Page 26 of A Whisper and a Curse (Raven & Wren #3)

“I suppose.” She watched as Hadrian made his way to the corner where Crocker was filling wine glasses on a small sideboard.

“Are you all right, Miss Wren?” The unmistakable husky voice of Miss Sullivan drew Tilda to pivot.

“I am, thank you.”

“You went quite pale.” Miss Sullivan sounded concerned.

“I was surprised by what happened.”

Miss Sullivan grasped Tilda’s hand. “You must listen to the spirits when they wish to speak. You never know what unfinished business they need to conclude.”

Tilda’s blood chilled once more. She hated the way her father had died—so suddenly and violently.

He’d deserved much better, and so had she.

Not being able to tell him that she loved him, that she would miss him, that he was the best person she’d ever known was salt in a wound that never seemed to fully heal.

To think that her father was somewhere with the same open wound was agony.

Still, none of that was fodder to entertain these people.

“I would think that mediums could better control what happens in a séance,” Tilda said. “There is … grief involved, and some people may not wish to share that publicly.”

“I do understand,” Miss Sullivan said kindly. “I think the mediums believe that if someone is attending a séance, they are open to conversing with the spirit realm. That is, after all, the point.”

Tilda couldn’t help feeling as though she were being scolded, however politely. “That was not made clear to me.”

Miss Sullivan gave Tilda’s hand a gentle squeeze, their bare palms pressing together, then released her.

Hadrian returned with two glasses and handed one to Tilda. He looked to Miss Sullivan, who abruptly took the other one from him. She did so almost clumsily, her hand covering his briefly before she managed to clasp the glass.

“Pardon me,” she said with a throaty chuckle. “Thank you, my lord.”

“My pleasure,” Hadrian said, though Tilda was almost certain the wine had been for him. “Will you be staying for dinner?”

Tilda hoped so. She wanted to see the woman’s face.

“I’m afraid not.” Miss Sullivan held her veil out and lifted the wine glass beneath it to take a sip. “It was lovely to meet you both. I hope we’ll encounter one another again.” She turned and walked away.

Hadrian looked at his hand, his lips bent in a slight frown.

“What’s wrong?” Tilda asked.

“When Miss Sullivan touched my hand, I felt an odd sensation. It was akin to an electric current, but also cold at the same time.” Hadrian gave his head a shake. “What did she say to you?”

Tilda related their brief conversation. “I found her counsel annoying, which was disappointing since I was rather charmed by her before the séance. I wonder about her relationship to Hawkins, besides being a member of the society, and why she and the duchess were seated next to one another.”

“Perhaps they share a special energy.” Hadrian waggled his brows.

Tilda stifled a smile. “Did you see anything during the séance?”

“From the woman on my other side, you mean? I did not.” His gaze moved toward the doorway. “The duchess is leaving.”

“We should bid her goodnight.”

“Too late,” Hadrian said. “She’s already left the parlor.”

“Would you mind if we take our leave?” Tilda asked. “I don’t think I can tolerate dinner after what happened.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

Tilda returned her glass to the table where Crocker stood. “I didn’t drink any, if that matters.” She set the wine down.

“I hope you aren’t too unsettled, Miss Wren,” the butler said earnestly. “The spirits mean you no harm. I think you should try to speak with your father.”

“I’ll have to think on it,” she said noncommittally. “Have a good evening, Crocker.”

She and Hadrian went to make their excuses to Hawkins and left a few minutes later.

Once they were in Hadrian’s coach on their way to Marylebone, Tilda stroked her cheek. The feel of her gloved fingertips prompted her to recall Miss Sullivan’s odd gloves.

“I find it strange that we could see nothing of Miss Sullivan save her palms. Not that we were able to see them so much as feel them when she touched us both.” Tilda narrowed her eyes.

“I’d thought that perhaps Hawkins had seen my memories when he took my hand after we arrived, but it could also have been Miss Sullivan.

She touched me before the séance and could have relayed what she saw to Hawkins.

It’s also possible she could have whispered to him during the séance.

With her thick veil, there was no way to see if she spoke. ”

Hadrian stared at her. “Have you convinced yourself that these people are able to see memories as I am?”

“It seems the most plausible explanation at this point.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “Unless they truly are just making rather accurate guesses.”

“I still think that is possible,” Hadrian said evenly.

“Ward’s supposed spirit seemed to know things about the duchess, but I think it’s highly likely Hawkins could have known enough to offer believable estimations.

” He paused before crossing his arms. “However the medium is able to convincingly speak with the spirit realm—whether by guessing about things or using a power such as mine—have we concluded that it’s all a fraud? ”

“Not yet.” Tilda saw his eyes darken and held up a hand. “We’ve still more investigation to do. I wish to speak to Eldred and find out what happened to make him angry at the society. Not just because he may be a suspect as the Levitation Killer. Perhaps he has evidence of fraud.”

“Shall we call on him tomorrow?”

Tilda nodded. “We don’t have his address, but I think we must visit Teague at Scotland Yard and persuade him to share it. I’d also like to travel to Swindon and question Mallory’s former partner. I’m most curious as to why he was denigrating Mallory before leaving London and returning home.”

“Let’s take the train to Swindon on Sunday then.” Hadrian fixed her with an expectant stare. “I think you want to be able to confirm that someone has the same power as I do.”

“If that is how they are allegedly speaking to the dead, then yes.”

“What if we cannot do that?” he asked. “What if we are only able to catch them pretending to levitate or controlling the table? What about their other tricks, such as the cold air that blows at the start of the séance? Or moving objects, which we’ve yet to see?”

“This is why we must continue investigating. I am relieved there was no murder today.”

“As am I.” Hadrian uncrossed his arms and leaned back against the squab. “Perhaps the murderer is finished.”

Tilda looked out the window into the night. “That may be, but we will still find them and bring them to justice.”