Page 39 of A Whisper and a Curse

Tilda also moved so that she stood before the reporter. “Mr. Clement, I do appreciate that your job is to inform the public, however, there is no reason to share details of Lady Ravenhurst’s attendance at a séance. Just say she was there, as was his lordship and I.”

Hadrian frowned at Tilda. Why was she telling the man this?

Clement’s brows rose. “Will you confirm that all three of you were there?”

“Yes,” Tilda replied succinctly.

“Why did you attend a séance?” He glanced toward Hadrian but clearly expected Tilda to answer. And why not, since she was being helpful?

Tilda lifted a shoulder. “Why does anyone? That is all you need to know to interest your readers.”

“You’re an investigator, Miss Wren. Surely there is more you can share regarding these murders.” Clement regarded her eagerly.

“I have not been hired to investigate a murder,” Tilda said, which was technically true. “However, if I do learn of somethingthat I think yourreadersshould know, I will be sure to tell you.” She gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Good day, Mr. Clement.”

The reporter appeared uncertain and perhaps peeved. But he ultimately turned and stalked away.

Hadrian exhaled. “Did you need to confirm anything to that hack writer?”

“He is actually a decent writer,” Tilda said. “And yes, I confirmed something unimportant so he would leave.”

“I don’t think the dowager Countess of Ravenhurst attending a séance for the purposes of speaking to her dead son is ‘unimportant,’” Hadrian grumbled.

“I didn’t say a thing about Gabriel. However, you must prepare yourself that others at the séance may speak to Clement or other reporters. It’s not the worst thing. There are plenty of other women of her status who are involved with the society,” she added gently.

“I suppose that is true.” He pivoted. “Let us speak to my mother about Mrs. Frost. I am glad we arrived when we did so that she didn’t hear the news from the odious Mr. Clement.”

Hadrian opened the door and held it for Tilda. His mother’s butler, Peverell, strode toward the door.

“Come in, my lord. We weren’t expecting you.” The butler hastened to take the door from Hadrian. His mostly bald pate gleamed in the daylight before he closed the door. White hair clung to the sides and back of his head, and his bright-blue eyes surveyed Hadrian and Tilda.

“Allow me to present my associate, Miss Matilda Wren,” Hadrian said, gesturing to Tilda.

“Miss Wren?” Peverell smiled at Tilda. “You are the investigator her ladyship engaged.”

“I am.” Tilda returned his smile. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Peverell looked to Hadrian. “Your mother is working on correspondence. If you go up to the drawing room, I’ll let her know you’ve arrived.”

“Thank you, Peverell.” Hadrian turned to Tilda. “Allow me to escort you.” He offered his arm.

As they ascended the stairs, Tilda glanced at Hadrian. “You are so concerned about people knowing of your mother consulting with a medium and wishing to speak with Gabriel. Why is it that her retainers are aware?”

“My mother’s household is very close—they are like family,” he explained. “Peverell was our butler when I was growing up. When my mother moved out of Ravenhurst House, he accompanied her. She also took the cook, the housekeeper, two footmen, and, of course, her maid.”

Tilda laughed softly. “She left you with a skeleton household.”

“I didn’t begrudge her,” Hadrian said. “Peverell and Mrs. Denimore—the housekeeper—were kind enough to train everyone up.”

Tilda paused as they reached the top of the stairs, her attention focused on a portrait of Hadrian’s father, Hadrian, and Gabriel hanging there. “Is that you?”

“And my father and brother.” Hadrian stood to his father’s right, with Gabriel in front. “I was fifteen when that was painted. Gabriel was ten. It’s one of my mother’s favorites. She likes it here so she can see it every time she uses the stairs.”

“You look very serious,” Tilda said.

“My father wanted us to appear ‘sedate.’ If you only knew how hard it was for Gabriel to do that. He had boundless energy, which my father often found annoying.” Hadrian frowned. He hadn’t thought of that in a very long time. Their father had been difficult, and Hadrian often clashed with him. However, Hadrian was most disgruntled about the way he’d treatedGabriel, as if he truly were a spare and not worth their father’s attention.

“It sounds as though your father may have been cold,” Tilda said softly.