“Concordia, that was beyond reckless,” David whispered fiercely.
He had pulled her into the arbor just outside Sycamore House after the planchette session, in order to talk with her privately. A private tongue-lashing was more like it.
Concordia balled her hands into fists. “I had to try it.”
The results had been disappointing. There was such a commotion when the planchette sailed off the table that she’d had no opportunity to observe Mr. Rosen’s reaction to her question, or that of anyone else for that matter. When she’d turned back around, the reporter was gone.
She sighed.
He grabbed her shoulders. “You said your father’s letter called Red his enemy and yours. If Red is here tonight, you have tipped your hand. He now knows that you are aware of his existence. You could be in danger
