Page 64 of A Whisper and a Curse

They arrived at the duchess’s house and departed the coach. A pair of gentlemen emerged from the house as they approached. Hadrian inclined his head toward Lysander Mallory and Victor Hawkins.

“Good afternoon,” Hadrian said.

Mallory’s hooded brown eyes surveyed them briefly. “Afternoon, my lord. Miss Wren.”

“You were visiting the duchess?” Tilda asked.

“I have every day since Cyril’s death,” Mallory replied. “She says it is a comfort. After Victor’s success with contacting Cyril last night, Her Grace requested we both visit today. She didn’t mention that she was expecting you.”

“We saw her last night, of course.” Hadrian flicked a glance toward Hawkins. “However, we weren’t able to speak for very long.” That was all he was going to say. He glanced at Tilda, whose eyes gleamed with some unspoken communication, perhaps that she approved of what he said.

“I hope you enjoyed the séance last night,” Hawkins said, his gaze settling on Tilda. “I did worry that you were upset about your father wanting to contact you.”

“It was most startling,” Tilda replied evenly. “Please don’t let us keep you.”

Hawkins touched the brim of his hat as he and Mallory stepped past them and walked away along the pavement.

Tilda looked after them. “I find it interesting that Mallory has called on the duchess every day since Ward’s death.”

“I expect she is their wealthiest patron,” Hadrian said, escorting her to the door. “It makes sense that he would wish to continue their relationship following Ward’s death.”

Hadrian knocked, and the butler answered the door. Straightaway, Hadrian handed the man his card. The butler didn’t hesitate to invite them inside.

Hadrian gave the man a brief smile. “Please tell the duchess we are here to speak with her about Mr. Ward’s death. We are investigating the matter, which we think will be of interest to her.”

“Thank you, my lord. Please wait here.” The butler hastened into the staircase hall and went upstairs.

Hadrian noted how Tilda surveyed the entrance hall. Her gaze lingered on the paintings and a life-size statue of a woman in Roman garb. These things must seem extravagant to her.

“You should take the lead with our questions,” Hadrian said.

Tilda nodded. “If she agrees to see us.”

Hadrian would press the matter if she did not. However, that was not necessary as they were shown upstairs to the drawing room a few minutes later.

The duchess was once again dressed in black, though she was not wearing a veil. She sat near the hearth wearing a forlorn expression which carved deep lines into her round, jowled face. A black lace cap perched atop her gray hair.

“Good afternoon, Duchess,” Hadrian said as he and Tilda moved toward the seating area.

“Ravenhurst.” The duchess looked up at him, then glanced at Tilda. “And Miss Wren. Hanson said you are here to discuss Cyril, that you are investigating his … death.” She blinked slowly as if she had difficulty saying that word.

“We are,” Tilda replied. “I am a private investigator.”

“Are you?” the duchess asked in surprise and with perhaps a mild derision. “How strange.” She looked to Hadrian. “And why are you with her?”

“We work together investigating cases,” he said. “May we sit?”

The duchess waved them toward a settee. Hadrian looked at Tilda, and they went to sit together.

“How did you come to work with one another in such an odd manner?” The duchess eyed them dubiously. Again, her tone held a touch of disdain.

Though Hadrian had said that Tilda could lead their interview, he felt he needed to speak on their behalf in this instance. “I hired Miss Wren to investigate a matter. We worked together and have done so on several matters since.”

“Youhired her?” The duchess’s surprise moved toward incredulity, which Hadrian found irritating. Though he should not. Most people would find hiring a woman private investigator to be … strange or odd—to use the duchess’s words.

“I did, and I did so a second time.” He stopped short of saying his mother had hired her too because he did not want to reveal their investigation into whether the mediums were frauds. “Miss Wren is extremely clever. Her grandfather was a magistrate, and her father was a sergeant in the Metropolitan Police.” That he’d died before he was able to fulfill his promotion was not important. “Miss Wren is working very hard to find Mr. Ward’s and Mrs. Frost’s killer. I have every expectation she will.”

The duchess now looked at Tilda with curiosity, which was an improvement from her earlier disdain, and from last night when she’d all but ignored Tilda. “That is high praise. I want nothing more than my poor Cyril’s murderer to be brought to justice. I shall watch him hang with great glee.”