Page 112 of A Whisper at Midnight

“Out the front door.” The woman gestured toward the entrance hall, her hand shaking. “Your … whoever followed her.” She stared at his arm. “You’re bleeding. Did someone fire a pistol?” The housekeeper’s face lost even more color, and Hadrian feared she may faint.

Hadrian speared her with an intense stare. “You must remain calm. I need you to go up to Mrs. Styles-Rowdon’s dressing room to help Mrs. Chambers. She hit her head and is bleeding. The police will be here shortly.” Hadrian did not wait for the housekeeper’s reply before dashing outside. He didn’t even bother to close the door behind him.

He looked up and down the street, then froze for a moment as he saw Tilda sitting atop Mrs. Styles-Rowdon on the pavement just past Beryl’s house. His arm ached fiercely, but he ran toward the two women.

When he reached them, he stood so Tilda could see him. “Are you all right?”

Tilda nodded. She was breathing heavily. “I’ve got her.” Indeed she did. She straddled the woman’s hips and held herwrists. Mrs. Styles-Rowdon lay on her back, moving angrily as she sought to free herself.

“Stop,” Hadrian barked. “You’re caught now.”

Thankfully, the police wagon turned the corner onto Catherine Place at precisely that moment. Hadrian exhaled with relief. “The police are here now.”

“Let me up!” Mrs. Styles-Rowdon fought harder as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

“No,” Tilda replied calmly, though Hadrian could see her pulse hammering in her neck.

The police wagon pulled up alongside the pavement, and Hadrian saw that Leach was behind them. Teague jumped down from the seat, and two constables came from the wagon.

The detective inspector registered Hadrian’s arm with a frown. “All right there, Ravenhurst?”

“I will be. Help Tilda up, please.”

Teague nodded for the constables to grab Mrs. Styles-Rowdon. When they had hold of her arms, Tilda released her and allowed Teague to help her up.

Tilda immediately went to Hadrian and looked at his arm. “We need to staunch this bleeding.” She whipped her gloves off and pressed them to the wound. “It’s the best I have at the moment.” Relief tinged her features.

Leach ran toward them. “My lord?” He appeared stricken.

“Fetch a physician,” Hadrian said. “I’ve been shot, and Mrs. Chambers hit her head and is bleeding.”

“Is she?” Tilda asked. “I should have stayed to help.”

Hadrian shook his head and immediately regretted it. Tilda touched his cheek. The touch of her bare hand was both soothing and stirring. He could not look away from the tender concern in her gaze.

“Your head,” she whispered. “It must be paining you along with your arm. I know you saw something when you grabbed Mrs. Styles-Rowdon.”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” he said softly, giving her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine.”

As Leach left to find a physician, Teague turned to address them. “I gather Mrs. Styles-Rowdon is, in fact, our poisoner.”

“Yes,” Tilda replied. “She was baking cinnamon biscuits for Beryl back in January which coincided with when Beryl was ill. She brings them in a tin, and Clara says she saw a tin in Louis Chambers’ bedroom recently.”

Teague nodded. “As it happens, I was preparing to come here to speak with her when your coachman arrived, Ravenhurst. I received further information from the Portsmouth Police. It seems Mrs. Styles-Rowdon collected on an insurance policy on her former husband. What’s more, she also collected insurance money on her first husband, Mr. Styles, and from her parents, all of whom died of gastrointestinal illness.”

Mrs. Styles-Rowdon made a noise in her throat before her head lolled forward. She had not lost consciousness, but she’d gone limp in the constables’ grip.

Tilda glanced about, and Hadrian realized several of the neighbors had come out of their houses to watch the spectacle. “Should we move inside?”

“I will take her to Scotland Yard, but I would like to speak with Mrs. Chambers first,” Teague said.

“Then let us repair to Mrs. Styles-Rowdon’s house,” Tilda suggested.

As they passed Beryl’s house, her staff stood on the front porch. “Where is Mrs. Chambers?” Clara asked.

“Come with us,” Tilda said. “She hurt her head and will likely need care.”

“I’ll fetch some things from downstairs,” Mrs. Dunning said sternly before hurrying back into the house.