Madison twisted her hands in her shawl and fixed her eyes on the two-story, red-bricked house with wide, long windows on each floor. Smaller windows lined the attic, and several tall chimneys jutted from the coffee colored roof. All in all, the house appeared lovely, and very welcoming. The cobblestone drive wound around a small brick wall that housed two manicured trees.

Several carriages and a few saddled horses rested along the dead man's drive. Frowning, she peered at Cameron. "I suppose the place isn't empty, as you had suspected."

"Looks that way. I'm sure these are mourners who have come to pay their respects."

"Yes, I'm sure of it."

He stopped their buggy and set the brake. "I think I should take off this disguise. I'm certain they will be able to realize that up close, I'm really not that old."

"Yes, I believe you're right." He removed his wig and she swiped the powder still dusting his eyebrows. When she dropped her gaze to his clothes, she frowned. "However, I pray they don't wonder about your outdated clothes."

He shrugged. "Let them judge. I doubt I will ever see them again after today."

Cameron jumped down. When he reached his hand up to help her, she hesitantly glanced at the house again. "Do you think they will mind if we arrive unexpectedly?"

"Not if we tell them that we have come to pay our respects, as well."

Slipping her hand into his, she nodded.

His heated gaze held hers as he slowly lifted her from the carriage. Her body shivered with elation. Even now, she couldn't breathe properly. His kiss had taken her to Heaven and back. In a way, she wished the horse hadn't disturbed their very passionate moment. Then again, she did need to think about this new direction with their relationship. Was it wise to have her heart soften toward him? If she couldn't find his sister, Rosie, he might never forgive her.

Once her feet touched the ground, she tried to pull her hand away, but he hooked it over his arm as he escorted her up the porch to the front door. Her insides jumped, but Cameron appeared calm and in control. She clutched the edges of her shawl around her shoulders, nervous about going inside.

Would she see something that would be helpful? She couldn't bear it if Cameron lost faith in her since her visions hadn't really told them anything about Rosie's location.

He rapped his knuckles three times on the door, and then patted her fingers still resting on his arm. "Let me do the talking." He gave her a wink. "All I want you to do is touch...and pray you get a vision."

The door opened by a servant wearing black. The older man's white hair nearly matched the color of his skin. He dabbed a handkerchief to the corners of his red, swollen eyes before straightening his shoulders and meeting Cameron's gaze.

"Forgive us for coming unannounced," Cameron began, "I'm Mr. Westland and this is Miss Haywood. We knew Mr. Bailey, and we came to pay our respects to his family."

The servant scrunched his brow and leaned an ear closer. "Pardon, sir?"

Cameron repeated it, louder this time.

The servant nodded and opened the door wider. Cameron motioned for her to enter first. As she stepped into the room, she wanted to touch the doorknob, but the servant still had his hand around the knob. As she moved her attention into the small hall, she noticed the room on the left first. This particular room didn't seem to have a door but nobody occupied it. A pianoforte sat near the window, and two large sofas decorated in gold and daffodil colored stripes, along with two brown leather chairs, were placed nearby.

The room on the right was where the servant led them. Voices sounded on the other side of the door. As she walked by a vase of flowers sitting on a table against the wall, she brushed her fingers along the object, hoping to get a vision. Nothing. A large grandfather clock stood against another wall, but she'd have to go out of her way in order to touch that piece of furniture, and that would appear too suspicious.

The servant stepped into the room first. The chatting quieted as all eyes peered his way. He straightened his shoulders. "Mr. Westland and Miss Haywood are here to give their condolences." His voice boomed through the room.

All eyes in the room grew wide. Three men in the room stood and faced them, all appeared to be different ages. Cameron took the lead this time and moved toward them.

"Forgive us for dropping in unannounced, but we had to come tell you how sorry we are for your loss."

Cameron's voice shook a little at the end. Curiously, she studied him. He was either still feeling guilty about Mr. Bailey's death...or he was a very good performer. Or, he must be still holding onto his guilt.

"You were friends with Jacob?" The youngest man out of the three directed his question to Cameron, eying him from the top of his head, down to his scruffy boots.

"Yes." Cameron's expression did not waver. Madison didn't know if she could do the same, since she'd never met the man. Then again, the question was not asked to her.

"I have seen you before. Are you not an inspector with the Metropolitan Police?"

"Indeed, I am, but I'm not on duty."

"Has there been any word on who killed him?" the man asked again, but with a sharp edge to his voice.

"I'm sorry, but no. His death is still being investigated."

The younger man threw Cameron a glare. "That means you have no leads." The volume of his voice increased. "How hard can it be to find his murderer?" He whipped around, marching toward the hearth.

The oldest man out of the three appeared to be middle-aged, even though his once-brown hair was dull with streaks of silver taking over. He leaned heavily on his walking stick as he stared at the younger man. "Simmer your temper, Gaynor. The inspector said they are looking into this matter, and we must have faith someone will be caught and imprisoned."

The younger man grumbled as he grabbed the poker and jabbed at the fire blazing in the hearth.

Madison sucked in a quick breath. Gaynor? What were the odds this was the Gaynor Rosie had mentioned in her vision? She waited for some kind of sign from Cameron that he recognized the name, but none came. His expression stayed the same—pleasant, yet sympathetic.

The middle-aged man stepped closer to Cameron. "It does our heart good to know that Jacob has friends who would come. I pray the police will find something very soon."

"As do I." Cameron nodded.

"I'm Jacob Bailey's uncle, Lord Hanover." He motioned to the man standing closer. "This is another nephew, Heath Langston, and Gaynor Brailsford is the one by the fireplace, and he is my nephew as well."

He bowed to the other men. "It's nice to meet you. May I introduce Miss Haywood? She was also an acquaintance of Mr. Bailey."

She waited for them to make the first move to shake her hand, and it irritated her when none of them did. They just gave her a polite nod. Inwardly, she boiled. How could she get any kind of vision if she couldn't touch them? Especially, Gaynor Brailsford.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss," she said. Hesitating, she waited for someone to say something. Anything. But nobody did. Lord Hanover didn't even introduce them to the other ladies in the room. Cameron had told her to let him do the talking, but this time, she just couldn't. "If there is anything I can do for you," she paused, sweeping her gaze around the room, "please let me know."

Everyone nodded, but still nothing was said. Her irritation grew another notch. What could she do to get them to speak? She studied each one closely, especially Gaynor Brailsford. He must be in his early twenties. He was slender, and his head was larger than normal. Short, chestnut hair stood in disarray on his head as if he'd just finished scrubbing his fingers through the matted mop. He also sported a disheveled goatee.

He wasn't handsome, at least not to her, but some young women might find him attractive. If by chance, this was the Gaynor they were looking for, and he had something to do with Rosie's disappearance, wouldn't he act guilty in some way? And yet the man stood by the fireplace, and eyed them briefly.

"I thank you, Miss Haywood," Lord Hanover finally said, "but you don't need to worry. We are handling things on our own."

One of the ladies in the room rose from her cushioned chair and moved to the tray holding a teapot and two cups. The middle-aged woman's eyes were also a red and her insincere smile shook as she took hold of the tray. "Forgive me for not being an attentive hostess, but can I offer you some tea?"

Immediately, Gaynor dashed toward the woman and pushed the tray away from Madison. His fiery glare pierced right through them both.

"Mother, they won't be staying long," he snapped. A dribble of spit flew from his mouth and rested on his hairy chin. "There's no need for tea."

Shock rattled Madison as she stared agape at the rude man. Cameron exchanged a surprised gaze with Madison. The older woman's face paled, making her blonde hair appear whiter. She dropped her attention to the floor. Madison was quite embarrassed for the woman because her son acted in such a horrid way.

"I'm s-s-so sorry." The woman's hands shook and the tray teetered toward the floor.

Madison reached for the dishes to keep them from hitting the ground. She caught the tray, but the cups rolled to the edge. Cameron's quick response caught the porcelain cups before they tossed to the floor. Once Madison had a firm hold on the tray, she concentrated on trying to get a vision, but nothing came.

"Pardon me, Miss." The elderly servant joined those who juggled the dishes. "Let me take that."

Although Madison wanted to argue, there was no reason for her to keep hold of the object without looking suspicious. She had no choice but to release it as the servant took the tray and dishes. She looked into Cameron's eyes as hopelessness swept over her. Would she be able to help him at all?