Page 74 of A Whisper and a Curse
Captain Vale assessed Hadrian briefly. “I hope you do an admirable job.”
Tilda smiled, and Hadrian knew Captain Vale had gained an ally if he ever needed one. “He is quite helpful,” she said. “Do you mind if we speak with you about your son? We know him as Lysander Mallory.”
Captain Vale pressed his lips together in a somewhat disapproving expression. “The name he took for his ‘character.’”
“You don’t care for it?” Tilda asked.
“It’s a fine name, especially the nod toA Midsummer Night’s Dream, but I don’t know why he felt he needed it. Thaddeus is a good, strong name. It belonged to my father, in fact.” Captain Vale waved his hand. “I’m glad to speak with you if it will help catch this murderer. I am worried about Thaddeus. I may come to London after all, I think.”
Hadrian wondered how much Tilda would say. Part of him didn’t want to reveal Thaddeus’s fraudulent behavior to his father. The man would likely be hugely disappointed. He already seemed somewhat disinclined toward his son’s endeavors. And yet he’d leased the house for the society headquarters.
“Let us sit,” Captain Vale said, gesturing toward a small round table. “Mrs. Higgins is bringing tea.”
“Your son is most charming,” Tilda said as they sat down. She removed her gloves and set them in her lap. “His society is very popular. You must be proud of his accomplishments.”
The captain’s eyes shadowed as he glanced away. His shoulder twitched, and Hadrian had confirmation that the man did not support his son’s work. Perhaps Captain Vale already knew of his son’s deceptive behavior.
“I am proud of his hard work,” Captain Vale said. “Though I confess I would have preferred to see him pursue an artistic career. He would make a fine novelist or playwright.”
If one thought of Thaddeus Vale as the head of a troupe of actors, one could say he had an artistic career. Hadrian removed his own gloves and wondered what he might sense from touching the table or anything else in the house, including Captain Vale.
“He’s written several things.” Captain Vale stood, moved to a bookshelf, and plucked up a bound volume. Returning to them, he set it on the table between Hadrian and Tilda. “I had his stories bound into a book.”
Mrs. Higgins entered with the tea tray and deposited it on the table. She poured the tea but left it to them to add cream and sugar, per Captain Vale’s instructions.
Hadrian reached for the cream at the same time as the captain and their hands collided. “My apologies.”
Captain Vale came slightly out of his chair and gripped Hadrian’s hand, his palm wrapping over the back. His eyes focused on nothing, and Hadrian drew in a sharp breath. An odd sensation spiked through him—a coldness followed by a flash of heat.
Just as quickly as he’d snatched Hadrian, Captain Vale released him. The man settled back in his chair and straightened his coat. Then his gaze met Hadrian’s. “Why are you really here, my lord?” The captain’s eyes glittered with wariness and an intense curiosity. Had he felt whatever Hadrian had?
Hadrian’s heart raced. When the captain grasped him, Hadrian had felt the same frisson of energy as when he’d touched Lysander Mallory.
“You are like me,” the captain whispered, answering Hadrian’s question . “You are able to experience others’ memories. Don’t deny it because I could sense it when I touched you.”
Hadrian heard Tilda’s sharp intake of breath but did not look at her. “I It suddenly occurred to him that he’d experienced a similar sensation when he’d briefly shaken Mallory’s hand. “I also felt something…odd when I touched your son.” The feeling hadn’t been quite the same, for Hadrian recalled only a coldness. That contact had been fleeting, though. Perhaps they hadn’t touched long enough for Hadrian to feel the full effect.
“It is not uncommon for a father and son to share the ability. It runs in families, or so my grandfather told me. I have never met another person—outside of my family—with it. Until now.”
Families … Hadrian wondered who in his family possessed this power. Surely it wasn’t his father, but perhaps that was why he’d been cold? Hadrian could see how it could make a person retreat into themselves, afraid of what they would see whenever they touched something or someone.
It definitely wasn’t his mother. He didn’t think she’d be able to mask that.
“When did your ability start?” the captain asked. “It is different for everyone.”
“I hit my head a few months ago,” he said quietly. “I began to see visions that I could not explain. I was certain I was going mad.”
Tilda touched Hadrian’s arm, and he turned his head to glance at her. Her eyes were full of such compassion. No one had ever looked at him like that.
“You are not mad,” the captain assured him. “At least, the things you see are not due to any mental deficiency. However, the abilitycandrive a person to madness.” His expression darkened. “I worried that my poor son would end up in an asylum. He had great difficulty at first, for his power is very sensitive. He could hardly touch anything or anyone without being assaulted by visions. He wore gloves almost incessantly for years.”
That sounded horrible. Hadrian was very glad he had not experienced that. “Pardon me, Captain, I am shocked to meet someone who shares this curse.” To think he could have answers at last … His chest tightened. “I have been at turns bewildered and frustrated. I don’t know why this happened or how to manage it.”
The captain’s brow furrowed. “Was no one in your family gifted?”
Gifted was not the word Hadrian would have used.Afflictedseemed more accurate. “Not to my knowledge.” Was Hadrian to ask his grandmother or his father’s younger brother? Or perhaps some distant cousin?
Captain Vale shrugged. “It doesn’t pass directly. I have three sons, and only Thaddeus has the gift. My father did not have it either, but his father did. Someone in your family has this ability, but it may have skipped a generation or two.”