Page 4 of A Whisper and a Curse
She leaned slightly toward him across the table. “Has it occurred to you that this medium may, in fact, be able to help you understand and even manage your power?”
Hadrian blinked at her. “That would require me to believe that she is authentic.”
“I am going to determine that—with your help. Your ability is going to be particularly useful in this investigation.” She smiled at him. Indeed, she looked quite pleased.
“Why are you so giddy?” He knew he sounded grumpy and didn’t care. He did not want his mother’s heart broken again. His philandering father had already done enough damage to her, and the death of her son had driven her into an extended period of mourning.
“This will be fascinating, and I can’t believe you don’t think so. I hope you will change your mind. Unless …” She hesitated a moment. “Would you rather not work with me on this case?”
There was no way he wasn’t going to be at his mother’s side when she inevitably learned this medium was a charlatan. He also could no sooner turn down a chance to work with Tilda again than he could believe this medium spoke with the dead. “I must. If only because it’s apparently required that I attend this séance.”
“It’s more than that,” Tilda said quietly, with a small smile. “I know you care deeply for your mother. I promise I will do everything I can to protect her. I will not allow this to dragon. I shall begin tomorrow morning by seeing what I can learn about Mrs. Deborah Frost. I think I must start with the London Spiritualism Society, which your mother mentioned.”
Hadrian wanted to accompany her. “When you asked if I wanted to work with you on the case, the answer is I do. Not only because I feel as though I need to for my mother’s sake. I enjoy our investigative work and have hoped it may continue whenever you might have need of me.”
Her eyes flashed with something—surprise or happiness. Whatever the emotion, he was delighted to see it. “That’s good to hear. I enjoy our work too. I’d be pleased if you would make these inquiries with me.” Tilda stood but did not move toward the door. Faint swaths of pink appeared on her cheeks. “I am not entirely certain what to wear to the séance. Would the dress I wore to Northumberland House be acceptable?”
During their first investigation, they’d attended an event at Northumberland House, and Hadrian had sent her to a modiste for her outfit. She’d looked absolutely stunning. “That would be too formal for a séance. Do you have a gown that you might wear to a dinner party?”
“Er, no. I am not invited to dinner parties.”
Hadrian had risen with her and now stepped around the table toward her. “Visit the same modiste who dressed you for Northumberland House,” he said. “Include the cost when you bill my mother.”
She shook her head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? I paid for your Northumberland House garments.”
“That was different. You insisted I purchase a gown as an expense of investigating the case. Your mother does not know that I don’t have an appropriate gown.” The pink had faded from her cheeks but now bloomed anew.
“Nor will she,” Hadrian said softly. “But you need the gown to complete the investigation.”
“I should obtain something suitable—for this and future investigations. I will purchase it myself, but not at your modiste.”
Hadrian knew she would not be able to afford that. “I’m sure you’ll find something just right. You look splendid today. I believe that’s a new gown, is it not?” The burgundy wool was most attractive on her.
She smoothed her hand along her skirt briefly. “It is. I felt it important to make a good impression on your mother.”
“You definitely did that—and it wasn’t at all to do with your clothing,” he said earnestly. “Wherever you purchased that gown should have something appropriate for tomorrow evening.”
Tilda nodded. “Thank you. I’ll take care of that first thing tomorrow. We can make our inquiries into the spiritualism society after. Why don’t you fetch me at one?”
He smiled. “I’ll look forward to it. Now, may I walkyoudownstairs?”
She chuckled, her lips lifting in a charming smile. “You may. Just try to stop scowling. I’m not used to you doing that.”
Smoothing his features, he moved toward the door with her. “My apologies. I promise I will be in a better mood tomorrow, once I’ve had time to … think this through.”
He’d been about to say once he’d had time to make sense of things. However, he didn’t think that would be possible. His visions and speaking to the dead made absolutely no sense at all.
CHAPTER 2
Tilda pivoted in front of the mirror, surveying—to the best of her ability—the gown she’d just purchased. As with the last two gowns she’d recently acquired, she’d bought this already made. She’d even gone to the same shop where she’d found the others. And, as with the others, this one had required a bit of alteration. Mrs. Acorn, her grandmother’s housekeeper, had adjusted the first two gowns, but Tilda’s new,temporarymaid, Clara, would take up the hem a half inch and tighten the bodice.
“You’re sure you can finish this by tonight?” Tilda asked the maid, who was just a year younger than Tilda’s twenty-five.
Clara nodded. “I’ll have it finished this afternoon, Miss Wren.”
“You must call me Tilda.”