Page 60 of A Whisper in the Shadows

“Yes, I plan to ask for more supplies for the house, since Mrs. Kilgore seems to enjoy them.”

Tilda sent him a faint grimace. “Is it too much to ask for more biscuits for the Cardy children?”

“Not at all,” Hadrian replied quickly. “I’d already planned to have Leach ask my cook for more.”

“Of course you did,” Tilda murmured. “You must certainly be the most thoughtful earl in all of London.”

Her words helped to banish any lingering disappointment he felt. They shared a strong bond and a mutual respect and concern for one another. If that was all they ever had, he would still find joy in it. And perhaps there was a tiny glimmer of hope that her feelings toward him could change.

Someday.

They approached Mrs. Atkins’s house, and Hadrian knocked on the door. A housekeeper answered, a woman in her middle forties with dark brown eyes and a sharply turned-up nose.

“Good afternoon,” Hadrian said. “I am Mr. Beck. This is my sister, Mrs. Harwood. We are here to see Mrs. Atkins.”

“Come in. She’s waiting for you in the parlor, just there.” The housekeeper gestured to a doorway off the entrance hall.

Hadrian thanked her, then inclined his head for Tilda to precede him into the parlor.

Mrs. Atkins was seated at a small table, where a tea tray was already arranged. Since she was not wearing her veil today, Hadrian could see her entire face. She was near in age to his mother, with blonde hair dappled faintly with white. Her eyes were a deep cornflower blue, and her round cheeks were lightly rouged.

She smiled widely at them, her gaze sweeping over Hadrian and barely noticing Tilda. “Welcome. I’m so pleased you could come today. Do sit.” She indicated the other chairs at the table. “You look rather dashing, Mr. Beck.”

Hadrian had suffered less perusal at the society balls he’d attended—all of them combined. Mrs. Atkins’s interest made him slightly uncomfortable, but he knew it was necessary to put up with her for the investigation.

Mrs. Atkins poured the tea and added milk and sugar without asking their preferences.

“I’m most curious about your involvement with the society,” Tilda said. “I had the impression that women weren’t allowed to do much—though I understand we’re supposed to plan a picnic.”

“Oh yes, the picnic.” Mrs. Atkins waved her hand. “Walter had spoken to me about it and asked if I would coordinate its execution. I’d planned to call a meeting about that to take place during one of the next few weekly meetings. However, this business with that fraudulent member dying and then poor Mr. Phelps being murdered has quite diverted things.”

Hadrian prickled at the woman’s description of Gilbert Cardy. He hadn’t intentionally committed a fraud.

“I would be interested in helping,” Tilda said fervently, slipping into her role as Mrs. Harwood, the eager wife of a member. “I greatly admire your involvement with the Amicable Society. My husband and I are also deeply committed to its purpose. In fact, he would be interested in working for thebetterment of the society. Do you think Mr. Nevill and Mr. Furnier will be looking for someone to take Mr. Phelps’s place?”

Mrs. Atkins’s pale blonde brows drew together. “I’m not sure, but that’s not a bad idea. Perhaps you should allow me to present the idea to them. They may be more inclined to consider him if I give him my endorsement.”

Hadrian wondered if that was true or if Mrs. Atkins simply liked being the center of attention.

“Or perhaps your brother would be interested in being an administrator as well as the canvasser.” Mrs. Atkins smiled rather alluringly at Hadrian. “Dare I hope?”

“My talents are better suited to that of canvasser,” Hadrian said. “My brother-in-law is more business-minded and would make a better administrator. I am more…social.”

“Oh, I can see that,” Mrs. Atkins said. “I will speak to Furnier and Nevill about Mr. Harwood, though no one will be able to replace dear Walter—that’s Mr. Phelps. He bade me call him Walter some time ago.”

“You were close?” Tilda asked.

Mrs. Atkins nodded. “We became very good friends. Having both lost our spouses, we found solace in one another’s company. And, of course, he’s the reason I became interested in supporting the Amicable Society. I could see his passion for the ward and for helping people here. I knew I needed to be a part of that.”

“How exactly have you supported the society?” Hadrian asked. “You mentioned paying my salary, which is most generous of you.”

“I did make an investment at the start, but I expect to be repaid in the autumn. At least, that was my arrangement with Walter.” Mrs. Atkins lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Nobody knows, but I paid Eaton’s salary. That was between Walter and me.”

Hadrian wondered how Furnier, as the man in charge of the funds, wouldn’t have noticed that. Surely, he would have wanted to know how Eaton was being paid.

“You gave the money directly to Phelps?” Tilda asked, likely thinking along the same lines as Hadrian. Perhaps Phelps had told Furnier that he was funding Eaton’s salary.

Mrs. Atkins nodded before taking a sip of her tea. “Oh, that’s delicious. What do you think?” She looked expectantly at both Hadrian and Tilda. They exchanged a glance and, obligingly, each took a drink.