Page 118 of A Whisper and a Curse

Hadrian, Tilda, and Mallory moved away toward the captain’s bedchamber, but they stopped short of going inside.

Tilda looked to Mallory. “What about all the people you employ in the society? Such as the Henry siblings?”

“I would offer to write them a recommendation, but I doubt that would help them.” Mallory grimaced.

“I will help them find work,” Hadrian said. He flashed a smile at Tilda. “It’s what we do following a case. In fact, Tilda’shousehold keeps increasing. Surely you could use a groom and perhaps an upstairs maid?”

“No!” Tilda shook her head, but a smile teased her lips briefly before she quashed it. “Absolutely not. I can barely afford the people I’ve taken on recently, nor do I have need of them. But yes, we can endeavor to help them.” She looked back to Mallory. “Why did they all live in Bedfordbury instead of at the other properties?”

“It’s a bit complicated,” Mallory said, raking his hand through his blond hair. “I came to London with a friend.”

“Roger Grenville,” Hadrian interjected.

Mallory’s eyes glinted with surprised. “You know him?”

“We traveled to Swindon a few days ago and met him,” Tilda said.

“Ah.” Mallory glanced toward the bedchamber. “My father told me you called at his house, but I didn’t realize you met Grenville as well. He will likely be glad to see that I have fallen.”

“He did not support your plans for the society,” Hadrian said tersely.

“No, he did not. We came to London and took lodging in Bedfordbury. That was where we met Mr. and Mrs. Timms, and I came up with the idea for the hollow pedestals that they could fit inside and move the tables during séances.”

Hadrian met Tilda’s gaze. “We were right.”

“You sorted that out?” Mallory asked. “Of course you did. I then found someone to build the tables.”

“Clifton,” Tilda supplied.

“Damn, you are thorough,” he said with obvious admiration. “I went to my father for money to pay for that first table and to obtain an impressive headquarters in order to attract the clientele that would allow us to be successful.”

“You couldn’t very well prey on the Duchess of Chester and others like her from your lodgings in Bedfordbury.” Hadrian didn’t hide his derision.

“No, we could not,” he said ruefully. “I am sorry for what I’ve done, Ravenhurst. Not that I expect you to forgive me.”

“It is not my place to do so,” Hadrian said. “You must accept what you’ve done and find a path forward. My sentiment matters not at all.”

“Would you mind confirming a few things for me?” Tilda asked. “I think I’ve worked out how you managed all the aspects of the séances, but I’m not certain about the cool breeze that typically accompanies the arrival of the spirits. Am I right in thinking someone uses a bellows to blow air through a vent?”

“Exactly.” Mallory nodded with approval. “You are most clever, Miss Wren. It’s a shame I didn’t meet you sooner and employ you for your investigative skills. They could have been most helpful.”

“She would never have accepted such a position,” Hadrian said flatly.

Tilda sent Hadrian a faint smile before responding to Mallory. “I confess we did wonder whether you may employ an investigator to learn about your clients and patrons, but once we discovered your ability to see memories, it was apparent you would not need to do that.” Tilda paused as she cocked her head. “What of smells? Mrs. Langdon said she could detect her father’s scent when he supposedly visited her séance.”

“Another trick,” Mallory replied sheepishly. “Someone found out what her father’s scent had been, and we blew that into the room with the bellows as well.”

Tilda nodded vaguely. “My last question involves the spirts who were conjured. You—as Montrose—said that John Tabor was your grandfather. Is that true?”

Mallory shook his head. “No. John Tabor was pure fabrication.”

“And Mrs. Kelson who attended the séance last night did not actually channel Mrs. Frost,” Tilda noted. “Was she an actor?”

“Yes, we do employ them from time to time as the need arises.”

“Everything you did in the name of society was pure theatre,” Hadrian said with disdain. “Your father thinks you would be a good playwright. Perhaps you should use your time in prison to direct your theatrical senses toward a better purpose.”

“I may do that,” Mallory said softly.