Page 35 of A Whisper and a Curse (Raven & Wren #3)

T hey were not able to find a hack. Returning to the alehouse they’d visited, Hadrian paid someone to take them to Captain Vale’s house and to wait there for them whilst they conducted their interview.

Unfortunately, it was a small gig which required the three of them to press in tightly together whilst a fine drizzle fell.

Finally, they were seated together. And not just on the same bench, but pressed tightly enough that they were touching. It was just their arms and the barest hint of their thighs. Rather, it was their clothing that touched, but it was intimate enough for Hadrian to wonder if Tilda was discomfited.

He was not.

On the contrary, he enjoyed being this close to her. She eased the tumult of thoughts spinning in his mind since learning that Mallory indeed shared the same ability to experience others’ memories as Hadrian. He felt much better, as if Tilda’s presence beside him was a balm.

The driver sat on Hadrian’s other side, and he smelled of ale and earth. Thankfully, Tilda’s floral scent was a welcome diversion. Because of the driver’s presence, they didn’t discuss what they’d just learned, nor what they planned to ask Captain Vale.

His residence was a large manor house that Hadrian estimated to have been constructed perhaps eighty years earlier. He wondered how the man had come to be in possession of such an estate, since he’d been a military officer. Perhaps he was a second—or even third—son and had inherited it.

“I’m curious why Thaddeus Vale has taken up a career as a spiritualist when he could stand to inherit this,” Tilda mused after they departed the gig, somewhat echoing Hadrian’s line of thought.

“I was thinking something similar. I wondered how Captain Vale had come to inherit this impressive pile whilst also serving in the military and decided he was likely a second or third son. Perhaps Thaddeus is not his firstborn and will not inherit.”

“We shall soon find out,” Tilda said as they reached the door.

Hadrian knocked soundly. It was a few moments before the door opened. A woman in a gray gown with a cap perched upon her sable hair perused them.

“Good afternoon, I am Lord Ravenhurst.” Hadrian handed his card to the woman, who was presumably the housekeeper. “And this is my colleague, Miss Wren. We are here to see Captain Vale. Since we have come from London and are due to return later this afternoon, we hope he is able to receive us.”

The housekeeper’s dark brows gathered as she looked at his card.

“I see. Please come inside. Wait here.” She indicated they move to a place near the center of the rectangular entrance hall, then she departed through an archway to the right that led into a large staircase hall.

She moved past the stairs and turned to the left.

Tilda was looking after the woman and stepped closer to the archway. “That is an interesting room.”

Hadrian looked into the staircase hall and noted a variety of swords and other blades adorning the walls. “An inspiring collection.”

“Inspiring how?” she asked archly. “Unless you’re planning on opening a school for swordsmanship?”

“I suppose that is one use for them,” Hadrian said with a chuckle.

“Why didn’t a butler answer the door?” Tilda asked. “I would expect a house like this to have a butler.” She sent Hadrian a sardonic glance. “I still can’t believe we have a butler.”

“There may be a butler here, but perhaps he couldn’t come to the door for some reason. He may be busy belowstairs. Or it could be that Captain Vale does not employ a butler. Some households run on a smaller complement of retainers. I presume the woman who answered the door is the housekeeper.”

Tilda pivoted to face him. “Is it strange that I asked about the butler?”

Hadrian wasn’t sure how to respond. He did not find it odd, but he could also not ignore the fact that she had asked and that she’d expected him to know the answer. Because of course, he would know how a house like this would run. “I don’t think so. And you are lucky to have a wonderful butler.”

“That we don’t really need,” she said with fleeting smile that lingered in her eyes.

The woman who Hadrian presumed was the housekeeper walked back into the staircase hall and continued toward them. She stopped just on the other side of the archway. “Captain Vale will receive you.”

She led them back the way she’d come, taking them into a cavernous library. A gentleman who bore more than a passing resemblance to Lysander Mallory strode toward them. His hair was not quite as blond as his son’s, but the hooded eyes were the exact same.

“Welcome, my lord, Miss Wren.” The captain gave them a sharp bow that one might expect from someone who’d served in the military.

“Thank you for seeing us,” Hadrian said. “This is a magnificent library.” He looked about the massive room, thinking it was one of the largest libraries he’d ever seen, including the rather substantial one at Ravenswood, Hadrian’s estate in Hampshire.

“My father is to blame. He decided the ballroom would make a much better library, and since he never held a ball, I believe he was right.” Captain Vale smiled. “I confess I’ve added to it since my retirement. I spend a great deal of time here.”

“You’ve a passion for reading?” Tilda asked.

“Shakespeare in particular. I fancy myself an amateur scholar, if there is such a thing,” he added with a smile.

Shakespeare. That could explain why Thaddeus Vale had a favorite Shakespearean character. Hadrian exchanged a look with Tilda.

“Did your son inherit your love of Shakespeare?” Tilda asked.

Captain Vale blinked at her. “Which son?”

“Thaddeus,” Tilda replied. “My apologies, I did not realize you had more than one.”

“Why have you come?” Captain Vale’s brow furrowed. “Do you know Thaddeus? Please tell me he’s all right.” The man blanched. “I knew I should have gone to London after I read about that first murder.”

“We do know Thaddeus.” Tilda spoke gently. “As far we know, he is fine. Indeed, we just saw him yesterday.”

Captain Vale exhaled and wiped his hand over his brow. “Thank goodness. Are you members of his club?”

Hadrian noted the man’s use of the word “club” rather than society.

Tilda clasped her hands before her. “No, we are investigating the murders of two of the mediums in the London Spiritualism Society, which your son founded.”

“ You’re investigating?” Captain Vale looked at Tilda as he asked the question.

“Yes, I am a private investigator, and Lord Ravenhurst assists me.”

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 to A 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.”