Page 1 of A Whisper in the Shadows (Raven & Wren #4)

“ D id you say you wanted me to be your wife?” Matilda Wren asked Inspector William Maxwell, a man she’d just met a few minutes ago. She wanted to make sure she’d heard him correctly.

“Yes,” the inspector replied. He appeared to be in his late twenties and had light-brown curly hair and sharp, hazel eyes. “Not in actuality, of course. I’d like you to pose as my wife to assist me with an investigation.”

Tilda slid a glance toward her friend and investigative partner, Hadrian Becket, Lord Ravenhurst. His features were inscrutable, but his gaze was fixed on the City of London inspector.

“Let us sit,” Tilda said, gesturing toward the seating area in the parlor of her grandmother’s house in Marylebone.

She took one of the chairs while Hadrian claimed the other, and Inspector Maxwell occupied the settee.

“I confess I’m surprised by your request, Inspector. Or are you Detective Inspector?”

“Inspector,” Maxwell replied. “Though I am hoping to be Detective Inspector at the conclusion of this investigation.”

“I see.” Tilda was more than surprised by the man’s request—she was thrilled. While she’d worked in tandem with Scotland Yard on several cases now, they would never officially request her assistance. “Do your superiors know you are asking me to help?”

“They do. I’m conducting a secret investigation in which I will change my identity. The scheme requires me to have a wife, and, well, your recent success with helping to catch the Levitation Killer recommends you.”

“Miss Wren did not just help to snare the murderers. She solved the case,” Hadrian said with a bit of ice to his tone.

Tilda couldn’t help feeling pleased that he would ensure she received credit.

But she wanted him to have the same. “Lord Ravenhurst is being modest. He was instrumental throughout the investigation of the Levitation Killer. Rather, killers,” Tilda corrected as there was more than one person responsible.

The inspector looked toward Hadrian. “I didn’t realize you were so involved, my lord. There was no mention of you in any of the stories published about the case.”

That was because Hadrian had asked that his name be left out of the reporting.

While some of his peers and colleagues were aware he assisted with investigations, the majority would likely not approve of his involvement, particularly if it distracted from his duties.

Though Hadrian had never indicated that was the case, Tilda sometimes wondered if their investigations took him away from his responsibilities in the Lords.

“I prefer my involvement to remain anonymous,” Hadrian said blandly.

“I do understand,” the inspector replied. “Well, I don’t think this is a case where your assistance will be required,” he added with a brief smile.

Tilda slid another glance at Hadrian. She didn’t think he would like being excluded, but then again, perhaps it was time for him to pay more attention to his duties as earl.

“Tell me about this investigation,” Tilda said to the inspector.

“Yes, of course.” Maxwell positioned himself toward Tilda. “I’m investigating a friendly society. Are you familiar with them?”

“Somewhat,” Tilda said. “They are organizations formed to provide for the welfare of their members. They are rather like a brotherhood, are they not?”

“In many cases,” Maxwell said with a nod. “They are often organized with a specific goal or like-minded pursuit, perhaps centered on a trade or a religious belief. This society was started just over six months ago, and membership is confined to a specific ward in the City.”

“Where is that?” Hadrian asked.

The inspector glanced in his direction but looked at Tilda as he responded.

“It’s called the Coleman Street Ward Amicable Society.

Their headquarters are at the Swan and Hoop in Moorgate.

” This was all very close to the City of London Police headquarters in Old Jewry.

“There is suspicion that this society is committing fraud. The Amicable Society provides the same sort of benefits as a burial club.”

“I’m familiar with those,” Tilda said, her curiosity piqued. “People pay a few shillings or pence a week in order to collect money to pay for a funeral in the event someone in the family dies.”

“Precisely,” the inspector said. “Friendly societies operate in much the same way but also offer benefits for illness and sometimes on the birth of a child. However, friendly societies are required to be registered. And yes, the Amicable Society is registered.”

“How did the police become aware of this potential fraud?” Tilda asked.

“A widow of a member of the Amicable Society is the cousin of a sergeant’s wife,” Maxwell explained. “The member recently died, and when the widow tried to collect the benefit for her deceased husband, she was denied because it’s the society’s policy that benefits are not paid for one year.”

Tilda cocked her head, uncertain of what the fraud could be. “Since the society has only existed for six months, why would the widow think she was eligible to collect?”

“Because when her husband joined and paid the entrance fee, he was told he would be eligible to receive benefits after six months.” Maxwell frowned briefly. “The widow insists this is true but, unfortunately, does not have documentation to prove her claim.”

“Does the society have record of him?” Tilda asked.

Maxwell nodded. “He is listed in their membership rolls. However, they refused to pay the benefit, citing that he wasn’t yet eligible.”

“That doesn’t sound like fraud to me,” Hadrian observed.

“It sounds like a dispute over what really happened,” Tilda said.

The inspector pressed his lips together. “In addition to the potential discrepancy in the eligibility of benefits, the woman’s husband was ill when he joined the society. I find it suspect that he was admitted since he was showing symptoms of consumption.”

Tilda’s curiosity was pricked, as was her sense that something wasn’t right. “It’s suspicious that a man who was ill was admitted to the society and that he was told he would be eligible for benefits in six months if the society’s policy is actually one year.”

“Precisely,” the inspector said with a nod.

“Sergeant Kilgore—his wife is the cousin of the widow—assigned an inspector to investigate. Inspector Dolen found that the deceased member of the society, Gilbert Cardy, had been recruited by a canvasser soliciting members when the society first began. However, Dolen wasn’t able to locate the canvasser, Timothy Eaton, and the society’s chair, Walter Phelps, said he left his post last week. ”

“Was Eaton committing fraud?” Hadrian asked. “What would be his motive for doing so?”

“That is what we must determine,” Maxwell replied. “What fraud, if any, was perpetrated, why, and by whom?”

“Have you been assigned to this case along with Inspector Dolen?” Tilda asked.

“Sergeant Kilgore decided someone should investigate from within the society. The administrators of the society said they’d shared all they knew and did not appreciate Inspector Dolen causing a scandal over what amounted to a clerical error by an employee who no longer worked for the society.”

“That doesn’t sound evasive,” Tilda quipped with a half-smile.

“Precisely.” Maxwell nodded. “Inspector Dolen did not believe the society administrators were entirely cooperative. Sergeant Kilgore wants a thorough investigation of the society and thinks it can best be done under disguise. Since the society already knows Dolen, Kilgore assigned me to the case.”

It all sounded rather suspect to Tilda. “I’m trying to determine why the society would accept members who are ill.

In the case of this man who died of consumption, they don’t have to pay the benefit because it has not been a year.

” Tilda met Hadrian’s gaze and then the inspector’s.

“Is that the scheme? The society accepted members who they gambled would die in the first year and thus they wouldn’t have to pay out? ”

Maxwell smiled. “You are quite clever, Miss Wren. That is indeed my suspicion. My plan is to join the society in disguise to ferret out this information. I am hoping you will pretend to be my wife. Your presence will make me appear stable, and you will be able to assist with the investigation.”

Tilda was already invested in uncovering the truth of whatever this society was doing. “Our job is to find proof of their fraud. Or at the very least, reveal the reasoning behind admitting members who are ill and may not live long enough to collect their benefits.”

“Exactly so.” Maxwell regarded her with admiration. “I’m already glad I’ve sought your assistance, Miss Wren.”

“I’m intrigued by this case,” Tilda said. “How will our disguises work?”

“I’m delighted to hear it,” the inspector replied with a grin. “I’ve taken a position as a clerk at a mercantile house on Broad Street, where several society members are employed. I have taken lodgings for us to reside in, just off Coleman Street, in White Alley. First, however?—”

“Wait just a moment,” Hadrian interrupted, his dark brows drawn together over his brilliant blue eyes. “You can’t expect Miss Wren to live with you. That would ruin her reputation.”

Maxwell shifted on the settee as he regarded Hadrian. “We would sleep in separate rooms, of course. It is my hope that no one will ever know Miss Wren was a part of the investigation. We will be disguised and using different names.”

Hadrian’s features did not relax. Oddly, Tilda noted she still found him exceptionally handsome with his square jaw and aristocratic cheekbones, despite his vexation. Or perhaps even because of it—the fire in his gaze was most arresting. Even the slight bump in his nose added to his appeal.