Page 52 of A Whisper and a Curse

“I am Miss Matilda Wren.” Tilda took the woman’s hand, which was encased in a knit glove. Except Tilda felt the warmthof Miss Sullivan’s bare palm against hers. Dropping her gaze to their clasped hands, Tilda removed her hand and looked at the woman’s exposed palm.

Miss Sullivan chuckled, a deep, rich sound. “I prefer to keep my hands covered, but touching with bare skin is necessary for the energy of the séance. I knit my own gloves for these occasions.” She clasped her hands together in front of her waist.

Tilda wished she could see the woman’s face. She possessed a charming demeanor. “Ingenious. I’m afraid I’ve no talent for such endeavors.”

“I’m sure you have plenty of other talents,” Miss Sullivan assured her. “What brings you to the séance this evening?”

“We attended one the other night with Mrs. Frost,” Hadrian replied.

Miss Sullivan tipped her head toward Hadrian. “My apologies. I did not introduce myself to you. An oversight, for I’m afraid I already know who you are, Lord Ravenhurst. Mr. Hawkins told me you would be here tonight, and I deduced you must be the esteemed earl.”

“What brought you to that conclusion?” Tilda asked.

“Just look at him, my dear. If this man isn’t an earl, I will eat my veil.” She emitted another low, husky laugh.

“It is difficult to argue with that,” Tilda said, flashing a smile toward Hadrian, who did not seem amused.

“I do apologize, my lord,” Miss Sullivan went on. “It was rather gauche of me to ignore you. At my age, I find I prefer the company of like-minded people, which are primarily those of the gentler sex. To be perfectly honest, Mr. Hawkins told me your companion is a private investigator, and I ammostintrigued by that. Are you truly investigating the murders of Mrs. Frost and Mr. Ward?”

“I am,” Tilda replied.

“She has solved several murders, in fact,” Hadrian told the older woman.

Miss Sullivan gasped. “Goodness. That is astonishing. Are you close to finding the killer?”

“That is difficult to say.” Tilda edged closer to the woman. “Since you’ve attended many séances and are familiar with the society, can you think of anyone who would want to kill the mediums?”

“Absolutely not. They are lovely people. I am aghast that someone would kill them.”

“And worried too, I imagine,” Tilda said. “It doesn’t concern you to attend the séance tonight?”

Miss Sullivan gave her head a shake, which sent the veil moving about her shoulders. “Not at all, especially since there are constables present. I am glad the society has continued to conduct séances. Perhaps I am being selfish, but I would hate to see them stop, even temporarily.”

Tilda noted the arrival of another woman. Of average height and with a somewhat thick middle, she also wore black and a veil, though hers was sheer enough to allow her facial features to be seen, while Miss Sullivan’s was not.

“Her Grace has arrived,” Miss Sullivan said.

Hawkins announced the duchess’s arrival. Everyone in the room bowed or curtsied, including Tilda. She worried that Hadrian had missed his chance to intercept her immediately, but he moved toward her with alacrity.

Tilda looked to Miss Sullivan, murmuring, “Please excuse me,” before following Hadrian.

Hadrian approached the duchess with a mild smile. “Good evening, Duchess.”

Though Tilda hadn’t had much occasion to recall formal address, she knew that Hadrian could call her “Duchess” as herpeer. Tilda, however, and everyone else here, would call her “Your Grace.”

“Ravenhurst,” the duchess replied. Her voice sounded a bit tremulous. “It’s been some time.”

Hadrian inclined his head. “Indeed it has. I am deeply sorry for your loss. I understand Mr. Ward was a special person to you.”

The duchess cleared her throat. “Like a son.” She sounded stronger now.

“Allow me to present my friend, Miss Matilda Wren.” Hadrian took a small step to the right to allow for Tilda to present the duchess with another curtsey.

“I am honored to make your acquaintance, Your Grace.”

The duchess did not reply. She turned her head slightly to address Hadrian once more, and Tilda wondered if she was invisible. “What brings you to this séance?” the duchess asked. “Are you a patron of the spiritualism society?”

“I am not. I attended a séance the other evening—conducted by Mrs. Frost—and wanted to come tonight.”