Page 107 of A Whisper at Midnight

“You pull that and somehow Leach magically appears with the coach?” she asked with a smile.

He laughed as he returned to his chair. “If only it worked like that. That rings a bell downstairs, and Collier or Mrs. Kenworth will come see what I need.”

Collier appeared in the doorway, and Hadrian asked him to have the coach brought round.

Hadrian returned his attention to Tilda. “Our plan then is for me to occupy Mrs. Styles-Rowdon so you can search herbedchamber for Beryl’s missing rubies. What will you do if you find them?”

“I don’t plan to take them. I’ll inform Teague that she is in fact Louis’s paramour. That would mean she has a dead husband and a dead lover who were both being poisoned—potentially.”

“But why would she kill them?” Hadrian asked.

“The obvious answer would be financial gain.”

“If she inherits her husband’s wealth, I see the motive. Though I wonder why she needed to kill her husband, unless she was seeking independence. Or she simply didn’t like him.” His brows drew together. “What would she gain with Louis’s death?”

“That is a very good question. He was giving her jewelry and spending extravagant amounts of money on her. Though it seemed he was rapidly losing the ability to do that.” Tilda leaned forward slightly. “Louis supposedly wanted to divorce Beryl. Had he planned to wed Mrs. Styles-Rowdon? Perhaps she realized he would not be the wealthy husband she’d thought him to be.”

“I still don’t understand why she would need to poison him.”

Tilda arched a brow. “As you said with regard to Mrs. Styles-Rowdon, perhaps she, like so many others, simply didn’t like him.”

Hadrian chuckled. “ThatI would believe.”

Ashort while later, they arrived at Beryl’s house. Oswald admitted them and said Beryl was in the parlor.

Beryl welcomed them from the settee. “Join me for tea. Oswald, please have Mrs. Blank bring more cups.”

The butler disappeared, and Hadrian waited for the ladies to sit before taking the chair next to Tilda’s. They sat across from Beryl.

“Forgive me,” Beryl said. “I’m afraid I’ve just finished the last of Gillian’s delicious cinnamon biscuits. I have missed them so. There is lemon cake, however.”

Tilda’s brow creased. “Mrs. Styles-Rowdon brought you those biscuits?”

Hadrian now recalled that she had done so. The neighbor had brought a tin the day the inquest had been postponed. His blood chilled. That was food from outside the house, and Mrs. Styles-Rowdon was a known poisoner—if his visions were to be believed. And so far, they had not been wrong.

“Yes, she used to bring them frequently, but it’s been some time,” Beryl explained. “She says it’s her secret recipe. It’s the brandy that makes them so delicious. Or so Gillian told me the first time she brought them. Goodness, when was that?” Beryl thought a moment. “Ah yes, the day after Epiphany. We’d had a dinner party and invited Gillian. She brought the biscuits to thank me. That was the beginning of our friendship.”

“But she stopped bringing you biscuits?” Tilda asked. “When was that?”

Beryl cocked her head. “I’m not sure.”

“Was she bringing you biscuits whilst you were ill?” Tilda pressed. She leaned slightly forward, her gaze intensely focused on Beryl.

“No,” Beryl said quickly. But then her eyes narrowed briefly. “Actually, it may have been.”

The reason for their visit faded with this revelation—at least to Hadrian. Did Tilda feel the same? It seemed they had proof that Mrs. Styles-Rowdon was likely poisoning Beryl. But why?

Tilda looked toward Hadrian, and he had his answer.

Beryl, meanwhile, had gone white as cream.

Mrs. Blank entered then with the teacups for Tilda and Hadrian. She set them on the tray, which sat atop a table that had been moved near the settee and the chair where Tilda sat.

The housekeeper paused as she looked at Beryl. “Are you all right, Mrs. Chambers?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly.

“She’s fine,” Tilda said to the housekeeper with a smile. “It has been a trying week.”