Page 37 of A Whisper at Midnight

She shrugged. “At first, it was just because you are an earl. I never imagined I could attract the interest of someone like you. As we became acquainted, I could see you were different than the other men on the Marriage Mart. You are sophisticated and intelligent. Most of all, you seemed genuinely interested in knowing me.”

“Iwasgenuinely interested,” Hadrian said. Thinking back on her behavior then, he could see how she was shy and hesitant at first. She’d lacked the confidence that Tilda possessed. Now he wondered what had attracted him to Beryl in the first place.

He’d found her attractive, and he’d liked that she wasn’t from London. He’d been sought after on the Marriage Mart, mostly for his title, but Beryl hadn’t worked to gain his attention. He’d seen her at a few balls, and no one had danced with her. In those days, he went out of his way to dance with the wallflowers. Even if he decided he wasn’t interested in courting them, they would at least be seen dancing with an earl. Some people cared a great deal about such things.

“You aren’t intimidated anymore, I hope,” he added with a smile.

“No. If I can suffer marriage to Louis, I am made of the sternest stuff, I think.”

Hadrian sobered. “I am truly sorry for all you’ve endured. I had no idea he was so beastly.”

“Nor did I, or I would not have married him, would I?” she asked wryly. “Still, I am sorry he died and in such a ghastly manner. I know a divorce would have been difficult, or perhaps even impossible, but that was what I hoped to achieve. If I’d wanted to kill him, why would I bother with hiring a barrister?”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Hadrian said, lifting his hand. Though hadn’t he begun to consider that she could be guilty of the crime?

Still, hebelievedshe was innocent. Or that she’d been motivated by desperation or some sense of self-defense—he and Tilda had even discussed that.

Perhaps he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge that he would betroth himself to a killer. Except hehadbetrothed himself to someone capable of betrayal.

Hadrian pushed that thought away. “Shall we look at the ledger?”

“Yes.” Beryl pivoted toward the desk. “I confess I only glanced at it to make sure it was the correct book.”

Hadrian sat at the desk, and she took the chair beside it. His head still ached, and he massaged his forehead as he opened the ledger.

After reviewing several pages, he quickly deduced that each page contained entries for a given month. There were the usual household records, though they seemed inconsistent with the retainers’ payments, detailed by person some months and then grouped together in others.

Beryl’s quarterly allowance was documented, and Hadrian could see how it had decreased in the last year. Starting in August, there were payments to Pollard. They were the same for three months, then diminished in November and December. This lessening amount matched what Pollard had told them.

December also contained an entry for “Oliver.”

Hadrian glanced at Beryl. “Why did Louis give his brother twenty pounds?” That was a large sum for someone to part with who was struggling financially.

“I don’t know.” Beryl shrugged, her gaze dipping to the ledger. “Perhaps he wanted to help Oliver after he’d left his post in Kent.”

Hadrian turned to January and saw that there was no entry for Pollard that month. Nor was there one in February. His accounting since the new year was slipshod. There was income in January—his “quarterly interest”—but there was hardly any money left at the start of March. Looking back, Hadrian could not see where all the money had gone. It appeared some payments had not been recorded or had been entered with the wrong amount. Whatever the reason, there didn’t seem to be much money at present.

Beryl leaned close to him. “What is it? You’re frowning.”

Hadrian turned his head toward her and was shocked to see her face just scant inches from his. He could see the golden flecks in her amber-brown eyes. He’d forgotten they were there,but now he was transported back to when he’d held her in his arms and kissed her. That seemed a lifetime ago. He hadn’t thought of her in that way in a very long time. And he found he couldn’t think of her that way now, nor did he want to.

A sound from the doorway made them both turn their heads. Tilda stood there, her features serene, her green eyes leveled on them. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all.” Hadrian stood. He felt distinctly uncomfortable, as if he’d been the one caught in a compromising position, which was silly.

First of all, there was nothing between him and Beryl. Secondly, Tilda wouldn’t be upset if there were. Or would she? Hadrian froze for a moment. Did he have burgeoning romantic feelings toward Tilda?

He might.

Shaking himself internally, Hadrian decided it was far too early to think such things. They hadn’t even been acquainted for a month.

“How did your conversation with Clara go?” Beryl rose from her chair. “Did you put her mind at ease?”

“Somewhat, at least.” Tilda moved farther into the room. “I know this is extremely trying. For all of you.”

Beryl glanced down at the floor. “Yes,” she murmured.

The butler appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Chambers, you’ve a guest. Mrs. Styles-Rowdon is here with her maid and an array of black garments. For now, they are in the parlor.”