Page 60 of A Whisper in the Shadows (Raven & Wren #4)

T ilda’s grandmother was thrilled to have her back at home, as was the rest of the household.

She’d taken the last two days to rest and reacclimate herself and was now ready to return to work.

In fact, she’d just sent a note to the person who’d hired her to find some stolen items and would hopefully meet with her in the next few days.

And today Hadrian was coming for tea—he was due any moment. Tilda’s grandmother already had plans to take tea at a neighbor’s house, though she’d considered canceling in favor of seeing Hadrian. She enjoyed his visits, which often occurred after they finished a case.

The tea and scones were already on the table in the parlor thanks to Mrs. Acorn. She was just finishing her arrangement, when Tilda heard Vaughn open the door and welcome Hadrian inside.

“It’s good to see you, my lord,” Vaughn said. “We heard all about your exciting case in the City. Are you glad to be back at home?”

“I am, thank you, Vaughn. The investigation was most invigorating.”

“I’m sure there will be another shortly,” the butler noted.

“Has Miss Wren received more inquiries?” Hadrian asked.

“Just one, but I’m not interested in it,” Tilda replied from just inside the parlor.

Hadrian stepped over the threshold. His head and hands were bare as he’d given his hat and gloves to Vaughn. The towering butler shuffled to a table where he set the accessories.

“You look lovely,” Hadrian said with a warm smile. “I’ve missed your blonde hair.”

Tilda touched the back of her head. Clara had done another of her intricate styles, which Tilda had surprisingly missed—not necessarily how it looked, but having the help.

Tilda hadn’t ever wanted a maid, and now she found she liked having one, particularly after living in the City the past week, where she’d cared entirely for herself.

That realization made her slightly uncomfortable.

She told herself that enjoying the help of a maid did not diminish her independence. “I’ve missed my hair too.”

“That powder was in your clothing,” Mrs. Acorn noted. “But Clara is a wonder with laundering.”

Hadrian smiled at the housekeeper. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Acorn. It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Mrs. Acorn blushed faintly. “It’s always nice to welcome you, my lord. Mrs. Wren is sorry she isn’t here but hopes to return before you leave.” She gestured to the table. “Enjoy your tea.”

When she was gone, Tilda moved to the table and poured out. She made Hadrian’s cup the way he liked it.

“I’m afraid I can’t use sugar now without thinking of Inspector Maxwell,” Hadrian said.

Tilda sat. “I had the same thought. Speaking of him, he sent a note this morning. He’s been promoted to Detective Inspector. I’m so pleased for him.”

Hadrian smiled as he took the opposite chair. “That is excellent news.” He sipped his tea. “I take it I shouldn’t leave until after your grandmother returns?”

“She would appreciate that,” Tilda replied. “Thank you.” She helped herself to a scone.

“Have you settled back in?” Hadrian asked.

She nodded. “And you?”

He put a scone on his plate. “I’ve noticed something odd,” he spoke softly, though he didn’t really need to.

Vaughn was in the entrance hall, but his hearing was not the best. “You recall how I didn’t see any visions on Monday at the society meeting?

” At Tilda’s nod, he continued. “I haven’t had any—not even a glimpse—since.

I’ve been to Westminster and to my club.

I typically see a flash of something when I am in such places. ”

Tilda paused in spreading jam on her scone. “When was the last time you had a vision? You were at Westminster on Monday before the meeting, weren’t you?”

“The last vision I had was the candle at Draper’s house.”

“That is perplexing,” Tilda said. “Have you ever had such a period where you haven’t seen visions?”

Before he could answer, there was a commotion in the entrance hall. Tilda heard the door open. An unmistakable voice made her freeze.

“Are you a butler? How on earth can Barbara afford a butler?”

Hadrian leaned slightly forward. “Who’s that?” he whispered.

Tilda clenched her jaw. “My mother.” She set her scone down and prepared herself for the coming storm.

Tilda’s mother swept into the parlor, her orange-red silk skirts swirling. Her pale blonde hair was piled high atop her head and her hazel eyes surveyed the room briefly before settling first on Hadrian and then Tilda.

“Welcome, Mother. We were not expecting you,” Tilda said evenly. “Unless we somehow missed your letter.”

She waved her hand. “I did not send one. I only made the decision to come yesterday after a friend told me she read about you working as an investigator .” She flicked a glance toward Hadrian, who stood. He wore an amiable expression.

Tilda looked up at Hadrian. “Allow me to present my mother, Lady Edith Pierce. Mother, this is Lord Ravenhurst.”

Hadrian bowed. “Lady Pierce. Your husband is a baronet?”

Tilda’s mother’s brows arched in surprise. “Lord Ravenhurst? How do you know one another?” She appeared utterly aghast, but then she would never have expected her daughter to be acquainted with an earl.

Glancing at Hadrian, Tilda murmured, “Yes, her husband is Sir Bardolph Pierce.” She returned her gaze to her mother. “Ravenhurst assists me with my investigations.”

Gasping, Tilda’s mother’s hand fluttered to her chest. “My goodness, but that is shocking.”

Tilda rose from her chair reluctantly. “Why are you here?” She hadn’t visited London since last autumn, and Tilda did not expect to see her for at least another few months.

“As I said, I heard you were working as an investigator ,” Tilda’s mother said dramatically. “Why on earth would you do that when you should be looking for a husband? I was concerned it may be too late for that, but my hope is rekindled now.” Her gaze settled on Hadrian once more, and she smiled.

“Lord Ravenhurst is my investigative partner,” Tilda reminded her, though she’d little hope her mother would accept that truth.

“He’s here for tea,” her mother said with a faint shrug. “That is nearly courting.”

Tilda exhaled with exasperation. “It is not.”

Tilda’s mother pursed her lips. “Hmm. I would join you, but I’m exhausted after my trip. Where is Mrs. Acorn? I’m afraid I didn’t bring my maid. She was feeling a touch under the weather.”

“I’m here,” Mrs. Acorn called just before she stepped into the parlor. Her eyes were slightly wider than usual, and Tilda could see she was as surprised by their sudden guest as Tilda.

“My mother is here for a visit,” Tilda said tightly. “She did not bring her maid. I am happy to assign Clara to her for the duration of her stay.”

Her mother’s gaze snapped back to Tilda. “Who is Clara?”

“Our maid,” Tilda replied.

“You’ve a butler and a maid? Is this because you’re an investigator? Don’t tell me you earn enough money to afford such luxuries. I can’t believe it.”

“Your daughter is quite accomplished,” Hadrian said smoothly. “My own mother hired her to conduct an investigation.”

Tilda’s mother narrowed her eyes briefly as she regarded Hadrian dubiously. “Indeed? Well, I shall have to hear more about this, I suppose.” She sent Tilda a look of deep concern. “I came here to demand you cease that work at once. It’s unseemly.”

Tilda opened her mouth to defend her work, but there was a second commotion in the entrance hall. She heard another familiar voice—that of Inspector Teague from Scotland Yard.

Turning to Mrs. Acorn, Tilda gave her a pleading look. “Please show Lady Pierce upstairs so she can rest.” She tried to summon a smile for her mother and failed. “I’ll see you later, Mother.”

Mrs. Acorn followed Tilda’s mother from the parlor, and Tilda sent a brief look at Hadrian, who was regarding her with curiosity.

“I want to know more about that situation,” he said softly. “But it sounds as though you have another caller. What a busy afternoon. Here, I’d hoped to have you to myself.”

His words sent a ripple of heat through Tilda. She didn’t have time to consider her reaction, which was probably for the best. She still hadn’t worked through the unfamiliar new feelings she had for Hadrian.

Vaughn trudged into the parlor. “Inspector Teague is here. Is now a good time?”

Tilda exhaled and smoothed her hand down her hip. “Yes. Show him in.”

The butler departed and a moment later, Teague strode in. In his middle thirties, he had dark red hair and sharply assessing brown eyes. He looked toward Hadrian. “I thought I recognized your coach outside.”

“Afternoon, Teague,” Hadrian said. “I trust you are well.”

“Well enough.” The inspector moved his attention to Tilda. “I hear you conducted a successful investigation in the City. And you.” He glanced at Hadrian.

“We did indeed.” Tilda clasped her hands in front of her waist. “Have you come to hire me for an investigation?”

Teague’s features darkened. “I have not. But I wanted to alert you about something that will be of interest. I probably shouldn’t, but I can’t keep it from you. Not after all we’ve been through together.”

“That sounds almost ominous,” Tilda said with curiosity.

“It’s not good,” Teague replied with a frown. “Inspector Padgett was found dead last night.”

Tilda sucked in a breath. Padgett worked for the Metropolitan Police and had been the inspector assigned to Hadrian’s attack several months earlier.

Padgett had buried evidence in Hadrian’s case, as well as in another regarding the man who was murdered by the brigand who’d attacked Hadrian.

Padgett had left the police, but his behavior hadn’t been investigated.

“Dead or murdered?” Hadrian asked, his tone carrying a rough edge.

“The inquest is tomorrow, but the coroner will no doubt say it’s murder,” Teague said. “I came here because Padgett was found with a piece of paper in his pocket that is most confounding.”

The hair on Tilda’s neck stood up. “Why?”

“Because it bears your father’s name.”