Page 82 of A Whisper at Midnight

Hadrian was probably too focused on Tilda, but he couldn’t help himself. He loved to watch her work.

The modiste shrugged. “Joanna is exceptional with a needle and has a keen eye for fashion. However, she is not terribly friendly and has a short temper. At least, that was true when she worked for me. Honestly, it was a relief when she resigned her position,” Madame Ousset said, her shoulders dipping briefly. “She always wanted to be more than a seamstress. Her father was a tailor, and her mother had been a seamstress, though she died relatively young, leaving Joanna to care for her four younger siblings.”

“That is a great deal for someone to bear,” Tilda said. “Am I correct in assuming she and Mr. Pollard do not have children?”

“Not that I am aware of, but as I said, we have not maintained a friendship. I am happy to see her achieve what she dreamed of—that shop her husband is opening on Oxford Street. I hear she is designing the ladies’ garments.”

“I hope you won’t find this question indelicate, Madame Ousset,” Tilda said gently. “Mrs. Pollard married Mr. Pollard later than most women typically wed. Was she married before that? Or did she have any other sort of romantic relationship?”

“She was not wed prior to Pollard.” Madame Ousset cocked her head. “Indeed, I was surprised when she married him, as I’d always thought she preferred to remain a spinster. As one myself, I usually recognize a kindred spirit. However, I think Pollard offered her the life she wanted.” As Tilda had pointed out in the coach, Pollard also seemed to love his wife. Hadrian had sensed that too, though Mrs. Pollard had been harder to read.

Madame Ousset continued, “When Joanna resigned her position here, she set up her own business and a few of my clients chose to use her services.”

Tilda offered the modiste a warm smile. “Thank you for your time, Madame Ousset. If you think of anything else that may be helpful about Mrs. Pollard, or even Mr. Pollard, please let us know.”

Hadrian handed the modiste his card. “Thank you.”

He escorted Tilda back into the main area of the shop, then outside onto the pavement. “I think it’s time you have cards printed,” he said.

“That is not an expense I can afford at the moment.” She looked at him and quickly added, “Nor will I accept an offer from you to purchase them for me.”

“Not even as a loan?”

She pursed her lips at him. “No. I know you can’t possibly understand what it means to be frugal, but I do not purchase things I can’t afford.”

“Nor do I.”

Arching a brow at him, she gave him a sardonic stare. “Isthere something you can’t afford?”

She had him there, and he found it unaccountably irritating. Not her question, but the fact that he truly couldn’t relate to what she was saying. He used humor to mask his frustration. “I am fairly certain I couldn’t purchase Buckingham Palace.”

Tilda laughed. “That’s because the Crown wouldn’t sell it to you.”

“Probably not.” He helped her into the coach as Leach opened the door. “Any other errands today?”

“Not that I can think of,” she replied.

“It’s best we are done earlier today,” Hadrian said. “I’ve meetings I ought to attend at Westminster.”

Tilda arched a brow at him. “I have been wondering about your primary occupation in the Lords. You mustn’t let helping me with my investigations interfere with your responsibilities.”

“I won’t.” Though he sometimes did, if he were honest. He couldn’t help himself. He enjoyed working with her.

And perhaps it was a little more than just that.

After instructing Leach to return to Marylebone to take Tilda home, Hadrian joined her in the coach. “Did you find Madame Ousset helpful?”

“Yes, though I need to think through what we’ve learned today. It does seem as though Joanna Pollard might have had motivation to kill Louis Chambers, along with all the others.”

“I noticed you asked the Pollards if they’d been to the Chambers’ house,” Hadrian said. He’d meant to ask her about that when they’d left the Pollards’ store, but he’d been focused on his vision.

“I wondered if they may have had access to poison something. But it would have had to have been something only Chambers ingested since no one else was ill.”

As they neared her grandmother’s house, he offered to convey her to the funeral tomorrow.

“I would like that, thank you,” she replied. “Now, if I don’t invite you in for tea, I will be scolded. But don’t feel you must.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he said with a grin. “Your grandmother’s stories as the wife of a magistrate are most engaging.” She would relay tales of cases her husband had heard, mostly colorful characters that appeared before him repeatedly for disturbing the peace.