding.”
“Demeter is too kind.”
“She is,” Eleanor agreed, but she could not deny that nothing else had occurred and perhaps Demeter was right. “Anyway, cease changing the subject.” Eleanor motioned for her aunt to move over and perched on the piano bench next to her. “A visit from Mr. Wilde usually has you in the best of spirits.”
Aunt Sarah eyed the piano keys, absently smoothing a finger upon one of the ivories. “He is a most excellent man.”
“He is.”
Her aunt met her gaze, her pale eyes slightly watery. “But Simon hates him.”
“Simon?”
“Do you not see? If Simon will not give his blessing, it is impossible.”
Eleanor closed her eyes briefly. The fact Aunt Sarah thought the cat was her late husband returned to her would not help matters at all. “What did the cat do?”
