Page 83 of A Whisper at Midnight

Tilda chuckled. “I’ve told her to write them down as I daresay they would make an interesting history. I’m glad you enjoy them. I know she enjoys sharing them with you.”

As he escorted Tilda toward the door, he found himself wishing they could continue like this, even if they weren’t investigating something. So far, murder had drawn them together, and he would hope that their deepening friendship would ensure their association continued—whether they were solving a crime or not.

CHAPTER 17

“Iam very glad you let me convince you to purchase that gown yesterday,” Tilda’s grandmother said as she came down the stairs on Wednesday just before Hadrian was due to arrive.

Tilda hadn’t told her that being in Madame Ousset’s shop as well as the reaction of the young woman who’d greeted them had finally persuaded Tilda that she needed a new gown. “Thank you for going to the shop with me to choose it. Mrs. Acorn did a wonderful job with the alterations.” The housekeeper had insisted on making sure the dark-gray gown fit Tilda “to perfection.”

“I’m just so pleased to see you in a gown from the current decade,” Grandmama said with a mischievous laugh.

Tilda couldn’t help smiling as she moved toward her grandmother. “My wardrobe isn’tthatold.” Still, she hadn’t had a new gown in years. That didn’t include the evening gown she’d had to purchase for her last investigation with Hadrian when they’d gone to Northumberland House. Tilda hadn’t possessed anything remotely appropriate for such an auspicious occasion. And she’d no idea when she’d wear that extravagant garment again. “I do appreciate that you care so much, Grandmama.”

Her grandmother took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I know how important your investigative business is to you. I only want others to see you as I do—and as you are, an extremely intelligent and capable woman. Your appearance must reflect that.”

This gray gown was fashionable but sedate and would serve Tilda well in her profession, particularly if she were to attend funerals on a regular basis. It wasn’t full mourning, but since she was not family or even a friend, the dark gray was quite suitable.

“You are right, Grandmama.” Tilda pulled on the black gloves she’d also purchased. Her hat—also black—was not new, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to buy anything else.

“I often am, dear.” Grandmama’s blue eyes sparkled with mirth as she released Tilda’s hand. “I only wish you could further expand your wardrobe. Perhaps after this investigation is concluded and you’ve collected payment, you’ll be able to do so.”

If Tilda spent any of the money at all instead of saving the lot, it would likely be to purchase cards, as Hadrian had suggested. However, she wasn’t going to debate expenditures with her grandmother. It was one area where Grandmama was not right—financial matters were simply not her strong suit. “Hopefully, I will continue to find employment,” Tilda said with a smile.

“Your father would be so proud.” Grandmama missed her son almost as much as Tilda missed him.

“And my mother?” Tilda said with a faint chuckle. It was a rhetorical question.

“How would she even know?” Grandmama asked. “I wouldn’t tell her anything, and I can’t imagine you would.”

No, Tilda would not. Her mother wouldn’t care. And that was worse than if she’d objected.

Tilda heard the front door open and hurriedly bussed her grandmother’s cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

But her grandmother followed her into the entrance hall where Vaughn held the door for Hadrian who stood at the threshold. Hadrian’s gaze locked on Tilda. His lips curved into a smile, and butterflies flitted annoyingly in Tilda’s belly. She didn’t have time for such nonsense, nor did she want it.

Regardless, the butterflies persisted.

And Tilda smiled in return. She couldn’t seem to help it. When she’d dressed for Northumberland House, she’d felt more feminine than ever before in her life. What was most surprising was that she’d liked it. But that didn’t mean she cared a whit about having fancy clothing or wearing the latest fashion. It was just nice to look … nice.

Blinking, Tilda pushed her smile away.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” Tilda’s grandmother said effusively. “It was such a pleasure to have you come for tea the other day. And last week too.” She laughed softly. “May we expect you every week?”

“I would have no quarrel with that,” he said with a gallant bow.

Tilda had plenty of quarrel with it. The Earl of Ravenhurst could not be a regular visitor. Yes, they were friends as well as associates, but that was all. There was nothing wrong with taking tea occasionally, but weekly was far too often. “We should be going.”

“Good luck,” Grandmama said as they departed.

“That’s a new dress, isn’t it?” Hadrian asked as they walked to the coach.

“Yes.”

“Did you purchase that yesterday after we visited Madame Ousset’s?”

“Yes.” She darted a glance toward him, hating that she felt self-conscious because they’d discussed her purchasing a dress yesterday.

He smiled at her. “Well, you look marvelous.”