Page 57 of A Whisper and a Curse (Raven & Wren #3)

“Splendid!” Grandmama’s eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. “You will be busy, I think. But then, you were quite busy during your last investigation.” She exhaled. “I am so relieved that is over and that none of these new cases involve murder .”

“I am too, Grandmama.” Tilda was glad to have work that didn’t require someone to have died, though her cases seemed to start that way and then veer into murder.

Her grandmother gave her a pointed stare. “Remember, make sure Hadrian doesn’t leave until I return.”

Tilda smiled. “I will, Grandmama.”

She departed and Tilda reread the inquiry she’d just received.

The woman suspected her former housekeeper had stolen some silver.

Tilda would start with tracking down the housekeeper.

But first, she would meet with the woman who’d written to her and establish her fee.

She planned to collect a deposit before beginning work for anyone.

Lost in thought, she did not hear Hadrian arrive. Vaughn announced his presence at the doorway to the parlor.

Tilda stood to greet him. “Afternoon, Hadrian. Come in.”

He’d already removed his hat and given it to Vaughn. However, he still wore his gloves. “Good afternoon, Tilda. I’m pleased to see you. It’s always an adjustment to be apart after spending so much time together during an investigation.”

“I agree.” Tilda had missed him. But she didn’t say so.

Hadrian moved to the table where she’d been seated a moment earlier. They sat, and Tilda explained that he would need to linger long enough to see her grandmother.

He chuckled. “I would be delighted.”

“How is your mother?” Tilda asked. When they’d visited her the week before and delivered the news about the murders, as well as the imminent closure of the London Spiritualism Society, she’d been glad to hear the killers had been caught but hadn’t decided whether she would consult another medium.

“I saw her yesterday, and we had a nice conversation. She has decided not to find a new medium.” Hadrian smiled at Mrs. Acorn as she entered with the tea tray. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Acorn. I trust you are well.”

“Quite, my lord. It’s been a boon to have Clara with us. And if Tilda continues to receive inquiries at the rate she has been, who knows what other changes may abound?”

The housekeeper flashed a gleeful smile before departing.

Tilda poured the tea.

“You’ve received inquiries?” Hadrian asked, at last removing his gloves.

She nodded as she added cream and sugar to their cups. “They are mostly from women seeking help finding stolen items.”

He grinned. “You must be thrilled. I am. For you, I mean.”

“I am very pleased.” She considered telling him about the obnoxious letters she had also received but ultimately decided it didn’t matter. No one had threatened her. They’d just been disparaging.

“If you ever require my assistance—in any way—with your searches for stolen items, I hope you will ask. I am more than eager to help.”

“I appreciate that, thank you. Your ability is incredibly useful.” Tilda sipped her tea.

Hadrian had also taken a drink of tea and now set his cup back on the saucer. Tilda couldn’t help watching his hand. It was odd, but when he’d taken tea here before, which he’d done on a few occasions, she hadn’t considered whether he’d experienced a memory when he touched the teacup.

“What is it?” Hadrian asked.

Tilda shook her head. “I was fixated on your hand. Rather, I was wondering if you saw anything when you touched the cup. Or if you have in the past.”

“I think I once had a fleeting vision of your grandmother, but there has been nothing strong.” His brow furrowed.

“I’ve been paying more attention to what I see—when and for how long, as well as the depth of the vision.

It’s hard to explain. Some of them—many, in fact—are just a quick impression.

Others are fuller and more real, if that makes any sense. ”

“It does actually.” Tilda smiled. “It sounds as though you are coming to understand this ability better and perhaps even manage it?”

“I am trying. It certainly helped to speak with Captain Vale.” He moved a biscuit to a small plate and set it in front of him. “As it happens, I’ve been away from London a few days. I visited my estate in Hampshire. The dower house, specifically.”

Tilda knew his grandmother lived there. He’d mentioned her a few times. “Is your grandmother well?”

“Yes. I wanted to see if I could learn anything about my family and whether anyone had the same ability I do.”

“ Oh. ” Tilda leaned slightly forward, eager to hear what happened. “How did you manage to speak with her about that?”

“I didn’t start by telling her I could experience others’ memories,” he said drily, a smile teasing his mouth. “I asked about my grandfather and his brothers—he had two of them. One of them died rather young. I never knew why.”

Tilda had the sense that was important. “Did you find out?”

“I learned he didn’t die. He was sent to an asylum as a young man, and the family decided it was best to just say he’d died.” Hadrian shook his head. “It’s horrific, really.”

“Why did they send him to an asylum?” Tilda’s flesh prickled. She feared she knew the answer.

“My grandmother didn’t know anything specific, just that he was haunted by seeing things he could not explain. Apparently, he went … mad.” Hadrian looked down and then swept up his teacup for another sip. As he set it back down, Tilda noted his hand shook very slightly.

“You are not mad, Hadrian.”

“I know. At least, I don’t feel mad.” He gave her a half smile. “I was going to tell my mother about my ability yesterday, but I am not quite ready. As you correctly pointed out, I am afraid. But I am less so than I was, and I credit you.”

Tilda could understand him needing time. He was still adjusting to having this supernatural power. “I don’t know what I’ve done.”

“You have been incredibly supportive and considerate,” Hadrian said. “I am fortunate to have someone with whom I could share this distressing malady. Someone who has not judged me or been frightened of me. Someone without whose encouragement and support, I would have surely been lost.”

Hadrian’s gaze held hers, and for a long moment she allowed herself to bask in their shared connection. It was friendship, certainly, but it was perhaps something more. There was admiration and affection. And right now, in this moment—at least for her—an overwhelming desire to embrace.

Tilda put her hand on the table, sliding it toward him. Hadrian did the same, at nearly the same moment. Their fingertips met.

“Pardon me, Miss Wren?” Vaughn interrupted them.

Inhaling sharply, Tilda withdrew her hand as she turned her head toward the doorway. “Yes, Vaughn?”

“An inspector is here to see you.”

“Teague?” Tilda sent a bewildered look toward Hadrian. “I am not expecting him.”

Hadrian shrugged.

“Not Detective Inspector Teague,” Vaughn said. “He said his name was Inspector Maxwell.”

Tilda didn’t recognize the name. “Show him in.” She looked to Hadrian. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all. I could never deny your curiosity.” He winked at her, and she laughed softly.

Tilda rose and Hadrian did the same, moving slightly around the table to join her in facing the new arrival.

Inspector Maxwell entered. He was tall, though not as tall as Hadrian. He held his hat, which left his head bare to reveal thick, light-brown curls. He had a neatly trimmed beard and warm hazel eyes that regarded Tilda with respect. He flicked a glance toward Hadrian.

“Welcome, Inspector,” Tilda said. “Allow me to introduce Lord Ravenhurst.”

The inspector inclined his head toward Hadrian. “Good afternoon, my lord.”

“Good afternoon,” replied Hadrian.

“How can I be of help?” Tilda asked the inspector.

The inspector rotated the hat in his hands. “I’m with the City of London Police. I’ve come to speak with you about a case.”

Tilda’s pulse quickened. Was he here to consult with her?

She didn’t dare to hope that could be true.

Scotland Yard would never do that. But Maxwell was not from the Metropolitan Police.

She decided he was likely there to interview her about something.

“I’m happy to provide whatever information I can to help you. ”

“I didn’t come to interview you,” Maxwell said. Again, he glanced toward Hadrian. He seemed to hesitate.

“I don’t mind you speaking in front of Ravenhurst,” Tilda said, trying not to sound too eager.

But the thought of consulting with a police department was more than she’d ever dreamed.

It occurred to her that Maxwell likely knew of her because of Clement’s article.

Unless Teague had mentioned her, but that assumed this man even knew Teague.

If it was the newspaper article, Maxwell wouldn’t know that Hadrian participated in her investigations. Clement did not include that fact. Tilda added, “The earl is exceptionally discreet. He assists me with most of my investigations, in fact.”

Maxwell’s expression flickered with surprise. “Does he? A woman private investigator is astonishing enough, but I was not prepared for her to have a nobleman as an assistant.”

“And yet she does,” Hadrian said benignly.

The inspector nodded at Hadrian before regarding Tilda once more. “Miss Wren, I am in need of a female investigator, and I am desperately hoping you will consent to help me. I would like you to be my wife.”