Page 2 of A Whisper at Midnight

Tilda smiled. “Good afternoon, I am Miss Wren. I believe Mrs. Chambers is expecting me.”

“Indeed.” He opened the door wider for her to step into the marble-tiled entrance hall. “If you’ll follow me.”

The butler led her into the staircase hall and up the stairs. While the furnishings appeared well made and elegant, the interior was not as grand as Tilda had anticipated. There weren’t many paintings on the walls, and the décor was minimal. Perhaps her expectations had been somewhat tainted by her recent visit to the excessively opulent Northumberland House where she’d attended an event with Hadrian several days ago.

In truth, she felt far more comfortable here than somewhere like Northumberland House or Hadrian’s residence, Ravenhurst House. She was not at all used to excess, even if her mother had often spent money that Tilda had later realized they didn’t have. Her mother liked nice things—clothing and accessories, linens, and furnishings. When Tilda’s father died, there’d been debt that her mother had accumulated, which Tilda’s grandfather had resolved, in part by selling many of those furnishings. That experience was a primary reason that Tilda refused to take on debt and chose to live as economically as possible.

Tilda refocused her thoughts as the butler took her to the drawing room. A woman—Mrs. Chambers, presumably—stood from a chair in the central seating area. Actually, it was the only seating area, though there were a few chairs scattered aboutthe perimeter of the room and a chaise in one corner. Mrs. Chambers nodded toward the butler, who departed, then fixed her attention on Tilda.

“Good afternoon, I am Miss Wren,” Tilda said, walking farther into the room to join her new client.

“I’m so pleased you’ve come,” Mrs. Chambers said, her answering smile tentative and perhaps a trifle nervous. She was beautiful, with chocolate-brown hair and wide, amber-brown eyes. Delicate brows arched prettily, and her cheekbones were high and defined. Small, pink bow-shaped lips pursed gently as she gestured to another chair. Tilda could see why Hadrian would have been attracted to her. Assuming he had been. They hadn’t discussed that either, and there was absolutely no reason they should.

Mrs. Chambers’ gaze moved over Tilda and did not immediately focus on her. It was a slight reaction, but Tilda understood that her garb was outdated and that a woman like Mrs. Chambers might judge Tilda by her appearance.

“Would you care to sit?” Mrs. Chambers asked.

“Thank you.” Tilda lowered herself onto the cushion, then she removed a notebook and pencil from her reticule. “I will take notes whilst we talk,” she said. “Mr. Forrest has told me about your situation. I am sorry you are in a position where you feel dissolving your marriage is your only option. I know that cannot have been easy for you to decide.”

“It was not, particularly when so many people told me not to wed him,” Mrs. Chambers said bitterly, her expression one of angry defeat.

Tilda knew Hadrian had caught Mrs. Chambers kissing her current husband. Had Chambers coerced her? Would she have preferred to wed Hadrian but realized she could not after he’d witnessed her in a compromising position?

While those were interesting questions, Tilda needed to make sure she was adhering to the investigation and not satisfying her personal curiosity. “Why was that?”

Mrs. Chambers exhaled, her features drawing down into a near pout. “It’s a tedious story. Suffice it to say I was seduced by Louis and ended up with little choice in the matter. How I wish things had gone differently.”

Overall, that was a vague recounting of whatever had happened, particularly since Mrs. Chambers didn’t know that Tilda was aware of how thingscouldhave gone. Tilda decided it was worthwhile to learn how her client’s marriage had started and progressed to where it was now. “Did you not want to marry him?”

Taking a moment to respond, Mrs. Chambers seemed to have difficulty finding the words. “I did. However, I was fooled by him. I was swept up by his flattery and passion. That had seemed important to me.”

“You say you were fooled,” Tilda said. “Can I assume that flattery and passion did not continue?”

“They did not,” Mrs. Chambers replied firmly. “After several months, perhaps a year, I sensed his disinterest. Over time, that turned into dislike and our relationship became rather contentious. I think we both regret marrying one another, unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry you regret your marriage.” Regardless of how Tilda might feel about Mrs. Chambers throwing Hadrian over for her husband, she had great sympathy for a woman who felt trapped. Whowastrapped. “You do know how difficult it is to obtain a divorce, even now?”

“I do,” Mrs. Chambers said with a nod. “But I must try. Perhaps then my family will forgive me and welcome me back. Though I don’t hold much hope. They will likely shun me again, this time because I divorced.”

Tilda’s pity for the woman increased, and she decided she would help her, despite Mrs. Chambers’ history with Hadrian. “I will also hope they embrace you,” Tilda said. “The life of a divorced woman is difficult. Do you have a plan for what you will do if you are successful?” She didn’t addif your family doesn’t welcome you back, but that was the second part of that question.

“Not really.” She regarded Tilda with a fiery gaze. “He should have to provide me with a settlement, shouldn’t he? That is only fair since he received my dowry, not to mention the way he has treated me. He is unfaithful and he is … rough.” She dipped her head down to look at her lap.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tilda said. “Mr. Forrest did tell me about those things, but I am here to gather the specific details. Do you want to talk about Mr. Chambers’ infidelity first, or would you prefer to show me how he’s hurt you?”

Mrs. Chambers’ shoulders twitched. “Mr. Forrest said you would look at the bruises on my arms. Louis grabs me roughly and throws me down or pushes me. I have a cut on my head from the last time. I grazed the edge of a dresser before I hit the floor.” She lifted her hands to her dark hair and gingerly felt along the front left quadrant of her head. “Here.” She pulled her hair apart.

Tilda stood and went to look down at the exposed part of the woman’s scalp. There was a small, scabbed wound. “I see it. When did this happen?”

“Four days ago,” Mrs. Chambers replied.

Retaking her seat, Tilda wrote down the date the injury occurred and asked Mrs. Chambers to detail exactly what had happened. She waited expectantly as Mrs. Chambers lowered her hands to her lap.

She fidgeted her fingers a moment before meeting Tilda’s gaze. “I’d finally confronted him about his infidelity. I asked withwhom he was having a liaison, but he only laughed at me and accused me of doing the same, which is ludicrous.”

Was it? Mrs. Chambers had been unfaithful to the man to whom she was betrothed.

Tilda would not make judgments. At least not yet. She was merely collecting information—and she could not trust that everything Mrs. Chambers said was the truth even if it was sympathetic. It was certainly only Mrs. Chambers’ perspective. “Why do you suspect his betrayal?”