Page 118 of A Whisper at Midnight

“If you require it, I would be delighted. I confess, I am somewhat jealous as I’ve developed an affinity for investigation. With you, anyway.” He looked away abruptly. “How is your grandmother?” he asked quickly, as if he wanted to distract Tilda from what he’d said. There was no need, for she didn’t want to think about how much she enjoyed investigating with him too.

“Good afternoon!” Hadrian’s mother sailed into the room in a flurry of dark-yellow silk. “Miss Wren, you are here, how lovely.” She smiled broadly, and Tilda saw the similarity in mother and son, primarily in the shape and color of their eyes.

Tilda dipped into a brief curtsey. “Good afternoon, Lady Ravenhurst. I am honored you would seek my services.”

“It is a delicate matter, and since you have helped Ravenhurst before, I am hopeful you can help me too.” She went to Hadrian and bussed his cheek. “Afternoon, my boy. I trust your arm is no longer paining you?”

“It hardly pained me at all, Mother,” he said with a patient smile.

“What a nasty business to have been shot,” the dowager countess said with a cluck of her tongue. “There shall be none of that with what I am hiring you to do,” she said to Tilda before taking a seat at the table where tea had been laid out. “Do I need to pour?” She looked at Hadrian and then at Tilda.

“I can,” Tilda offered, though she wondered why she’d felt the need. She wasn’t the hostess here. Perhaps she thought an earl shouldn’t pour tea, which was silly. As she poured into their cups, she had an eerie sensation, almost as if she were watchingherself at the tea table. She didn’t belong in an earl’s drawing room pouring tea, for heaven’s sake.

She added milk and sugar to their cups as they directed, then added a bit of sugar to her own before sitting. As Hadrian sat along with her, she belatedly realized she ought to have sat to pour. Further proof that she had no business in this environment. And yet, she needed to learn if she intended to have clients such as the dowager Countess of Ravenhurst.

Hadrian sipped his tea, then fixed his gaze on his mother. “I am on tenterhooks waiting to hear why you need Miss Wren’s help.”

“I don’t want to hear any admonishment about any of this,” she said sternly to him. “Do you understand?”

Appearing alarmed, Hadrian frowned slightly. “Of course, but such a warning does not herald a sense of comfort.”

“I just don’t want you to counsel me,” the dowager added with a sniff.

“I will not, Mama.”

Lady Ravenhurst turned to Tilda. “I have recently begun consulting with a medium.”

Hadrian had taken a drink of tea and now coughed.

The dowager glanced at him with slightly narrowed eyes before returning her attention to Tilda. “She says she can communicate with Gabriel. Miss Wren, I want you to determine if she is authentic.”

Tilda slid a look toward Hadrian and noted that his neck was red above his collar. His lips were pressed together as if he were trying very hard not to speak. Whilst she could understand his agitation—the notion of speaking with the dead was ludicrous—she also needed to listen to her client.

Unless she decided that she couldn’t help the dowager. Just as Tilda didn’t work for men who sought divorces, she wouldn’tundertake an investigation she didn’t think she could do. And authenticating a medium may very well fall into that category.

Except.

Except Hadrian saw visions that could not be explained. What if this mediumcouldspeak with the dead? Didn’t Tilda at least have to try to find answers? Indeed, she was eager to.

Furthermore, Hadrian must help her. Perhaps this medium could even helphimwith his ability.

Tilda smiled at Hadrian’s mother. “I will be glad to help, Lady Ravenhurst. Allow me to take notes whilst you provide the necessary details.”

She risked another look at Hadrian who was glowering in her direction. He was not happy that Tilda had accepted this challenge.

It would be up to her to convince him that it was necessary—for his mother and for him.