Page 80 of A Whisper at Midnight

They proceeded to the coach where Hadrian informed Leach of their next stop.

Once they were inside the vehicle and moving, Tilda looked eagerly toward Hadrian, waiting for him to describe his vision in the shop. It was moments like these, and the one outside the coach, that he enjoyed the most with her—the shared excitementof new information, the partnership of them working toward the same goal.

“As soon as I touched the display case, I felt overwhelming frustration and outrage. Then disgust.” He stopped. “I’m getting ahead of myself. The disgust came with something in the vision. I saw Louis Chambers—in the shop. His expression was seductive, similar to what I’d seen in the visions in his bedchamber.”

“I am very sorry you keep seeingthat,” Tilda said sardonically.

“As am I. Thankfully, this time it didn’t last long. He was advancing on the person whose memory I was seeing, but he stopped and his expression turned to anger. He said something, but of course I couldn’t hear him. Then he was pushed.”

“By you?” Tilda asked anxiously. “Rather, the person whose memory you saw.”

“Yes. I glimpsed the hands, and they were feminine. I did not see any rings on her fingers, but that doesn’t mean there weren’t any, for it all happened very quickly. Chambers moved toward her again, his features menacing. Then he abruptly turned and left in a huff.”

“Who could that have been?” Tilda asked.

“Since this happened in the shop, I suspect it was Mrs. Pollard. That’s why I thought you’d be even more interested in her.”

Tilda sat back against the squab, her expression contemplative. “I don’t want to assume it’s her, but it seems likely. I wonder what was happening. Was he trying to seduce her?”

“That is certainly something we can expect from him at this point,” Hadrian said wryly.

A shudder passed through Tilda, and she made a face. “What a horrid man. It’s bad enough he took advantage of hisemployees, but to attempt to seduce his partner’s wife? The man had no scruples whatsoever.”

Hadrian hadn’t possessed strong feelings for the man when he was alive, but he did now. He was sorrier than ever that poor Beryl had fallen for his charm, not that he’d ever seen the man display any. “More and more, it seems any number of people would have good cause to wish him dead.”

“I think Mrs. Pollard has now joined that group. She certainly seems to detest him, and I can see why. Not only had he caused disruption to their livelihood, but he also likely made advances toward her.” Tilda’s lip curled.

“Does this not also increase Pollard’s potential as the murderer?” Hadrian asked. “If I learned my business partner had tried to seduce my wife, I would be very angry.”

Tilda arched her brow at him. “Angry enough to kill?”

“I can’t say, for I do not actually have a wife.”

“You had a fiancée, and someonedidseduce her,” Tilda pointed out. “And no, I am not saying I suspect you of murdering Louis Chambers. I am merely pointing out that there is a line between being angry and wanting to kill someone.”

“You make a valid point. There is a line, and I wasn’t even close to it. Perhaps that is because I didn’t love Beryl. If I had, would I have been closer to the line or even over it?” He couldn’t answer that. He hadn’t ever been in love. He’d yet to meet a woman who provoked such a visceral emotion within him.

Or had he? He recalled the ferocity of his need to protect Tilda when a murderer had lunged for her just over a week ago. There had been no line to cross. Hadrian simply would have done whatever was necessary to keep her safe.

“Pollard seems to love his wife,” Tilda said. “Perhaps that is motivation enough.”

The coach stopped in front of Flanders Millinery. Hadrian didn’t wait for Leach to open the door. He did so himself and climbed down, then helped Tilda to the pavement.

They were able to see Flanders and learn that Madame Ousset had a shop just a little farther down Regent Street.

“Shall we walk?” Tilda asked as they exited the milliner.

“It is no longer raining, so why not?” It had rained right up to when he’d arrived at Tilda’s house earlier. Hadrian informed Leach of where they were going, and the coachman said he would move the carriage to their location whilst they completed their errand.

“Do you suppose she’s as French as her name?” Tilda asked as they made their way along Regent Street.

“Probably not. At one time, a French modiste was all the rage for the aristocracy, even though we supposedly despised the French.”

“You upper-class types are strange,” she said with a laugh.

“Some of us even have odd, inexplicable powers.” He waggled his brows at her, and her mirth continued.

They reached Madame Ousset’s shop, and Hadrian held the door for Tilda. The interior was most elegant with bolts of fabric on display and a few seating areas where ladies sat perusing fashion plates.