Page 60 of A Whisper at Midnight
“Did you invite her to join us for tea as I suggested?” the dowager countess asked. She’d met Tilda a fortnight ago when she was last here.
Blast.How was he to explain Tilda’s presence without mentioning the investigation they were working on? The one where she was working to prove he was innocent of killing Beryl’s husband. Could he really hope to keep it secret from her?
“I did not.” He exhaled. “As it happens, Miss Wren is conducting an investigation into Chambers’ death, and I am assisting her.” He would leave out the part about him being a suspect, for his mother would only worry unnecessarily.
Hadrian looked at Collier, who was standing in the doorway, his features a mask of disinterest. “Please show Miss Wren up.”
Inclining his head in silent response, the butler pivoted and departed.
“You must have spoken to Beryl. Why wouldn’t you say so?” The dowager countess pursed her lips at him.
“I didn’t want to discuss the matter with you.” Hadrian spoke with an edge, hoping it would deter her from prodding further.
“Because you didn’t want to talk about Beryl or your missed opportunity at marriage,” his mother said with considerable exasperation.
“It was not a ‘missed opportunity.’”
His mother took a drink of tea and fumed at him over the edge of the cup. “You have avoided discussing marriage since then.”
Hadrian tried to avoid discussing it, but his mother continued to ensure they did. “It hasn’t interested me, and it still doesn’t.”
Throwing her hands up, she made a sound low in her throat. “You can be so very frustrating on this matter. You need an heir. Do you want your cousin to inherit?” She didn’t wait for his reply as she barreled onward. “If only your brother hadn’t died. I’m sure he would be wed by now. Then I needn’t worry about you.”
Hadrian’s insides twisted. His mother rarely mentioned her youngest child, Gabriel, but when she did, he never failed to react viscerally. Gabriel’s death in India just a year after their father had died had been a blow to the family.
Indeed, HadrianknewGabriel would be married by now. He’d written to Hadrian before he’d become ill saying he’d fallen in love and hoped to marry, if her family would permit it. Hadrian had never told his mother about it, thinking the knowledge would only make her sadder about losing her child.
Hadrian realized Tilda was standing just inside the threshold of the drawing room, clutching her reticule. Fine lines creased her forehead, revealing her concern. Had she heard what hismother had said about Gabriel? Hadrian hadn’t ever discussed his youngest sibling with Tilda.
Standing, Hadrian welcomed Tilda. “Please, come join us.”
Tilda walked hesitantly toward the table near the windows where his mother was still seated. “Good afternoon, Lady Ravenhurst.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Wren. How pleasant to see you again. I understand you’re helping dear Beryl Chambers with the great tragedy that has befallen her.”
That was not what Hadrian had said at all. He’d said they were investigating. He gritted his teeth.
“I am,” Tilda replied with a nod. “In fact, I’ve come to speak to … Lord Ravenhurst about a development. I’m sorry to interrupt.” Had she been about to refer to him by his given name? Hadrian was glad she had not, for that would have piqued his mother’s curiosity to no end.
Tilda must have important news to share. Hadrian’s pulse ticked up, and he hoped his mother would realize she ought to go. However, that seemed unlikely. She was likely annoyed that their tea had been disturbed.
“You are more than welcome,” his mother said with enthusiasm.
A maid entered with another tea setting and deposited it on the table before taking her leave.
“Thank you,” Tilda said as she took one of the empty chairs at the table, which put her between Hadrian and his mother.
The dowager countess poured Tilda’s tea as Hadrian retook his seat. He hoped his mother would leave soon, for he was anxious to hear Tilda’s news.
“I am fascinated that you are a private investigator,” his mother said whilst stirring sugar into her tea. “What an awful situation for Beryl.” His mother wrinkled her nose as if she weresmelling the worst sort of offal. “I can’t imagine why you’d want to involve yourself in something so unpleasant.”
“I enjoy investigative work, my lady,” Tilda said pleasantly. “My father was a sergeant with the Metropolitan Police.”
“Ah yes, Hadrian had mentioned that. And that your grandfather was a well-known magistrate. Still, you don’t find a … murder to be distasteful?”
“I find murder to be abominable, which is why I am eager to bring the responsible party to justice,” Tilda said evenly.
“That is most … enterprising of you. What does your family think of you doing that?”