Page 39 of A Whisper in the Shadows

Hadrian bristled at Maxwell’s use of the wordpartner—Tilda wasHadrian’spartner, not Maxwell’s.

“We should tell his lordship everything we learned from Inspector Chisholm last night,” Tilda said.

“I’ve already done that,” Maxwell replied.

Tilda’s gaze flashed with surprise. “Well, that’s…good.” She turned her head toward Hadrian. “After we visit Clement, I would like to call on Mrs. Cardy. I’d thought to take her some food from the market. That gives us a reason for calling, and it will also help her and her children. I’m very sorry for their plight.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Hadrian said. “Though I think my cook packed enough food for us to share with the Cardys. Let’s ask Mrs. Kilgore to prepare a basket from what I brought.”

As if summoned by his mention of her, Mrs. Kilgore entered with the tea. She poured out and set a cup down in front of each of them. “I suppose you want sugar?” She picked up the small tin of sugar cubes that Hadrian’s cook had included in the basket.

“Yes, please,” Hadrian said. She put the tin on the table.

Tilda looked to Mrs. Kilgore. “His lordship and I are going to call on Mrs. Cardy later this morning, and we’d like to share some of the food he brought with her and the children. Will you pack a basket?”

“I’d be happy to,” Mrs. Kilgore replied earnestly. “I’m so pleased you want to help my dear cousin.”

“My cook baked some biscuits that Mrs. Cardy’s children might like,” Hadrian said.

Mrs. Kilgore sniffed. “You are truly kindhearted, my lord. Thank you. It’s so unfair what’s happened to poor Hester. To lose her husband is bad enough, but to be without the funds he paid into the Amicable Society is salt in her wound. They should at least refund what he contributed.”

“Why didn’t they?” Hadrian asked.

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Kilgore replied with a deep frown. “I think they said there wasn’t a record of what he paid, but I don’t know if that’s true.”

“We’ll do our best to recover the Cardys’ money,” Hadrian vowed. Indeed, he’d supply it to them himself if necessary.

“Thank you, my lord.” Mrs. Kilgore left the dining room.

Tilda turned her gaze to Hadrian. “Is this the tea you brought?”

“I believe so. It certainly smells like it, and I did suggest she use it.” Hadrian moved the sugar closer to Tilda so she could help herself first.

After she added a cube to her tea, she offered the small silver tongs, which Hadrian’s cook had also sent, to Maxwell. But the inspector shook his head. “I’ve never put sugar in my tea. It’s a luxury we could ill afford, and I’ve never wanted to take up the habit.”

A faint bit of color stained Tilda’s cheeks very briefly as she handed the tongs to Hadrian. His fingers brushed hers, and he made sure not to reveal his reaction to her. Every time they touched, he felt a rush of awareness and heat. Indeed, the sensation had only increased the longer he’d known her.

Hadrian stirred his sugar into his tea as Maxwell sipped his. The inspector took a second sip before returning his cup to the saucer. “That is excellent tea, Ravenhurst. Thank you for bringing it.”

“It’s my pleasure to contribute to the household, particularly since I will be living here all the time now.”

Maxwell met his gaze across the table. “Ifyou’re hired to be the Amicable Society canvasser.”

Hadrian didn’t care for the man continuing to direct doubt at him. “Hopefully, that will happen this afternoon at the inquest. Either way, I do plan to stay, unless you take issue with that.”

“I do not.” Maxwell’s reply sounded a bit strained.

“Miss Wren and I will be sure to apprise you of all that transpires at the inquest, since you will be working.” A small—and perhaps petty—part of Hadrian was glad that he and Tilda would be together without the inspector.

“Oh, I will be at the inquest,” Maxwell said rather fervently. “I must report to the mercantile house this morning, but those of us who are members of the Amicable Society will attend.”

“Well, that’s certainly helpful,” Hadrian said, tamping down his disappointment. “I’m sure you would have been frustrated to miss it.”

Maxwell’s lips pressed into a grim line. “Most certainly. I should be off now. I look forward to hearing about your interview with Mrs. Cardy and what this journalist says.”

“I’m sure Mr. Clement will want to attend the inquest,” Tilda said. “You can at least observe him there, if not meet him.”

The inspector stood. “I’ll see you there.” He inclined his head, then left the dining room.