Page 3 of A Whisper and a Curse

Hadrian watched Tilda closely. She missed her father greatly, despite not speaking of him much. Hadrian believed it was too painful for her, though he’d been gone for at least a decade.

“He wasn’t yet a sergeant,” Tilda said. “At least, not officially. He’d received the promotion, but on his last night as a constable, he was killed.” She spoke with barely any emotion, her posture stiff and straight.

The dowager countess sucked in a soft breath. “Gracious, how awful. I’m so sorry. When was that?”

“Just over ten years ago.” Tilda lifted her cup for another sip of tea and moved her gaze to the table.

Hadrian understood that she didn’t wish to continue that line of conversation. Before he could redirect the topic, his mother asked, “Is your mother still with you?”

“No.” Tilda blinked, then gave her head a slight shake. “She is still living, if that is what you meant. She remarried several years ago and resides in Birmingham. I live with my grandmother and manage her household.”

“I suppose that explains why you are not married,” Hadrian’s mother said. “That’s a shame, for you are clearly intelligent and well-mannered—and you’re pretty. That gown is far more attractive than what you were wearing when last we met. I suggest you dress more like this to increase your chances of gaining a husband.” She spoke warmly and kindly, but Hadrian noted the tension in Tilda’s jaw.

“Thank you for the advice,” Tilda said, masking her impatience. But Hadrian knew it was there. She did not want a husband, and the idea of her choosing a wardrobe to snare one was ludicrous.

There was also the fact that Tilda’s financial situation did not permit a constantly current wardrobe. She did not renew her clothing each Season as Hadrian’s mother, sisters, and their entire class did.

Because Tilda was not from the same class.

Hadrian hadn’t really thought of their economic differences in such a stark manner, and he probably should have. He hadthe sense that Tilda was aware of her outdated wardrobe but that she had no quarrel with it. She had taken her grandmother’s advice, that Tilda would attract clients if she appeared well-dressed, and recently purchased a new gown. It wasn’t that Tilda’s old clothes were poor, just that they gave one the idea that she could not afford anything new. Which had been the truth. However, with the funds earned from her recent investigations, she’d been able to refresh her wardrobe, which reflected her success as a private investigator. She also looked beautiful.

But then, Hadrian was hopelessly attracted to her. Especially since they’d shared a kiss a few weeks ago. However, she’d informed him that he’d overstepped. Which he’d only done after thinking she wanted him to. They’d miscommunicated, and she’d apologized for her part in that whilst he’d apologized for not seeking her consent explicitly.

It had all been very awkward. He had spent much of the last three weeks wondering how things were between them. Then his mother had decided to engage Tilda’s services, and now they would be working together again. At least, he hoped so. He very much wanted to continue as her investigate partner. He also hoped they were still friends.

Hadrian’s mother finished her tea, then gave Tilda Mrs. Langdon’s direction. “Thank you again, Miss Wren.” She looked to Hadrian. “You’ll pick me up tomorrow evening?”

“Of course.”

“Try to keep your mind open to this, Hadrian. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to speak with Gabriel?”

“I don’t understand why you want to,” Hadrian replied, worried that he sounded cold. He couldn’t help it. This entire scheme was doomed to fail and disappoint his mother.

“He died alone so far away, Hadrian. We hadn’t seen him in over a year. We will never see him again.” Her features softenedand paled faintly. “Why wouldn’t I want to tell him how much he is loved, just one last time?”

Hadrian’s throat tightened, and emotion gathered in his chest. “Gabriel knew he was loved.” At least by his mother and siblings. “And he wasn’t alone. He had Nisha.” His fiancée.

“He wasn’t with his family.” His mother’s gaze shuttered. “I should think you would understand my need for comfort. Perhaps not.” She stood and turned to Tilda. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Wren.”

Hadrian launched to his feet and started to follow his mother on her way to the door. Tilda put her hand up and shook her head at him.

When the dowager countess was gone, he exhaled. “Why didn’t you want me to accompany her downstairs?”

“Becauseshedidn’t want you to,” Tilda replied from her chair, where she’d remained seated.

Hadrian sat down heavily in his chair, his lips twisting briefly into a scowl. “She’s going to be disappointed.”

Tilda arched a brow at him. “Why?”

“You don’t actually believe this medium is speaking to the dead?” He stared at her.

“I don’t believe anything yet,” she said with a shrug. “I am keeping an open mind, as your mother bade, and as my own experience with you and your visions urges me to do. Furthermore, I am an investigator, and I must seek evidence before I come to a conclusion—without bias.” She pinned him with an expectant stare. “What I find perplexing is how you, after all you’ve seen and experienced these past few months, can be so adamant that this mediumcan’tspeak to the dead.”

A full scowl stole over Hadrian’s face, and he didn’t bother masking it. “I am not a medium, nor do I communicate with the dead.” Except he had, in a manner of speaking. He’d touched objects that had been handled by a deceased person, and he’dseen their memories. It was far more rare than seeing those of people still living, but ithadhappened. Still, it wasn’t the same as talkingtothem.

“Aren’t you splitting hairs?” she asked wryly. “You can’t explain your ability. Isn’t it reasonable to believe that other similar abilities exist, such as speaking to the dead?”

“None of this is reasonable,” he said crossly. “Especially my ability.”