Page 104 of A Whisper and a Curse

“Who is your employer?” the man demanded.

“Mr. Octavius Eldred,” Tilda replied as she worried her hands.

“Why’d you bring her?” The man behind the counter asked almost crossly. “This isn’t the nicest neighborhood.” Again, he studied them in a dubious manner that spiked Tilda’s pulse. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Tilda turned and moved closer to Hadrian. “I can’t imagine you have two hundred pounds to pay him, so I suggest you say we forgot the money.”

“I wouldn’t give him two hundred pounds even if I had it,” he whispered.

Tilda nodded. “Of course.”

Footsteps sounded nearby—Tilda thought the sound may have come from the staircase hall she’d glimpsed through the open doorway. Turning her head, she saw a man walk through the doorway. He strode toward the counter.

Tilda clasped Hadrian’s elbow. “That’s Nicholls. He was Cyril Ward’s butler.”

Nicholls paused at the counter, but Tilda didn’t think he would have heard them. Not that it mattered. Nicholls would likely recognize them. He pivoted and his features registered recognition.

“Lord Ravenhurst?” Nicholls asked. “Miss Wren?”

There went their ruse. “Yes,” Tilda replied evenly. “What are you doing here, Nicholls?”

“I, ah, nothing. Please excuse me.” He continued behind the counter and disappeared in the same direction the shopkeeper had gone.

“Why is he here?” Hadrian asked.

“I don’t know for certain, but we must assume he is informing the other man who we are. Our scheme is no more, I’m afraid.” Tilda walked quickly to the doorway Nicholls had come through and moved into the staircase hall. It was very dim, the only light coming from a window on the landing of the staircase.

She turned to Hadrian. “I want to go upstairs.”

“Shouldn’t we leave?”

“We know blackmail was paid here, and we suspect the society—and likely Mallory—is behind the blackmail. Now we’ve seen one of the retainers here.” She looked up the stairs. “I want to see what is up there.”

“Let’s be quick about it,” Hadrian said.

Tilda went first up the narrow staircase. The landing led to an open sitting room area furnished with a threadbare settee and a collection of mismatched, worn chairs.

Moving through the sitting room, they entered a narrow corridor. On the right, a door stood slightly ajar. Peering inside, Tilda saw a narrow bed and a small dresser. There was no window, and it was rather dreary.

Hadrian stood beside her. “It’s a bedchamber.”

“I hate to ask, but could you touch something?” She stepped over the threshold and to the side so that he could move past her.

Stripping away his right glove, he walked to the bed and touched the coverlet. He turned his head to look at Tilda, his hand still on the bed. “I see someone in this room. It’s Ellen Henry.” He blinked. “That’s all.”

“You wouldn’t be experiencing her memory since you saw her. Whose memory do you think you were seeing?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t able to see the person’s hands or anything else that might help me identify them.”

Tilda looked into a battered wardrobe in the corner. “Men’s clothing. Perhaps this is her brother’s bedroom?”

Hadrian moved toward the wardrobe, but Tilda blocked his path. “I don’t want you to touch too many things, and we’ve still other rooms to investigate.” She turned and left the bedchamber.

Hadrian followed her to the next chamber along the corridor. “We’re supposed to be quick.” He glanced back toward the way they’d come, but no one was there, thankfully.

“We will be,” Tilda said as she knocked softly on the next door.

When there was no response, she pushed the door open. Right away, this appeared to be a woman’s room. A chemise hung over the back of a chair as if it had been drying.