"This isn't one of your books, Sarah, it's real life, and we don't have the time to play private detectives." I knocked on the door, taking a deep breath to calm my suddenly twitchy nerves.
"Yes? What is it?" The door opened, Milo's wife visible as she frowned out from the depths of the entrance. For a moment, I thought I saw a flash of surprise in her eyes, and I was overcome with a sense of similarity, a déjà vu that sent a skitter of goose bumps up my arms.
"Hello. You probably don't remember me, but my name is Portia Harding. My friend Sarah and I were at the ghost-hunting event last night."
She didn't so much as bat an eyelash. "Yes?"
I trotted out my friendliest smile. "I wondered if we could have a word with your husband?"
"Milo?" She frowned, giving us a look that expressed all sorts of suspicions. "I suppose so."
"Thank you—" I started to walk to through the door, jumping back when she closed it literally in my face. "Well, damn!"
"She isn't the friendliest person in the world," Sarah said behind me. "Wouldn't chat at all during our time at the mill. Mr. Richings told me he thought she was just shy, and that she'd probably loosen up once she started making regular runs with the group."
"Shy isn't quite the word I'd use to describe her," I said, rubbing my nose where it had bumped into the door. I turned back to Sarah, puzzled by something she'd said. "Once she started—"
"Hello, ladies! What a pleasure it is to see you both again, although a bit unexpected." Milo smiled at us, shaking our hands. "To what do I owe this honor?"
"You'll have to forgive us for stopping by without calling first, but to be honest, I wasn't sure if you would see us, and I really would appreciate the chance to talk."
"Of course," he said, stepping back and gesturing toward the door. "Please, come in and make yourself at home. Would you like a coffee?"
"Coffee would be lovely, thank you."
He escorted us down a dimly lit hallway to a small room that was clean, but had an unused feel to it, as if it was the room saved solely for company. "I'll just tell the wife that we've got visitors," Milo said, making a quick escape.
"Quaint," Sarah pronounced after making a cursory examination of the room. "Very English. Do you think Milo knows that we know who he is?"
"I'm not sure. He's a difficult man to make out." I sat in a flowery gold and scarlet chair, making a mental list of things I wished to ascertain.
"Oh, I don't know, he seems pretty straightforward to me." She shot me a quick glance. "With the exception of the obvious, that is. You know I don't like to make snap judgments, but I'm not sure I like his wife. What did you say her name was?"
"Carol. Sarah, does she remind you of anyone?"
"Milo's wife?"
I nodded, trying to pinpoint what it was about her that seemed so familiar.
"No. Unless you're talking about someone back home, and then I'd have to say Janice Del Rio. She used to come in and clean for me when the twins were little, remember? I caught her one day trying on my best dress."
"That's not it. I can't quite put my finger on it, but she reminds me of someone. I just can't think of who."
"Whom." Sarah went to the window to look out. "Do you want me to ask him about Hope?"
"No. I can ask my own questions."
"Portia, honey," Sarah turned, her hands spread wide. "You know I love you like a sister, but if you have a failing, it's that you're invariably blunt when you want information."
I lifted my chin and looked down my nose at her. "I am not blunt. I'm straightforward. The difference between which you are clearly unable to appreciate."
"Call it what you will, it seems to me that this situation is going to need careful handling. Since I am the soul of tact and subtlety, why don't you let me handle it?"
"I would be insulted except there's not time for me to argue with you. Suffice it to say, I will be the personification of the word subtle. All right?"
She sighed, and looked out the window again. Silence filled the room, no sound at all penetrating from the rest of the house.
My mind, normally organized and orderly, squirreled around, randomly hopping from thought to thought, giving me an uncomfortable, unsettled sort of feeling. But behind all that, there was a nagging sense of having missed something again, something important that, if only I could concentrate, I could see. It was at the tip of my awareness, just beyond my focus…
"Here we are, then." The door opened for Milo, bearing a small red plastic tray adorned with coffee mugs, a milk jug, sugar bowl, and small yellow bowl filled with the tea cookies so beloved by the English. "Sorry for the wait. How do you take yours?"
"Black is fine, thanks." I took a mug from him, and waved away the offer of a cookie. "I apologize again for barging in like this, but I'm in a bit of a bind, and I was hoping you could help me."
"Certainly," he said, offering Sarah a cookie. His eyes were the same smiling brown eyes of the man who'd amused me the night before, but I was wise to his ways now. "Anything I can do to help."
"We're looking for a virtue named Hope, and I was told by someone in the Court of Divine Blood that you knew her."
"Oh yes, that's subtle," Sarah murmured.
We both ignored her.
"Hope?" Milo asked, his eyes mirroring the surprise on his face. "The Court?"
"Look, I know you used to be an archon there, and were later kicked out, only to have the charges against you dropped," I said, setting down my mug. "So, although I appreciate the fact that you don't like a couple of relative strangers poking around in your past, you don't have to pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I've seen the Akashic Record."
Milo slumped back in his chair, one hand rubbing over his face before he opened his eyes and gave me a short nod. "It seems I don't have a choice. If you've seen the Record—but what was it you wanted from me?"
"Let's start with, why didn't you tell me you were a trial proctor last night, when you conducted the fourth trial?"
"It's a bit complicated," he answered, his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward toward me. "I'm going to tell you the truth because you're a nice person, and I quite like you. It's true I concealed my position with the Court from you. I didn't want to, but I was told by someone high up in the Court that if I didn't, I'd lose my job."
"Someone didn't want me to know that I was undergoing the fourth trial?" I frowned when he nodded. "That doesn't make any sense. All the other proctors have announced who they were, and that a trial was about to start. Why wouldn't someone want me to know I was doing the fourth one?"
Milo stared down into his coffee, his thumb rubbing along the thick edge of the mug. "I wish I could tell you, Portia, I really wish I could. But I have my wife to think of. I've been banned from the Court before—I can't risk that again. All I can say is that someone doesn't want you to succeed as a virtue."
"Who?" Sarah asked.
"I can't tell you that," he said, giving her an apologetic smile.
"Well, can you narrow it down somewhat?" she asked. "Can't you give us some clue about who this secret enemy is? Surely Portia deserves that much consideration."
I sent Sarah a look of gratitude.
"Of course she does," Milo answered, rubbing his chin as he continued to gaze into his coffee. "I suppose it wouldn't be breaking any confidences if I was to tell you the person who wishes you ill is someone you've met here in England."
"Hmm. Someone I've met. Let's see, the first person who has Court ties whom I met is Theo."
Milo gave me a long look.
"There was Mystic Bettina," Sarah said, her eyes narrowed in thought. "And Milo and Carol, but obviously you're excluded from the list of suspects."