Page 31 of A Whisper and a Curse (Raven & Wren #3)

A flush moved up the duchess’s neck and face, and she blinked back tears. She pulled a handkerchief from the cuff of her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “He reminded me of my son, who I miss very much.” She looked to Hadrian. “You remember him, don’t you?”

Hadrian gave her a respectful nod, though he hadn’t known her son at all. “Of course. He was very well liked in the Lords.” That much was true.

“And now the title belongs to some cousin I hardly know.” She sniffed again. “I cannot help that I did not have more sons or that my son only had daughters.”

“What about Mr. Ward reminded you of your son?” Tilda asked.

The duchess tipped her head. “Many things, but I suppose it is that when my son would inhabit Cyril’s body to speak to me, I truly felt as if Bernard were here with me. We had so many wonderful conversations about times gone by.” She wiped at her eyes again and took a shaky breath.

Tilda paused a moment before continuing, likely waiting for the duchess to compose herself. “It must have been lovely to relive memories with Mr. Ward.”

“Not with Cyril. With Bernard. Cyril was merely the vessel through which my son spoke.”

“Now Mr. Hawkins can be that vessel,” Tilda said. “Do you know Mr. Montrose and Miss Sullivan well? I confess I was quite taken with Miss Sullivan at the séance last night. She was very charming.”

The duchess actually smiled. “I do enjoy Cordelia. And Balthasar, though I know Cordelia better. She was almost always present at Cyril’s séances. I presume that is why she was there last night. I expected to see Balthasar as he typically attends Mr. Hawkins’s séances, from what I have heard.”

Tilda glanced at Hadrian before responding. “It sounds as though the mediums specifically invite Miss Sullivan and Mr. Montrose to their séances. I wonder why.”

“Cyril explained that Cordelia provided a special energy that he finds most useful in his séances,” the duchess replied. “I presume it’s the same with Balthasar and with Duncan Parr, though I’ve only met him once. He had to take Cordelia’s place at one of Cyril’s séances when she was ill.”

“That is fascinating,” Tilda said. “We haven’t met Mr. Parr. Is he Scottish, by chance?”

The duchess nodded. “He is, with the most vivid red hair I’ve ever seen.”

Hadrian thought she must be referring to the man Eldred had mentioned seeing at the séances he’d attended.

Tilda went on. “I was curious why you and Miss Sullivan were seated together last night. I thought the order of guests around the table had to be male-female.”

“Typically, it is, but in the end, the energy dictates everything. At least, that is what Cyril always said.” A faint smile teased the duchess’s mouth.

“He was always so open about his work. Like you, I found it fascinating.” The duchess looked to Tilda and then Hadrian.

“Have you become a patron of the society?”

“Not yet, but I am considering it.” Hadrian told the lie relatively easily. “What is it that prompted you to do so?”

“I read about the society when it opened. I didn’t know anything about spiritualism, but when I learned the mediums could speak with the spirit realm, I called at the society headquarters. That is where I met Cyril.” The duchess’s gaze softened wistfully. “We struck an immediate accord.”

Hadrian took the chance to inquire about the duchess’s patronage. “I am concerned about the cost of becoming a patron. I want to ensure I am paying a fair price.”

The duchess’s eyes were wide as she responded. “I don’t think there is too great a price. They provide comfort to so many people, many of whom are not in a position to support their work.”

Hadrian wanted more specific information and suspected Tilda did too. “Forgive me for asking, but I read in the newspaper that you provided an allowance to Mr. Ward. Was that in addition to your patronage of the society?”

“How I dislike that my support of Cyril was publicized in such a tawdry manner.” The duchess’s lips pursed with disdain.

“But yes, I shall tell you that my patronage of the society and my special care for Cyril were separate. We developed a close bond, and he became a member of my family.” She blinked and refocused on Hadrian.

“I can’t imagine you would take issue with the patronage, Ravenhurst. You can afford it many times over, I’m sure. ”

Whilst that wasn’t specific as far as an amount, it said enough to Hadrian that he didn’t wish to continue pressing.

“The society is lucky to have you, Your Grace,” Tilda said.

“Is any of this helpful to your investigation?” the duchess asked. “I can’t see how it would be, but I also don’t know anything about how Cyril died beyond what Lysander and that inspector explained to me.”

Tilda gave the duchess an appreciative smile. “You’ve been very helpful. I have just one more question. Do you know of anyone who was upset with the society or the mediums?”

“Everyone I have ever spoken to has been thrilled with their experiences with the society,” the duchess replied. “I think you are trying to ask if I might know who killed my dear Cyril, and I do not.”

It occurred to Hadrian that the duchess’s family might take issue with her support of Cyril Ward. “How did your family accept Cyril’s place in your affections?”

“My two daughters hardly cared. They are quite busy with their own families.” She gave Hadrian a pointed look. “One is a marchioness and the other is a viscountess, if you recall, Ravenhurst.”

Tilda looked to Hadrian. “I think we’ve taken enough of your time.”

“Thank you, Duchess,” Hadrian said, rising along with Tilda.

“Perhaps I will see you at another séance.” The duchess looked to Tilda. “You really ought to speak with your father. He reached out to you. How can you not respond?”

Hadrian felt Tilda tense beside him.

“I’m considering it,” Tilda replied thinly.

“Good.” The duchess nodded. “You won’t regret it. I know it can seem strange at first, but you will be so glad to have him back in your life.”

They said goodbye and left the drawing room. Hadrian looked over at Tilda as they descended the stairs, but her features were impassive. He surmised she was troubled by the “appearance” of her father at the séance and people’s subsequent encouragement of her speaking with him.

Outside, Tilda suggested she could go straight home since Teague had sent a constable. Hadrian reluctantly agreed and said he would still send a footman over as soon as possible.

“I also want to know if you received a threatening message at your house,” Tilda said.

Hadrian met her gaze. “You shall be the first to know.”

Leach greeted them at the coach and helped Tilda inside. Hadrian was tempted to join her on the forward-facing seat. Being next to her would perhaps alleviate some of his anxiety about the threatening letter she’d received. But he could keep her safe from the other side of the coach.

Tilda spoke as the coach started forward. “I am curious why Mrs. Frost pressed your mother to return quickly so as not to lose the connection with your brother, whilst the duchess has apparently been conversing with her son for a year or more.”

“That seems to be more evidence of their deception,” Hadrian said. “Just imagine how lucrative the duchess’s patronage has likely been for the society.”

Tilda nodded. “That is a fair point. I would like to know more about those three people with the ‘special energy’ that the mediums find helpful.” Her eyes locked with his.

“I want to know if that energy is actually the same power you possess to see others’ memories.

It would make sense to sit someone with that ability next to the medium who is trying to contact the spirit realm.

When the duchess spoke of Ward—as her son, Bernard—sharing memories, I immediately thought that you could do that. ”

Hadrian was horrified at the thought of pretending to be someone’s deceased relative. “I would never. I’m confused about who wields this power. I would think it would be the medium, but you think it may be these other people?”

Tilda shrugged. “Perhaps it’s both? Or perhaps the ‘special energy’ is something else entirely.

What if that person and the medium, along with whatever power they might have, work together to speak with the dead?

” She exhaled. “I’m merely suggesting ideas.

We need to expose someone’s ability—if in fact they have what you have, or something similar. ”

“That may be difficult. I wouldn’t reveal that to anyone. The only reason you know is because you deduced there was something going on and forced me to tell you.”

“It was vital that you did,” she said. “Not just because we needed to build our partnership on honesty. You needed to share it with someone,” she added softly.

“You are right about that.” He didn’t regret telling her and would do so again in a trice.

But all this talk of his ability and the duchess’s questions about how they came to work together made him wonder about the partnership she’d just mentioned.

“Do you think we would be investigating together if not for my ability to see memories?” Hadrian wasn’t sure.

She took a moment to respond. “I don’t know that I can answer that.

Your ‘curse’ is what caused us to meet. You’d seen a memory, and it drove you to my grandfather’s cousin’s house where we met.

And from then on, our paths have intertwined.

” She paused, her gaze searching his face.

“I think you must accept that your ability is part of you. It wasn’t before, but it is now, and you can’t separate it from yourself. ”

Her words slammed into him with a brutal but poignant force. “You are right,” he said quietly. “It is still difficult for me to acknowledge, let alone accept. I am most grateful that it brought me to you, however.”

Their eyes locked and held.

Hadrian had never felt such a tenderness for someone before. Their relationship transcended their work and even their friendship. It was … special. And yet it could not be romantic.

The coach drew to a stop. Tilda looked away first.

Hadrian climbed from the coach and helped Tilda to the pavement.

She released his hand with alacrity, and he tried not to be disappointed.

Any reason to touch her was welcome. Like wanting to sit with her in the coach, touching her reassured him that she was safe. He would ensure she stayed that way.

“I am looking forward to our trip tomorrow,” she said. “I enjoyed our last journey by train.”

They’d gone to Brighton to interview someone when they were investigating their first case. “I will hope we can easily find Roger Grenville. Swindon isn’t a village.”

“It may take us a bit of time, but we’ll find him. Unless he doesn’t want to be found,” she added somewhat darkly. “Hopefully that will not be the case.”