Page 1 of A Whisper and a Curse (Raven & Wren #3)

H adrian Becket, Earl of Ravenhurst, had been shocked when his mother had asked to invite his investigative partner, Miss Matilda Wren, to their biweekly Sunday tea.

It wasn’t actually the invitation that surprised him, but the purpose of it.

The dowager countess wanted to hire Tilda to investigate …

something, which she hadn’t yet disclosed.

As Tilda poured the tea, Hadrian kept his curiosity in check. Barely.

The minutes stretched as they made small talk. Hadrian forced himself to sip his tea.

Then he could stand it no longer. He impaled his mother with his most direct stare. “I am on tenterhooks waiting to hear why you need Miss Wren’s help.”

His mother’s blue eyes—so like his own—narrowed at him ever so slightly. “I don’t want to hear any admonishment about any of this. Do you understand?”

Bloody hell. This did not bode well. Hadrian tried to temper his concern. “Of course, but such a warning does not herald a sense of comfort.”

“I just don’t want you to counsel me.” His mother sniffed, as if she were already affronted.

“I will not, Mama.” He tried not to sound beleaguered and likely failed.

His mother abruptly turned her attention to Tilda, and Hadrian took another drink of tea. “I have recently begun consulting with a medium,” the dowager countess said.

Hadrian nearly choked.

Coughing, he set his cup down. His mother glowered at him briefly, then looked back to Tilda. “She says she can communicate with Gabriel. Miss Wren, I want you to determine if she is authentic.”

Of all the ridiculous notions. Why would his mother want to speak with Gabriel anyway? Hadrian’s younger brother had died five years ago of cholera in India. His death would always provoke sadness. Why would his mother want to stir that up?

Perhaps because she still missed her youngest child. And now some charlatan was going to exploit her grief.

A sudden flush crept up Hadrian’s neck as anger at this unnamed medium swept through him. He clamped his lips together lest he speak out.

Tilda glanced at him, and he kept his features stoic. He could not tell what she was thinking, but she did not appear alarmed. She smiled at his mother. “I will be glad to help, Lady Ravenhurst. Allow me to take notes whilst you provide the necessary details.”

Hadrian silently fumed. Had he really expected Tilda to deny his mother’s request? She was a paying client, and Tilda needed those. Not that Tilda would take any case. But did she really think it was possible to prove a medium was authentic? Hell, Hadrian couldn’t prove his visions were real.

The visions had started after he’d been stabbed a few months ago. As Hadrian had fallen to the pavement, he’d managed to remove a ring from his assailant’s finger. Hadrian had struck his head and lost consciousness.

One terrible concussion and a few days later, Hadrian had touched the ring and seen visions in his mind.

After much investigation and frustration, he’d realized the visions were the memories of the man who’d worn that ring.

The visions had continued—memories from others—as he’d touched other objects and people, provided he touched his bare skin to the object or another’s flesh.

There was no explanation for how he was able to see what he did or how he could often feel the person’s emotions in addition to seeing their memories.

The only other person who knew of his confounding affliction was Tilda.

That was because these visions and sensations had been crucial in helping to solve multiple murders they’d worked together to investigate.

Indeed, his visions were the reason they were an investigative team.

She was the investigator, and his unique power often guided her inquiries.

He supposed the fact that his visions had never steered them wrong, nor were they ever proven to be false, was as good as proof that they were real. Nevertheless, he didn’t plan to tell anyone else about them.

Hadrian gave his mother a patient stare. “I don’t think Miss Wren’s capabilities extend to determining whether a medium’s power is real or not. Nor do I think you need her to do so. I can tell you that this medium cannot possibly talk to Gabriel.”

His mother exhaled. “I knew you would say something like that. However, I have it on good authority that she can speak to the dead.”

“Whose authority? And if you are so certain, why do you need to hire Miss Wren?”

Lips pursing, the dowager narrowed her eyes slightly.

“I am not certain, but my friend, Mrs. Langdon, who has been to her séances, swears the medium can speak to the dead. The medium revealed things she could not know. I trust Evelyn—Mrs. Langdon. However, I want to hire Miss Wren to make sure the medium is authentic.” She focused on Hadrian intently.

“Wouldn’t you like to speak with Gabriel again? ”

Hadrian missed his brother. He was angry that his life had been cut short, particularly since he’d been in love and on the verge of marriage, according to the last letter Hadrian had received from him. But Hadrian did not expect to speak with him.

“Mother, Gabriel is dead,” he said quietly.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he is gone. He’s in the spirit realm, and he can communicate with us. At least, that is what I hope.” The dowager countess picked up her teacup and sipped before replacing it on the table.

“Is that what the medium told you, that he’s in the spirit realm?” Tilda asked, snatching the question from Hadrian’s mind but posing it in a much kinder tone. Indeed, Tilda gave his mother a gentle smile and appeared greatly interested.

His mother nodded at Tilda. “Yes. And my friend says they are happy and safe—and eager to speak with those here on earth.”

Tilda glanced at Hadrian, but he couldn’t at all tell what she was thinking. “I confess I am most curious,” she said to his mother.

“I’m glad to hear it because the medium is conducting a séance tomorrow night, and I am to be the prime subject. I want you to come with me.” She looked at Hadrian. “You don’t need to accompany us.”

Before Hadrian could respond, his mother cocked her head with a slight frown. “Actually, you do need to accompany us. The medium is very particular about the circle, and she’s made it possible for me to bring precisely one male and one female.”

Hadrian held up a hand. “One moment. How much are you paying this medium?”

“Nothing,” his mother responded briskly. “They do not charge a fee for the initial séance.” She turned her attention to Tilda. “Which is why I agreed before I asked you to investigate. I hoped you would be able to come and provide an assessment.”

“What if we are not able to attend?” Hadrian asked.

His mother’s expression was skeptical. “Is that true?”

Tilda picked up her teacup. “I am available.”

Hadrian realized there was no avoiding it, nor should he try.

If someone was going to attempt to fleece his mother in some way, he ought to do his utmost to protect her.

He exhaled, releasing most of his annoyance.

They would attend this séance, prove the medium was fake, and that would be the end of it.

“What time are we expected, and where are we going?”

“We are going to a house in Rathbone Place,” his mother replied. “The séance begins promptly at eight. Dinner is served after.”

There was a dinner? “We don’t need to stay for dinner, do we?

” Hadrian noted the lines around his mother’s mouth.

He was irritating her. He did not mean to.

This was just highly unusual. And aggravating.

“I don’t mean to be lacking in enthusiasm, but your involvement with a medium is most surprising.

You say Mrs. Langdon introduced you to this person? ”

“Yes. Mrs. Frost is one of the mediums with the London Spiritualism Society. She is very sensitive and kind. You will like her immediately, as I did. You will also see that she possesses a marvelous temperament for communicating with the spirit world.”

Hadrian could only imagine what that could mean. Fortunately, he did not have to ask.

Tilda returned her cup to the table as she regarded his mother. “What sort of temperament is that?”

“She’s calm and approachable, very mild in her manner. Apparently, she puts the spirits at ease, and they are comfortable communicating with her.”

“How pleasant,” Tilda replied, as if conversing about spirits was completely normal. “You mentioned that you are allowed to bring precisely one male and one female. Why is that?”

Hadrian’s mother grew animated. “Mrs. Frost explained that circles are assembled with an equal number of men and women due to the energy brought by the different sexes. When I said I wanted to bring my son, she said she would also need to add a female, which is when I thought to include you, Miss Wren. Mrs. Frost also explained that it sometimes takes a séance or two to achieve the correct mixture of people. She said that Hadrian’s presence and that of a family friend would be most helpful for contacting Gabriel. ”

“Tilda is a ‘family friend’?” Hadrian asked.

His mother looked at him as if he were daft. As if he were the one who wanted to speak with his dead brother. “What else was I to tell them?”

Certainly not that she was bringing an investigator to prove whether or not the medium was authentic.

“I am happy to be your family friend,” Tilda said warmly. “I will do my best to ascertain if Mrs. Frost can truly speak to the dead, though it will be difficult to tell in just one meeting. I will need to do additional investigation. Can you tell me what she helped Mrs. Langdon with?”

“Evelyn—Mrs. Langdon—wanted to speak with her father. Her mother is ill and confused much of the time. Evelyn wanted to find something her mother has lost and hoped her father could help find it.”

“And was she able to?” Tilda asked. “Find it, that is.”