Page 43 of A Whisper and a Curse (Raven & Wren #3)

“Perhaps Miss Dryden was correct, and the invitation is waiting for you at home.”

“It doesn’t signify as I will be going straight to my mother’s. I’m sorry, but I would rather have this conversation with her without you present.”

“I understand. If you do decide to attend tonight, I’m happy to go with you. If you want me to,” she added. Perhaps he wouldn’t want her there either.

Tilda felt a stab of disappointment and wasn’t sure if it was due to being excluded from her own investigation or because it hurt to think Hadrian didn’t want to involve her in the more personal aspects of his life.

Tilda pressed her lips together and looked out the window.

She had no right to think she should be involved in Hadrian’s life.

They were friends, but he didn’t owe her anything, nor should she expect it.

Especially after she’d made it clear to him that she wasn’t interested in a more intimate association.

More and more, she began to wonder if she was interested.

Why was she bothering to think about that? There was no point. Love and marriage were not things she aspired to achieve. She could not be an independent woman and a private investigator if she married. Especially if she married an earl.

Not that he would ever ask. The distance between their stations was far too great.

She realized that by firmly establishing their connection as professional colleagues and friends, she would not be privy to certain things, including his family, even if Tilda was working for his mother.

She couldn’t help thinking that the kiss had changed things irrevocably, if only because it had demanded they set boundaries.

And now that they were in place, Tilda perhaps felt regret.

Hadrian didn’t respond to her offer. Indeed, he said nothing until the coach stopped at her house.

“Good luck with your mother.” Tilda summoned a smile. “I’m sure all will turn out well.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Tilda. I appreciate you more than you can realize.”

As Tilda left the coach, she told herself not to think too long or too hard on what Hadrian had said. They had a lovely friendship and an excellent working partnership. And that was enough.

P everell, Hadrian’s mother’s butler, directed him to his mother’s sitting room, which adjoined her bedchamber on the first floor. Hadrian had rarely visited that space, and he couldn’t help thinking she’d chosen to receive him there because it would put him off-kilter.

Or it could be that was just where she was, and there was no ulterior motive.

Hadrian shook his head before he walked in to confront his mother.

He’d been angry for over a week—as long as he’d known that his mother wanted to contact Gabriel.

His anger wasn’t just about his mother being cheated by the spiritualism society.

He now recognized the anger as what he’d felt after learning of Gabriel’s death.

And he had anger on top of that anger because he’d thought he’d resolved those feelings, and yet here they were resurfacing.

All because his mother had decided to see a medium.

He was angry with her for stirring up his grief.

Exhaling, Hadrian worked to push the rage and sadness away. He’d done it before, and he could do it again.

“Hadrian, why are you loitering outside the doorway?” his mother called from the sitting room.

“Apologies, Mama,” he said as he walked inside. He smiled and that felt better.

“I wasn’t expecting you today,” the dowager countess said from the table where she was drinking tea. “I did receive your note about poor Mr. Hawkins. Would you like tea?”

“No, thank you.” Hadrian moved to sit opposite her at the table. “Did you send a response to my note? I’ve been out most of the day.”

“I did not.” She sipped her tea.

“Did you, by chance, send me an invitation to tonight’s séance?” he asked benignly, though his pulse was moving swiftly.

She set her cup down with a faint grimace. “I did not. I only spoke with Mrs. Griswold this morning.”

“You spoke with her?”

“Yes, she called to offer her services for a séance this evening. She knew I’d been to one last week with Mrs. Frost and that I’d wanted to attend another.

” His mother shrugged as if planning to attend a séance where the previous medium she’d seen had been murdered was a regular occurrence.

“Honestly, I was eager to say yes. Mrs. Griswold was very charming. I have an excellent feeling about her.”

Hadrian took a deep breath lest he say something rash. “Mama, Tilda explained to you how the mediums use trickery during their séances.”

“Yes, but I don’t care about that. I only care that they can speak to the dead, and I believe they can.”

Instead of asking why she’d bothered to hire Tilda, he smoothed his palm along his thigh as he chose his words. “We’ve found no proof they can do that. We have, however, found proof that they have blackmailed people.”

His mother’s eyes rounded. “That’s … horrible. How did you find out?”

“In the course of our investigation,” he replied. “I do not want you to fall victim to Mallory’s extortion.”

“Mallory, you say? Well, I am seeing Mrs. Griswold. Furthermore, how they could possibly blackmail me?” She blinked at him. “There is nothing I would pay to keep secret.”

Hadrian wanted to reply that his father had kept secrets.

But he’d no idea how much his mother knew.

They’d never discussed his father’s transgressions, and he didn’t want to start doing so now.

Furthermore, he’d have to explain how Mallory had learned those secrets.

This was becoming a massive problem—he could not fully expose how Mallory committed his crimes without sharing the man’s supernatural ability.

And if he did, he had to think Mallory would point his finger right back at Hadrian.

“These are unscrupulous people, Mama,” Hadrian said. “I am trying to protect you from them.”

“I have already paid for tonight’s séance.” Her tone held a note of hauteur. “I have seen and heard enough to believe that these mediums channel spirits. You can’t explain how they know things that they should not.”

He fleetingly considered telling his mother about Mallory’s ability without revealing he had it too. But he was afraid of her reaction. What if she laughed or was horrified? In the end, he said, “Trust me when I say they employ trickery to make it seem as though they can speak to the dead.”

“Can you prove that?”

“Not yet.” Hadrian suspected that Tilda would encourage him to be honest with his mother about his power. Perhaps he should …

“Well, until you can, I am going to continue to try to communicate with Gabriel.” She gave Hadrian a stern look. “I need to do this tonight. I may not have another chance. You don’t understand why this is important to me.” She looked away from him.

“I suppose I don’t. It won’t bring him back.”

“I know that,” she said crossly. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, she focused on Hadrian once more and seemed to have released some of her frustration. “I miss him. I want him to know how much I love him. I need to know that he is all right.”

Gabriel was dead, not across the world in India as he had been. Did his mother not understand the difference? Or was it easier for her to believe that in death, Gabriel wasn’t so far away. Perhaps not even as far as India. “I don’t think it’s wise for you to go tonight,” he said softly.

She clasped her hands in her lap and pursed her lips at him. “This is why I didn’t invite you. I know you don’t support this endeavor.”

“It isn’t that.” At least it wasn’t entirely. “I don’t think you should attend a séance where the last medium to hold one there was murdered.”

His mother’s eyes rounded, and her jaw dropped. “I had not considered that.” She lifted one hand to her chest. “Oh, dear. Should I not go? What if you come with me?”

“It doesn’t bother you to go where someone was killed?”

“You don’t have to keep saying that,” she said with a look of distress.

“Mama, if it bothers you to hear this, think how you will feel when you walk into the house this evening.”

She fell silent, her gaze dropping to the table as her features creased with contemplation. Hadrian hoped he hadn’t upset her. That had not been his intent.

At last, she lifted her gaze to his. Her eyes were surprisingly clear. “I must go. Before I no longer have the chance to speak with Gabriel. You must come with me. Please, Hadrian.”

Hadrian could not ignore the desperation in her plea, nor the sense that she was trying to grasp something that was lost. If she believed she’d spoken with Gabriel, perhaps she could finally put this behind her. Against his better judgment, he nodded. “All right.”

“You should invite Miss Wren so that the numbers are even. Or Tilda, I suppose.” She arched her brows at him.

Oh, hell. Why was she using Tilda’s given name?

His mother took another sip of tea. As she set the cup back in its saucer, she asked, “What is between the two of you? I have the sense you’ve grown close, and now you’re calling her by her given name. And not even the full, formal one. Isn’t she Matilda?”

Hadrian swallowed. He realized he had called her Tilda a few moments ago. “Yes. We are friends, and yes, we call each other by our given names. It’s … easier.”

“I’m glad to hear you are only friends.”

Only friends. Hadrian wasn’t glad about that at all. He thought of Tilda’s concern the day before and how she’d put him at ease. He realized he still longed for something more, for the chance, at least, to determine if they might be romantically suited. Could he ever persuade her to try?