Page 103 of A Whisper and a Curse

“Should we pretend we are paying blackmail?” Hadrian suggested.

“I thought of that, but I have to think they know who they are extorting.”

Hadrian sat straight, his eyes flashing with inspiration. “Eldred didn’t pay—I could pretend to be him.”

Tilda laughed. “I don’t think anyone would mistake you for him. We could, however, pretend to be his agents.”

Hadrian grinned. “You are very clever indeed.”

They arrived in Bedfordbury a few minutes later. The street was in terrible shape, though not as bad as Flower and Dean Street, which Tilda and Hadrian had visited during their last investigation. The coach stopped near the grocer.

“I have my pistol,” Tilda said, lifting her reticule.

“And I have mine.” Hadrian smoothed his hand over the side of his coat. “I hope we won’t need them.”

“I can’t believe we will, particularly in broad daylight.” Tilda stepped out of the coach with Leach’s assistance.

Hadrian followed and addressed his coachman. “Keep a close watch. I would make sure the pistol beneath the seat is well within reach.”

“Always, my lord,” Leach said with a nod.

Tilda turned to Hadrian. “We must appear nervous and worried. Try to lose your earl swagger.”

Leach chuckled, and Hadrian smirked.

“I don’t swagger, do I?” Hadrian asked. “Leach, stop laughing.”

“You walk like an earl, my lord.” Leach composed himself.

“Shall I drag my feet?” Hadrian demonstrated a rather lead-footed walk.

“Just dip your head a bit and perhaps stoop a little,” Tilda suggested. “Whatever you can do to make yourself look less … impressive.”

Hadrian curled his shoulders forward. “Like that?”

“Perfect.” Tilda looked down at her gown. “I should have worn something from my old wardrobe. Ah well, here we are.”

She took Hadrian’s arm, and they walked to the grocer. It was called Timms and Baker, and the upper floors appeared to be dwellings. A couple of windows were open, and thin curtains blew in the breeze.

Hadrian held the door for Tilda as she preceded him inside. The shop was decently stocked, and the floor was cleanly swept.

An open doorway in the center of the right wall seemed to lead into a vestibule of some kind. Tilda peered inside and saw a staircase.

Voices carried from the back of the shop. Tilda and Hadrian exchanged looks before walking in that direction. They couldn’t see anyone over the counter.

The sound of a door with a squeaky hinge closing in a room beyond the counter made Tilda think whoever had been there had just gone.

“Is anyone there?” Hadrian’s tone was soft and uncertain.

Tilda would congratulate his efforts later.

“Do you need something?” The response came from behind the counter, just before a head popped up over the top. The man must have been bent down, which was why he hadn’t been seen. And now that he was upright, he wasn’t much taller than the counter.

Tilda assumed this was Mr. Timms, whom Joslin had described as very short. “Good afternoon.”

The man scrutinized them both, his blue eyes narrowing briefly. “How may I help you?”

“I’m afraid we’re here about a delicate matter,” Hadrian said. He looked around nervously, behaving exactly as Tilda had instructed. “Our employer received a letter, and we are delivering something on his behalf. Do you know what I am speaking of?”