Page 48 of A Whisper at Midnight

Tilda’s nostrils flared. “She was with child?”

“Looked to be. I can spot ’em.” The prostitute tapped her face next to her right eye. “I see everythin’.”

“What else did ye see?” Tilda asked. “Anyone visit ’er?”

The prostitute put her hand on her hip and her gaze turned skeptical. “Why do you want to know?”

“She worked with a friend o’ mine, and I said I’d try to find out what ’appened to ’er.” Tilda spoke casually, as if she weren’t hungry for every piece of information she could gather. But Hadrian knew differently.

“Told you everythin’ I saw,” the prostitute said, her focus moving past them. “Fancy coach you got there.” She narrowed her eyes at Hadrian. “You steal that too?”

“Belongs to me employer,” Tilda snapped. She grabbed Hadrian’s arm and turned, stalking quickly to the coach.

She paused at the door and spoke to Leach. “We’re going up the street about five houses. You’ll let us out again, but then you’ll need to keep moving. This coach is drawing too much attention.”

“I can’t leave you here,” Leach said as he cast a glance toward the prostitutes who were watching them with interest.

“You’ll give us fifteen minutes and return. We’ll be sure to be done by then.” Tilda took his hand and stepped into the coach.

Leach looked at Hadrian in question. “You heard her.” He followed Tilda inside and sat down beside her. The coach began moving almost immediately. Leach was in a hurry, and Hadrian was grateful for that. He wanted to minimize their time here in Flower and Dean Street.

Hadrian looked over at Tilda. “You are frighteningly good at transforming into a different person entirely. You could have a career on the stage.”

“But there is no investigation in that career,” she said with a smile. “I hope you weren’t too offended by the prostitute’s proposal.”

“Not at all. I was too preoccupied with my surprise.”

Tilda laughed lightly as the coach came to a stop. “I’d like to confirm Martha’s pregnancy with the lodging house owner if we can.”

Leach opened the door, and Hadrian climbed down. He helped Tilda out and said to Leach that they’d see him in a quarter hour.

As the coach pulled away, Hadrian felt a slight nip of anxiety. He turned to the house with Tilda. “Is this it?”

She inclined her head toward the hook hanging near the door. “Looks to be.”

“Do I still need to look intimidating?” he asked.

“No, your name should take care of that. Just be yourself—the Earl of Ravenhurst. Say you are asking after Martha because she used to work in your household.”

He nodded. “Who are you then?”

She straightened her shoulders, her attention on the house, a brick-and-timber structure in need of maintenance. “Your housekeeper.”

“Why not my wife?”

Tilda snapped her gaze to his, her lips pursing. She glanced down at herself. “My garments are not as fine as yours. I look more like your housekeeper than your wife.”

Hadrian wanted to argue, but it was true. Her gown was of a decent quality, but it was outmoded and not at all something a young countess would be wearing. He exhaled in frustration.He didn’t like that they looked as though they didn’t belong together. “Mrs. Wren, then.”

They walked to the door, and he knocked. A moment later, it opened to reveal a woman in her middle thirties. She wore an apron and a cap atop a pinned-up mass of frizzy dark hair. Her gaze moved over them, lingering on Hadrian before narrowing her eyes. “What do ye want?”

“I’m inquiring about the lodger who died here last night,” Hadrian said. “I am Lord Ravenhurst, and Miss Farrow once worked in my household.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Do ye want to come in, your lordship?”

Hadrian gave her a mild smile. “If you don’t mind. This is my housekeeper, Mrs. Wren.”

The woman closed the door after they moved into the dim entrance hall. “I’m Mrs. Jefford. We feel badly about what ’appened to Miss Farrow, but it weren’t our fault. She must ’ave tripped. Ye know ’ow it can be when you’re carryin’ a babe. You can be clumsy sometimes.” Her eyes rounded once more. “You likelydon’tknow that.”