Page 12 of A Whisper at Midnight

Hadrian closed the door to the servants’ stairwell. “Do you have the sense the retainers are holding something back?”

“Perhaps. They seem guarded—the cook and the housekeeper anyway.” She glanced at Hadrian’s hands. “You aren’t wearing gloves. Have you been able to see or feel anything helpful?”

“In fact, I had a vision in Chambers’ bedchamber.”

“Teague allowed you inside?” she asked.

“Not really. But he needed a light to see under the bed, so I provided him with a lantern.” He didn’t bother telling her about the vision that had provoked, but he shared what he’d seen when he touched the bed, including the feelings of desire the woman had felt.

Tilda’s cheeks tinged faintly pink. “How odd for you to have to feel such things. Which hand of hers did you see?”

Hadrian thought back. “The left.” Details were so important, revelatory even, and Tilda was always focused on them.

“Was there a ring on her finger?”

“No.” It wasn’t Beryl then. She wore a wedding ring on her left hand.

“Then it was not Mrs. Chambers. Although, I wouldn’t have guessed it to be her. She hasn’t shared her husband’s bed in nearly three years. Though I suppose you could be seeing a memory from years ago. We know that’s possible.”

Indeed it was, as Hadrian had seen memories going back more than thirty years. “Chamberswasa philanderer as well as cruel then.”

“Mrs. Chambers believes he was having an affair, and she will need to prove adultery to have any hope of securing a divorce.” Tilda glanced toward the study. “Not that she needs a divorce any longer.”

If Hadrian could be a potential suspect, so could Beryl. In fact, she’d be a greater one than him, probably. “I don’t think Beryl killed him.” The words fell from him before he realized he meant to say them.

Tilda snapped her gaze to his. “Why not? It doesn’t seem you know her very well.”

“I knew her once, and I would not have betrothed myself to a murderess.”

“I doubt you intended to marry an unfaithful woman either,” Tilda said wryly.

“Your point is well made.” Though it rankled him. “Beryl may not be the most faithful person I’ve known, but she is not a killer.”

A man came from the stairwell they’d just left. He glanced at Tilda and Hadrian but didn’t stop. He appeared to be in a hurry, his face flushed as he strode into the study.

Hadrian exchanged a glance with Tilda, and they wordlessly followed the unknown man.

“How did he die?” the unknown man, who was tall and lanky, his dark hair falling over his forehead, asked Teague.

Beryl stood nearby, fidgeting her hands at her waist. “This is my husband’s valet, Massey.”

“We will need to ask you some questions,” Teague said to the valet.

“I need to see Mr. Chambers first,” the valet insisted.

Beryl moved to touch the valet’s arm. “Massey, he is gone.”

The valet shook her hand from him and turned his head to direct his glower at her. “I’m sure you’re thrilled.” His lip curled.

Hadrian stepped toward the valet. “There’s no call for such behavior in this moment. It’s a sad and shocking time for all.”

Massey looked Hadrian up and down. “Who the devil are you?”

“Ravenhurst,” Hadrian replied succinctly.

The valet’s dark eyes popped, and his jaw dropped briefly. “You?”

“Do you know the earl?” Teague asked, his brow creasing with interest.