"This is not Whitechapel," I said, answering Jacob.

George dropped his hand. "Pardon?"

"I'm speaking to Jacob."

"It's not exactly Belgrave Square either," Jacob said, referring to the exclusive area where his family kept a house. He jerked his head towards George. "What's your puppy doing here?"

"Protecting me. Aren't you George?"

George puffed out his chest and looked pleased with himself.

"Protecting you?" Jacob snorted and crossed his arms. "From what? The newspapers fluttering down the street? Because that's all he's capable of defending you against." He sounded annoyed. I couldn't think why.

"He's an effective deterrent against a thief thinking of taking advantage of me."

Jacob's nostrils flared. It was the only movement on his otherwise still person. "You're right. A visible deterrent works better than an invisible one."

My heart plunged into my stomach. "That's not what I meant." Stupid girl! It was precisely what I'd meant and now I’d made Jacob feel useless and less...human. "Jacob, I'm sorry."

"Forget it. Come on, knock."

"What's going on?" George asked. "What's he saying?"

"Well, he...uh...he thinks I should have brought some...more protection to walk though these streets. But he seems to be forgetting that this isn't Whitechapel."

Jacob gave me a lazy smile, my slight seemingly forgotten. "If this area is so safe then why do you need to bring him along for protection at all?"

Darn. Foiled by my own logic. "Stop being so...male!"

"Male?" Jacob and George both said.

I lifted a hand and knocked.

Jacob leaned down so that his nose almost touched my cheek. "Well?" he said in a quiet, ominous voice that spread across my skin like warm sunshine.

My face heated. I adore sunshine. "You're being overbearing. It's a very irritating manly habit that...men have." I knocked again. Why wasn't someone answering the door?

"You're such an expert on men, are you?" Jacob asked, straightening. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye but I couldn't determine if he was teasing me or if it was a serious question.

"I know a few. Now, either be quiet so I can concentrate or go away."

"Yes," George said, fiddling with his necktie again. "Let us handle this."

"I'm not leaving you alone in this place," Jacob said. "And I'll not allow you to walk home alone either."

"I am not alone," I muttered although I think George heard me anyway if his wince was any indication.

"You might as well be," Jacob said. He looked skyward as if he'd find some patience there, or some way of convincing me I was being a fool. "Bloody hell, Emily, coming here is dangerous. Do you understand?"

The door opened at that moment and I smiled at the maid in relief. We introduced ourselves and George asked to speak to someone in authority.

"Mr. Blunt the master's gone out," she said, "but Mrs. White'll receive you." She showed us into a room that appeared to be either an office or a drawing room or perhaps acted as both. It had a small, unlit fireplace, a large desk with hard, unpadded chairs on either side of it, a sofa and two armchairs, none of which matched, and a threadbare green rug on the floor. There were no decorative items on the mantelpiece, no paintings on the walls and not even a bookshelf near the desk. On second thought the room couldn't possibly function as an office as there wasn’t a scrap of paper in sight and the inkwell appeared empty. It must be entirely for the use of visitors then.

The maid left, leaving George, Jacob and I in awkward silence. Having a three-way conversation when only one of us can speak to the other two is difficult at best. It's absolutely awful when we're quarrelling. George and I seated ourselves on the sofa, a respectable distance between us, while Jacob remained standing by the door, arms crossed, glaring at me. It was most disconcerting. My face felt hot and a thousand things ran through my mind. Of course I voiced none of them. In fact, I tried not to look at him at all. I failed.

Thankfully Mrs. White didn’t take long to arrive. She wasn't as old as I expected, only a little older than Celia I'd guess, but more homely. Her soft brown eyes crinkled at the corners and a series of lines bracketed her mouth as she smiled at us. Her dark hair, streaked with gray, was pulled into a loose knot and her black gown could have been worn for mourning a loved one or simply because she liked the color. It did suit her although the large bustle at the back didn't flatter her dumpy figure.

"Now, what may I do for you?" she asked after introducing herself.

"I'm George Culvert," George said before I could answer.

Her eyebrows rose. "Mr. Culvert? You took on one of our girls, didn't you?"

He nodded but didn't explain what had happened to Maree Finch. He indicated me. "This is Miss Emily Chambers."

Mrs. White paled. "Chambers? Miss Emily Chambers?"

George's eyes twinkled behind his glasses. "You know her?"

It would seem my reputation as a medium had preceded me. It was happening more and more lately. Over the last month or two, the mere mention of my name was enough to cause strangers to ogle me, or walk quickly in the opposite direction. I suppose it meant Celia and I were garnering a good reputation for our work, which in turn would generate more appointments for our séances. But I couldn't be as happy as her about the increase in our trade, not if it meant more reactions like that of Mrs. White.

"I would say she knows of me, is that right, Mrs. White?" I asked, trying to allay any fears she might have with a warm smile.

Her hand fluttered to her chest and she gave a nervous little laugh. "Forgive me, yes, I have heard of you, Miss Chambers. Indeed, only this morning the master of our little school, Mr. Blunt, was telling me he was going to contact you." She pursed her lips. "He was very insistent."

"Oh? He wishes to communicate with the dead?"

"I believe so but you'd have to discuss the particulars with him." She clicked her tongue and sighed. "I don't know what's got into him. He's never been interested in the supernatural before."

I glanced at Jacob. He grinned. It was breathtaking, quite literally—the air whooshed out of my lungs and my throat went dry. It was rather a relief to see he'd snapped out of his bad temper too.

I smiled back at him.

"The Misses Chambers have an excellent reputation." George smiled too but I suspect not for the same reasons as us. I hadn't told him about Jacob's haunting of Mr. Blunt. "I highly recommend them. Emily really can communicate with spirits."

Jacob snorted and came to stand beside me. "It seems you have an admirer."

"Indeed, she was just speaking to one outside," George went on. He sounded like a proud older brother. It was rather sweet.

Jacob groaned. "If he tells her my name I might have to throw something."

"Thank you, George," I said quickly. "I'm sure Mrs. White isn't interested."

He opened his mouth to say something but must have caught my don't-you-dare expression because he shut it again.

Mrs. White didn’t appear to notice our exchange, or she was too polite to let us think she had. "Your sister left a calling card when she collected Lucy yesterday, you see," she said. I knew the ones. Celia had a habit of leaving them wherever she went so that it acted as a form of advertising. "Mr. Blunt was going to call on you today. I can't think why there's such an urgency." She shrugged.

"Perhaps he's being haunted," George said.

I choked but managed to turn it into a cough. Jacob patted my back and I continued to cough although the need had gone. I simply liked his touch. A lot.

"Are you all right, Emily?" George asked, shifting along the sofa towards me.

Mrs. White stood. "I'll get some water."

I stopped coughing and Jacob stopped patting. "I'm fine, thank you." I refrained from looking at him for about two seconds then couldn't help myself. Unfortunately he had his back to me, striding towards the door. Avoiding me again. He was making quite a habit of it.

Mrs. White sat down. "How is Lucy getting along?"

"Very well," I said. "I think she's a little perturbed to be working in the house of someone who can see ghosts, but she doesn't seem too afraid." She'd got through the night at least, which was more than I could say for one of our previous maids.

"Good, good. And how is Maree?" she asked George.

"Ah," he said. "She is the reason we've come here. She's disappeared—."

"Disappeared!" Mrs. White shook her head. "No, no, no, not Maree. She's such a good girl. We never had any problems with her here."

"She also stole a book from me."

Mrs. White stifled a gasp with her hand. "Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear. Are you sure?"

"Quite sure." George told her about our interview with Maree Finch and the reasons for our suspicions. "The odd thing is," he said in finishing, "is that she can't read. So why steal a book of all things?"

"A very good question," Mrs. White said. She frowned and shook her head slowly. "I simply can't believe Maree would do such a thing. And a book too when she can't read, as you say. What was it about?"

"Demonology," George said before I could deflect the question. I thought it was one we should avoid answering truthfully. I didn't want to alarm the lady.

But Mrs. White didn't seem as disturbed as I thought she would be. I'd expected a vehement denial of Maree's interest in demonology, or a little gasp or some show of distress over the book's subject matter. As it was, she simply paled. It was a considerable paling but nevertheless it wasn't a fierce reaction. "I see. Well, that's an...interesting topic for a young girl."

"Particularly for a young girl who can't read," Jacob said. "It's not the sort of book that will help her learn."

I agreed wholeheartedly. "We think she might have stolen it for someone else," I said.

"For her brother," George added.

"Her brother! You mean Tommy Finch?"

"I suppose we do," he said. "He attended this school for a while, didn't he?"

Mrs. White flicked imaginary fluff off her skirts, her attention on the task and not us. "He was but only briefly and that was some time ago. I don't know why he left. I’m not privileged to everything that occurs with the boy pupils. You'd have to ask Mr. Blunt."

"Has Tommy Finch been back to the school?"

"Certainly not!"

"Right," George said. He cleared his throat. "I think you've told us everything we need to know."

"Don't leave yet," Jacob said. He stood beside George but watched me. "Suggest that Culvert look at another girl to replace Finch."

I wasn't sure what Jacob had in mind but I trusted his judgment. "Then let's move onto the real reason we came here," I said to George with a smile. He gave me a blank look. "A new maid."

He flinched. The hiring of staff so far down the household order probably wasn't something he'd be involved in. That would come under the housekeeper's jurisdiction, or his mother's if the housekeeper wasn't a trusted servant herself. My suggestion that he do it clearly shocked him. "Yes, of course. A new maid."

Bless him, he was going along with the scenario with good grace. I was definitely warming to George. Despite insisting outside that he do most of the talking, he'd not once taken over the conversation. Of course that could have been because Mr. Blunt wasn't there.

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Mrs. White's comfortable features but then she smiled. I suppose it must seem odd, not only that I'd accompanied George to find him a new servant, but also that I was the one keen for him to hire again. Perhaps she assumed he and I were engaged to be married and I was taking an active role in running his household already.

My impish side wondered what Jacob would think of that.

"Suggest he look at some suitable girls with her right now," Jacob said. "Then tell them you wish to remain here because you have a headache."

I did as he said. I was afraid George would protest but his quick glance around the room suggested he knew Jacob was nearby and that we had a plan. George was no fool and he was turning into a wonderful ally.

"An excellent idea," he said, standing. "Shall we, Mrs. White?"

She touched my knee. "Will you be all right, dear? Can I get you some tea while you wait?"

"No, thank you," I said. "I just need some peace and quiet."

"It's best if she's not disturbed for a while," George said. He moved towards the door and before they left, winked at me over his shoulder.

I winked back.

Jacob's face turned dark. He crossed his arms over his chest. "He shouldn't be overly familiar with you. People will think there's something between you."

I waited until the door was closed then I stood and faced him. He turned that dark scowl on me. "He winked at me, Jacob. It's not quite as familiar as coming into my bedroom. For example."

His eyes turned the deep gray of a stormy sky. He took a long time to answer and I had the most disturbing feeling deep in my belly. Like a little flippity, somersaulting.

I suspected—hoped—he was going to kiss me.