Chapter 23
Tilda watched him lean toward her, but she hadn’t entirely realized what he’d meant to do until his lips met hers. Surprise, mingled with a wonderful heat, raced through her with delicious speed.
It was over almost as quickly as it had happened. Their eyes met as Hadrian retreated. A few fine lines marred his forehead. Was he worried that he should not have kissed her?
Good. Because he should not have, no matter how lovely it had been.
And it had been quite lovely.
“Pardon me,” he said softly.
Tilda settled herself back against the squab and turned her head toward the front of the coach. Her heart was beating madly, and she fought to control her breath. “That should not be repeated.”
He didn’t immediately respond, and when he finally did, she heard confusion in his voice. “I thought you said you wouldn’t mind if I kissed you. We spoke of it the other day. I was talking about you. Did you not realize?”
She had realized, of course, and she’d responded saying she wouldn’t mind, which had been most foolish of her. What good could come of them kissing one another?
“I should not have said that,” she said firmly. “I do apologize. We must maintain our professional association.”
“But we are also friends.”
She glanced at him, which was a mistake because he looked like more than a friend to her eyes. That was probably due to what had happened. She was naturally upset after he’d been shot. And he had to be too. That was likely why he’d kissed her. They were both shaken.
Which meant she could put the kiss from her mind. It had been the result of an overwhelming event, nothing more. Tilda was relieved, especially since she had no intention of indulging in any kind of romantic entanglement. That would lead to marriage, and she had absolutely no interest in that. Especially to an earl.
Thankfully, the coach stopped, and she saw they had arrived at Hadrian’s house. “Today has been remarkably intense. I understand why you … overstepped. We needn’t discuss it,” she said just before Leach opened the door.
She climbed out and watched as Leach helped Hadrian from the coach. Leach waited for her whilst she walked Hadrian to the door.
“My apologies,” Hadrian said. “I did not mean to offend.” His tone had gone cool.
“I am not offended,” Tilda rushed to say. “Kissing is just not something we can allow. That leads to … a different kind of attachment.”
He turned his head toward her as they made their way to the door. His eyes were bright. “I would never expect you to behave inappropriately.” He frowned slightly. “But I did when I kissed you, particularly without seeking your permission. I do apologize. It won’t happen again.”
His butler opened the door. His gaze fell on Hadrian’s arm and the awkward drape of his coat. “What on earth has happened, my lord?”
“I shall explain, Collier.” Hadrian looked to Tilda. “Thank you for your assistance.” He moved into the house, and Tilda accepted that she had been dismissed.
“Please let me know how you’re doing,” she called after him.
He nodded in reply. Tilda smiled at the butler, then she returned to the coach where Leach opened the door for her.
“Thank you, Leach,” she murmured, her mind a tumult of thoughts and agitation.
How she wished he hadn’t kissed her. Except …
She put her fingertips to her lips as she recalled the wonderful sensation of his mouth against hers. His lips had moved over hers briefly but with a sensuous purpose that she’d felt deep inside herself. It wasn’t like anything she’d experienced before.
In truth, it had been terrifying.
Though perhaps not as terrifying as the idea of being married to someone like him. She could not imagine the responsibilities and expectations that would come with such a role. Actually, she could, and that was why she wasn’t interested. She liked her life. It was compact and manageable, and she was on the verge of embarking on a new path of conducting her own investigations, something she’d only ever dared dream.
But one of the reasons it seemed possible and even probable was Hadrian’s involvement. With an earl’s recommendation and support, she actually had a chance for success.
Would he still provide that? Or had she completely ruined things?
No, it wouldn’t be her fault. He’d kissed her.
Because she’d led him to believe she didn’t mind.
Argh!
This was a complication she didn’t need. She wanted things to go back to the way they were before he’d kissed her. No, before he’d talked about kissing her.
If they could do that, all would be well.
T hree weeks later, Tilda descended the staircase in a new gown and with a more intricate hairstyle than she was used to. Her grandmother smiled widely. “You look lovely, my dear. I’m so glad you saw fit to purchase another gown. The mulberry is very pretty on you. And Clara has made a masterpiece of your hair.”
Clara had come to stay with them—temporarily—a few days ago after Beryl had gone home to her parents in Rutland. The house in Catherine Place would soon have new tenants, and as expected, they did not have need of Clara. In fact, they hadn’t wanted any of the existing retainers to stay, and so they’d all needed to find a new situation. Clara would be looking for a position as a maid or lady’s maid, but in the meantime, she’d had nowhere to go. So Tilda and her grandmother had taken her in, just as they’d done with Vaughn.
Now they had two additions to their household that they did not particularly need but who had ended up being quite helpful. Tilda could not have known that she would need someone to style her hair for a new client. The new client was also why Tilda had purchased a new gown. It was vital she looked her very best because today she was meeting with that client.
The dowager Countess of Ravenhurst.
Well, Tilda supposed Hadrian had been her first client and Beryl Chambers had been her second. This was the first client referred to her specifically for an investigation.
That it was Hadrian’s mother was slightly bothersome, but only because Tilda was still caught up on the idea that she oughtn’t be paid by him or his family for every investigation. He’d ended up paying for Tilda’s time investigating Beryl’s missing jewels, in addition to her invoice that covered the investigation to prove Hadrian hadn’t killed Louis Chambers.
However, Hadrian wouldn’t be paying for this investigation—his mother would. He was the reason behind it though, and whilst Tilda was grateful, she was also a bit nervous. She’d seen him just once since the Thing She Would Not Name had happened to ensure he was healing well.
During that meeting, Hadrian had reiterated his desire to help Tilda with her investigative work, which included referring people to her. He’d also ensured she paid a very fair price for the printing of her cards. Indeed, she wondered if he’d shared the expense without telling her. She hoped not, even as she told herself that she oughtn’t let pride rule her decisions.
“Thank you, Grandmama.”
Tilda’s grandmother eyed her with concern. “Are you nervous?”
“Perhaps a little.” Whilst Tilda had met the dowager countess previously, working for her would be a different kind of interaction.
“You will be splendid!” Grandmama assured her. “I only wish I could come along and watch your triumph.”
“This isn’t a social engagement,” Tilda said, which she’d explained before. She realized it was somewhat difficult for her grandmother to fully comprehend that Tilda was a woman of business. That was just so far outside her grandmother’s experience.
“I know, dear. I shall wait eagerly for the full report of what transpired.”
Hadrian’s coach arrived—he’d insisted on sending it to fetch her, and Leach helped her inside. “Good to see you, Miss Wren.”
“And you, Leach,” she replied with a smile.
When she arrived at Ravenhurst House, Collier showed her to the drawing room where Hadrian was already waiting. The dowager countess did not appear to have arrived yet.
That meant Tilda and Hadrian would be alone for a time. Tilda would do her best to ensure it wasn’t awkward.
He greeted her warmly, with his usual smile that still set a few butterflies loose in Tilda’s belly no matter how hard she tried to remain unaffected. She just had to accept that she had an attraction to Hadrian and would need to ignore that. In time, she presumed, it would pass. Especially after more time had elapsed since the Thing She Would Not Name.
His gaze lingered on her gown, and she knew he must recognize that it was new. She waited for him to compliment her as he often did, but he did not. That was probably for the best. After all, she’d said they needed to keep matters between them professional. Or something like that.
“You appear completely recovered from your wound,” she said.
“I am, thank you. I resumed my morning rides in the park a week or so ago.”
Morning rides in the park were an excellent reminder of why Tilda could have no future with Hadrian. She didn’t know how to ride a horse, nor did she have any interest in learning.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Tilda said. “Have you any idea why your mother seeks to hire me?”
He shook his head. “She is being rather guarded. She said she would reveal all today when she could meet with you in person. I only know she wishes you to make some inquiries on her behalf.”
“I am happy to help. And thank you very much for recommending me to her.”
“It is my pleasure. I hope to continue the practice.”
“Are you planning to assist me?” she asked tentatively, unsure of what answer she was hoping for. “With your ability, I mean.”
“If you require it, I would be delighted. I confess, I am somewhat jealous as I’ve developed an affinity for investigation. With you, anyway.” He looked away abruptly. “How is your grandmother?” he asked quickly, as if he wanted to distract Tilda from what he’d said. There was no need, for she didn’t want to think about how much she enjoyed investigating with him too.
“Good afternoon!” Hadrian’s mother sailed into the room in a flurry of dark-yellow silk. “Miss Wren, you are here, how lovely.” She smiled broadly, and Tilda saw the similarity in mother and son, primarily in the shape and color of their eyes.
Tilda dipped into a brief curtsey. “Good afternoon, Lady Ravenhurst. I am honored you would seek my services.”
“It is a delicate matter, and since you have helped Ravenhurst before, I am hopeful you can help me too.” She went to Hadrian and bussed his cheek. “Afternoon, my boy. I trust your arm is no longer paining you?”
“It hardly pained me at all, Mother,” he said with a patient smile.
“What a nasty business to have been shot,” the dowager countess said with a cluck of her tongue. “There shall be none of that with what I am hiring you to do,” she said to Tilda before taking a seat at the table where tea had been laid out. “Do I need to pour?” She looked at Hadrian and then at Tilda.
“I can,” Tilda offered, though she wondered why she’d felt the need. She wasn’t the hostess here. Perhaps she thought an earl shouldn’t pour tea, which was silly. As she poured into their cups, she had an eerie sensation, almost as if she were watching herself at the tea table. She didn’t belong in an earl’s drawing room pouring tea, for heaven’s sake.
She added milk and sugar to their cups as they directed, then added a bit of sugar to her own before sitting. As Hadrian sat along with her, she belatedly realized she ought to have sat to pour. Further proof that she had no business in this environment. And yet, she needed to learn if she intended to have clients such as the dowager Countess of Ravenhurst.
Hadrian sipped his tea, then fixed his gaze on his mother. “I am on tenterhooks waiting to hear why you need Miss Wren’s help.”
“I don’t want to hear any admonishment about any of this,” she said sternly to him. “Do you understand?”
Appearing alarmed, Hadrian frowned slightly. “Of course, but such a warning does not herald a sense of comfort.”
“I just don’t want you to counsel me,” the dowager added with a sniff.
“I will not, Mama.”
Lady Ravenhurst turned to Tilda. “I have recently begun consulting with a medium.”
Hadrian had taken a drink of tea and now coughed.
The dowager glanced at him with slightly narrowed eyes before returning her attention to Tilda. “She says she can communicate with Gabriel. Miss Wren, I want you to determine if she is authentic.”
Tilda slid a look toward Hadrian and noted that his neck was red above his collar. His lips were pressed together as if he were trying very hard not to speak. Whilst she could understand his agitation—the notion of speaking with the dead was ludicrous—she also needed to listen to her client.
Unless she decided that she couldn’t help the dowager. Just as Tilda didn’t work for men who sought divorces, she wouldn’t undertake an investigation she didn’t think she could do. And authenticating a medium may very well fall into that category.
Except.
Except Hadrian saw visions that could not be explained. What if this medium could speak with the dead? Didn’t Tilda at least have to try to find answers? Indeed, she was eager to.
Furthermore, Hadrian must help her. Perhaps this medium could even help him with his ability.
Tilda smiled at Hadrian’s mother. “I will be glad to help, Lady Ravenhurst. Allow me to take notes whilst you provide the necessary details.”
She risked another look at Hadrian who was glowering in her direction. He was not happy that Tilda had accepted this challenge.
It would be up to her to convince him that it was necessary—for his mother and for him.
Don’t miss the next book in the Raven & Wren series, A WHISPER AND A CURSE when Tilda and Hadrian are drawn into a deadly game where mediums across London are falling victim to the “Levitation Killer.”