Page 93 of A Whisper at Midnight

Oliver twitched, and Tilda felt a rush of sympathy for the man. No matter what she thought of these people, it would be difficult to watch someone you cared about swing from the end of a rope in front of a jeering crowd. It was such a barbaric way to die, in Tilda’s opinion. She hoped the current push to eliminate public executions was successful.

“You may go, Mr. Chambers,” Teague said. “Though if you think of anything else that will be useful to my investigation, please let me know immediately. It may be the information that sets Mrs. Chambers free.”

Oliver’s features brightened. “I hadn’t considered that. I’ll try to think of anything helpful.”

After Oliver departed, Teague frowned at the door. “I took Mrs. Chambers into custody hoping she might confess. Instead, I provoked her paramour. She maintains that she is innocent.” He moved from behind the desk and situated the chair near them once more before sitting down. Looking at Tilda, he asked, “Who is your primary suspect?”

“Beryl, for the reasons I stated earlier. But we must also consider the Pollards, who had a motive to protect their business from Louis Chambers’ financial woes.” Tilda could not tell him what Hadrian had seen—that Joanna Pollard had visited Martha Farrow and that Louis Chambers had likely made a seductive advance upon her.

“What about the Chambers’ retainers?” Teague asked.

“They don’t seem to have liked him much, but their motives are not as strong as the Pollards’ or Beryl’s. With the exception of Massey,” Tilda said. “Chambers knew his secret and was not above threatening the valet about it. I was curious as to why the coroner didn’t question him about that at the inquest.”

Teague cleared his throat. “Massey explained to me that he visits the Cock and Hen because he meets his lover there. It is not a situation I wanted to draw attention to at the inquest. I am aware of it, however, and acknowledge that Massey does have a motive to kill Chambers. Furthermore, I will pursue him as a suspect as the evidence indicates.”

“We must also consider Martha, even though she too is dead,” Tilda pointed out. “She was carrying Chambers’ child, and he forced her to resign.”

Teague squinted faintly at his desk. “After cleaning the knife she used to stab Louis, she stole into Beryl’s room and put it in her dresser drawer? That assumes my constables are mistaken about it not being there.”

Tilda inclined her head. “She did know the house very well and would have known that Beryl was unlikely to wake due to her sleeping draught.”

“Excellent points,” Teague said. “Still, I think Beryl is the likeliest candidate.” He looked to Hadrian. “I know that isn’t what you want to hear.”

Hadrian met Teague’s gaze. “The truth is what matters. Will Beryl be staying here tonight?”

“Yes,” Teague replied. “I am still hopeful she might decide to reveal more than she has.”

Tilda rose. “And what if she’s telling the truth?”

“That’s always impossible to know, isn’t it?” Teague stood and opened the door for Tilda and Hadrian. They agreed to share information if they learned anything.

When they were in the coach on the way to Tilda’s house, Hadrian shook his head. “That was not how I expected the day to go.”

“Nor did I,” Tilda said. “I am not surprised, however, to have confirmation of Oliver and Beryl’s association.”

“Though it is sad that they have no future together,” Hadrian remarked.

“I’m not convinced she would have wanted one.” Tilda glanced toward Hadrian. “When Oliver said he believed Beryl reciprocated his feelings, he didn’t seem certain. And her behavior leads me to believe she may be interested in someone else.”

“What behavior is that?” His eyes focused on her in the dim light of the coach. When Tilda didn’t immediately reply, he asked, “Did you see her kiss me?”

Tilda’s heart knocked about in her chest as her pulse sped. “I didn’t mean to spy. I was curious. That’s my job.”

He smiled softly, and the blue of his eyes was especially arresting—rich and deep, like the sky just outside London after the sun has dipped below the horizon before it turned dark. Tilda had found him handsome when they’d met, but she’d avoided thinking of him that way since. Mostly. Right now, she could not deny that he was attractive, nor that she was drawn to him. Or would be—if she was interested in any sort of romantic entanglement.

Which she was not. Shecouldnot.

“I was surprised when she did it,” he went on. “I did not appreciate her overture, nor do I want that to happen again. I told her so. I’ve no romantic interest in Beryl.”

Why was he telling her this? “That’s probably for the best since she is currently in the custody of the Metropolitan Police.”

Hadrian smiled again, a bit more widely, and the butterflies he sometimes stirred in Tilda’s belly returned. He sobered as he brushed his hand over his thigh. “There is only one woman I would consider kissing, and it isn’t Beryl.” He held her gaze.

Tilda’s heart beat a staccato rhythm. Was he flirting with her? And not in the superficial way that was expected when men and women socialize. She wasn’t sure she knew how to flirt back.

“Why haven’t you kissed that woman?” The question tumbled from her mouth. Was that her attempt at flirting, or was she actually thinking of what it might be like to kiss him?

She swallowed. Perhaps he wasn’t even talking about her. Indeed, it was likely he wasn’t. Why would he want to kiss her of all people? They were associates. Friends, at best. Tilda was not someone the Earl of Ravenhurst would consider kissing.