Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
A fter informing Leach they would be dining at the pub, Tilda took Hadrian’s arm for the short walk. “How do we know if this is any different than the Cock and Hen?” she asked.
“You make a good observation. I suppose we will find out.” He waggled his brows at her.
They entered the River’s Edge and Tilda immediately saw that it was not like the Cock and Hen. There was a dining room where several tables were occupied.
In short order, they were seated at a table and ordered a light repast, including wine, which was delivered with alacrity.
Hadrian offered a toast. “To making progress with our investigation.”
Tilda tapped her glass to his. “I will toast to that, but I am still bothered about the postponement of the inquest.”
After sipping his wine, Hadrian set the glass down with a slight frown. “It is agitating not to know why, isn’t it?”
“Quite.” She took a second small sip of wine, then put her glass on the table. “I fear we won’t know until Monday.” After eyeing him a moment, she said, “You were very kind to offer to help Massey, particularly after he contributed to your being a suspect in Chambers’ death.”
“I am just glad he won’t be repeating that nonsense at the inquest.”
“Still, you didn’t have to offer your assistance.” Not that Tilda was surprised. Hadrian had often demonstrated his concern for others.
“I worry that the retainers in the Chambers’ household will suffer through no fault of their own.”
“Provided they are all innocent of any participation in Chambers’ death,” Tilda noted.
“Yes, of course,” Hadrian said. “This is a scandal, and it may be difficult for them to find employment. I don’t mind helping them if they need it.”
“Are all earls as kind as you?” Tilda asked bemusedly.
Hadrian laughed. “I couldn’t say.”
Their food arrived, and Tilda immersed her thoughts in the investigation whilst she ate her steak-and-kidney pie. She was nearly halfway through it before Hadrian broke the silence.
“I can practically hear you thinking,” he said with a smile. “What brilliant deductions are you making now?”
“None. I am trying to make sense of all we know. I confess I am slightly stuck on Martha and how she fits into Chambers’ murder—or if she does. Her death could simply be an accident.”
“But the timing is bizarre,” Hadrian noted.
“Perhaps I am spending too much time thinking about Martha,” Tilda said. “Let us return to Louis’s murder and what we know about that. We know the killer likely entered his bedchamber through his dressing room—and brought the knife with him.”
“Or her,” Hadrian noted. “Pity no one has found the knife.”
“I do wonder if it was the one missing from the kitchen,” she mused. “I keep thinking of people’s motives and what would have pushed them to fetch a knife from the kitchen to kill Chambers. It would not have been an act of sudden passion where the killer grabbed whatever weapon was available. They planned to kill him.”
“Since there was no evidence of anyone breaking into the Chambers’ home, it does seem as though it may have been someone in the household,” Hadrian said.
Tilda smiled. “You are beginning to sound like an investigator.”
“Thank you. I’ve an excellent instructor.” He lifted his glass once more and took a sip.
Tilda took another bite of pie. After swallowing, she said, “Using that theory, our primary suspects would be Beryl and all the retainers. That leaves you and Pollard out.”
“Well, we know I didn’t do it.”
“Of course. But I don’t think we can discount Pollard yet. Especially since we don’t know why the inquest was postponed. I must presume there is evidence of which we are unaware.”
“Let us focus on the retainers for now,” Hadrian said. “Massey didn’t think Clara would have done it.”
“I’m not sure he’s reliable. He lied about you having an affair with Beryl—or at least he misled Teague. He also has a strong motive. Chambers knew his secret and had threatened to expose Massey. He’d also treated Martha, whom Massey liked, poorly.”
“What of the cook, housekeeper, and butler?”
Tilda picked up her wineglass. “I am not aware of any specific motives they may have. Unless they simply didn’t like Chambers. He seemed to be rather disagreeable.” She sipped her wine.
“That is a diplomatic way of putting it,” Hadrian said drily. “He was a blackguard.”
Setting her glass down a touch harder than she meant to, Tilda sloshed a bit of wine on her hand. She wiped it away with her napkin. “There is also Oliver Chambers. He wanted to invest in the drapery store, but his brother was possibly standing in his way.”
Hadrian cocked his head. “That seems a flimsy reason to kill one’s brother. But then I can’t think of a good reason to kill anyone, unless it’s to defend oneself—or someone they care about.” He looked directly at Tilda as he added the last part, and she wondered if he was thinking of how he’d fought to defend her from the murderer they’d apprehended with Teague’s help.
They fell silent for a moment as they finished their meals. Hadrian spoke next, saying that there likely wasn’t much to be done tomorrow since it was Sunday.
“I would very much like to speak with Oliver as well as the oldest Chambers brother, as well as Pollard,” Tilda said. “However, I don’t think any of them would care to be bothered on a Sunday.”
Hadrian gave her a wry look. “Probably not. It’s just as well there’s not much to do tomorrow as I will be having tea with my mother for our fortnightly appointment.”
“It’s an ‘appointment’?” Tilda asked with a chuckle.
“It’s required .” Hadrian exhaled. “Since I was stabbed, she is keen to make sure I am doing well. It is a mother’s responsibility, I suppose.”
Tilda wasn’t sure she agreed. At least, she didn’t think it was a responsibility her own mother would adhere to. “That’s nice that she cares so much.”
“It’s also her opportunity to pester me about marriage again. I’ve an heir to beget, you see.” He leaned forward and whispered as if it were a secret, “I’ve a cousin who can inherit, so it’s really not important.”
Tilda had thought it was vitally important for peers to ensure their legacy, but who was she to question such a thing?
They finished their dinner and prepared to depart. Hadrian held her chair as she rose. “Shall I fetch you for the inquest on Monday?”
She looked over her shoulder at him with a smile. “Yes, thank you.”
Hadrian paid for their meal, and as they made their way to the door, his hand grazed the small of Tilda’s back. A pleasant shiver danced along her spine.
She thought of earlier, when he’d caught her in his arms at the lodging house. When the jolt of fear had passed, she’d become very aware of his strength and heat. The sensation had surpassed comfort and sent her somewhere she’d never been—a place where she yearned for more of his touch. Of his care.
The thought troubled her. She didn’t want that from someone, especially a man. She could comfort and care for herself.
When Hadrian settled himself beside her in the coach, that awareness returned. He was close enough that she could occasionally detect his masculine scent, and it was annoyingly stirring.
It seemed they were becoming closer each time they were together. Was that bad?
Yes.
Their closeness could not move beyond friendship. Tilda wasn’t interested in romance, not that Hadrian was suggesting that. She liked how things were between them, and she would do her best to keep them that way.
H adrian was pleased that his mother had spent the first part of their fortnightly tea discussing his sisters and their children. Having her attention on them instead of him always put him at ease. Which made him wonder why her desire for him to wed bothered him so much. Was it because he’d tried once already, and the experience had ended disappointingly? He acknowledged that the end of his betrothal to Beryl had soured him. But he also hadn’t spent much time thinking about it. Now that Beryl had reentered his life, he supposed it was natural for him to think about marriage and why he wasn’t pursuing it.
Was he really going to allow what had happened four years ago with Beryl and Chambers to prevent him from taking a wife? And it wasn’t just about fulfilling his duty, which he ought to consider even if he said otherwise. What about the potential for love and a family? Did he really not want that?
“Oh!” his mother said, startling him from his thoughts as he lifted his teacup to his lips. “I can’t believe I didn’t mention this straightaway. I read about Louis Chambers’ death. What a horrid business!”
After swallowing a sip of tea, Hadrian set his cup down on the saucer. “Quite.” He considered telling her he was providing assistance to Beryl, but his mother had been very upset when they’d ended their betrothal. Hadrian didn’t wish to bring any of that up.
“I’m so concerned for Beryl,” his mother went on. “She must be devastated. I will send a note and perhaps call on her when she is feeling up to it.” The dowager countess fixed her blue eyes, which were exactly like Hadrian’s, on him. “You should do the same. I’m sure she’d be pleased to hear from you.”
Damn. If Hadrian didn’t reveal that he was already involved in the investigation and his mother found out, she would be angry with him for keeping that from her. That was a risk he was willing to take. “Er, probably.” Hadrian squirmed in his chair.
“I liked her very much,” his mother went on, clucking her tongue. “I was so disappointed when you didn’t wed. And now look how things have ended up. I’m sure she regrets not marrying you.” She gave Hadrian an expectant look. Was she hoping he would say he felt the same?
“We were not suited,” Hadrian said, glad he hadn’t told her that he’d not only seen Beryl but was a suspect in Louis’s murder.
“I think you were more upset by that dissolution than you ever let on,” his mother said with a probing stare. “Why else would you not have courted or married since? Perhaps when Beryl’s mourning period is over, you can try again.”
Hadrian had picked up his teacup and was relieved he hadn’t taken a drink, for he would have choked on the liquid. Before he could respond to that outrageous suggestion, his butler, Collier, entered the drawing room.
“My lord, Miss Wren has arrived and requests an audience.”
“Did you invite her to join us for tea as I suggested?” the dowager countess asked. She’d met Tilda a fortnight ago when she was last here.
Blast. How was he to explain Tilda’s presence without mentioning the investigation they were working on? The one where she was working to prove he was innocent of killing Beryl’s husband. Could he really hope to keep it secret from her?
“I did not.” He exhaled. “As it happens, Miss Wren is conducting an investigation into Chambers’ death, and I am assisting her.” He would leave out the part about him being a suspect, for his mother would only worry unnecessarily.
Hadrian looked at Collier, who was standing in the doorway, his features a mask of disinterest. “Please show Miss Wren up.”
Inclining his head in silent response, the butler pivoted and departed.
“You must have spoken to Beryl. Why wouldn’t you say so?” The dowager countess pursed her lips at him.
“I didn’t want to discuss the matter with you.” Hadrian spoke with an edge, hoping it would deter her from prodding further.
“Because you didn’t want to talk about Beryl or your missed opportunity at marriage,” his mother said with considerable exasperation.
“It was not a ‘missed opportunity.’”
His mother took a drink of tea and fumed at him over the edge of the cup. “You have avoided discussing marriage since then.”
Hadrian tried to avoid discussing it, but his mother continued to ensure they did. “It hasn’t interested me, and it still doesn’t.”
Throwing her hands up, she made a sound low in her throat. “You can be so very frustrating on this matter. You need an heir. Do you want your cousin to inherit?” She didn’t wait for his reply as she barreled onward. “If only your brother hadn’t died. I’m sure he would be wed by now. Then I needn’t worry about you.”
Hadrian’s insides twisted. His mother rarely mentioned her youngest child, Gabriel, but when she did, he never failed to react viscerally. Gabriel’s death in India just a year after their father had died had been a blow to the family.
Indeed, Hadrian knew Gabriel would be married by now. He’d written to Hadrian before he’d become ill saying he’d fallen in love and hoped to marry, if her family would permit it. Hadrian had never told his mother about it, thinking the knowledge would only make her sadder about losing her child.
Hadrian realized Tilda was standing just inside the threshold of the drawing room, clutching her reticule. Fine lines creased her forehead, revealing her concern. Had she heard what his mother had said about Gabriel? Hadrian hadn’t ever discussed his youngest sibling with Tilda.
Standing, Hadrian welcomed Tilda. “Please, come join us.”
Tilda walked hesitantly toward the table near the windows where his mother was still seated. “Good afternoon, Lady Ravenhurst.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Wren. How pleasant to see you again. I understand you’re helping dear Beryl Chambers with the great tragedy that has befallen her.”
That was not what Hadrian had said at all. He’d said they were investigating. He gritted his teeth.
“I am,” Tilda replied with a nod. “In fact, I’ve come to speak to … Lord Ravenhurst about a development. I’m sorry to interrupt.” Had she been about to refer to him by his given name? Hadrian was glad she had not, for that would have piqued his mother’s curiosity to no end.
Tilda must have important news to share. Hadrian’s pulse ticked up, and he hoped his mother would realize she ought to go. However, that seemed unlikely. She was likely annoyed that their tea had been disturbed.
“You are more than welcome,” his mother said with enthusiasm.
A maid entered with another tea setting and deposited it on the table before taking her leave.
“Thank you,” Tilda said as she took one of the empty chairs at the table, which put her between Hadrian and his mother.
The dowager countess poured Tilda’s tea as Hadrian retook his seat. He hoped his mother would leave soon, for he was anxious to hear Tilda’s news.
“I am fascinated that you are a private investigator,” his mother said whilst stirring sugar into her tea. “What an awful situation for Beryl.” His mother wrinkled her nose as if she were smelling the worst sort of offal. “I can’t imagine why you’d want to involve yourself in something so unpleasant.”
“I enjoy investigative work, my lady,” Tilda said pleasantly. “My father was a sergeant with the Metropolitan Police.”
“Ah yes, Hadrian had mentioned that. And that your grandfather was a well-known magistrate. Still, you don’t find a … murder to be distasteful?”
“I find murder to be abominable, which is why I am eager to bring the responsible party to justice,” Tilda said evenly.
“That is most … enterprising of you. What does your family think of you doing that?”
“My grandmother, with whom I live, is very proud of me,” Tilda said simply.
The dowager countess smiled. “That’s lovely.” She picked up her cup to finish her tea. “Well, I suppose I will be on my way so you can discuss whatever it is you need to discuss.”
Hadrian rose. “Delightful to see you, Mother, as always.” He moved to hold her chair as she stood.
“I’ll see you soon, dear. Please give Beryl my very best.”
“I’ll do that.” Hadrian escorted his mother to the doorway, then bussed her cheek.
“Miss Wren.” His mother waved her fingers at Tilda before departing.
Hadrian returned to the table where Tilda was watching him with interest. “You must have something important to share.”
“In a moment,” she said. “Your mother seems fond of Beryl. Was she disappointed when you and she didn’t wed?”
“Yes, but I don’t know that it had anything to do with the bride in particular. She just wants me to marry.”
“I did hear that she wants you to have an heir.” Tilda gave him a gentle, understanding look. “That must induce stress for you.”
“Somewhat, but I have mostly learned to ignore her.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” she said, confirming that she’d heard all that.
He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t speak of him often. He died of cholera five years ago in India. My father had died the year before, so it was a difficult time, particularly for my mother.”
“Were you and your brother close?”
“When we were younger. He was still a boy when I went off to school.” Hadrian frowned at his teacup. He wished they’d been close, especially since their father had been so cold. But Hadrian had been focused on his own life and growing up. He couldn’t wait to leave home. “I’d looked forward to when we might grow closer in adulthood.” But they would never have that chance.
“I’m sorry,” Tilda said softly. “I don’t know what it’s like to have siblings, let alone lose them.”
Hadrian blinked a few times, then straightened. “You did not come here to be weighed down by melancholy. What news do you bring? I am most anxious to hear.”
She’d taken another sip of tea and now set her cup back in the saucer. Her gaze met his, and for the first time since her arrival, he saw deep concern. It made him apprehensive. Had she engaged in conversation to postpone whatever it was she needed to say?
“Teague called on me earlier. He had information to share. Apparently, Louis Chambers consulted with a solicitor about divorcing Beryl. The solicitor said Louis was certain she was having an affair.” She paused, and now she looked apprehensive. “With you.”
Hadrian swore under his breath.
“I heard that,” Tilda said mildly.
“My apologies,” Hadrian murmured. “Is Teague coming to interrogate me?”
She shook her head. “He already did so the other day. I just thought you should know of this development.”
Hadrian was both relieved and pleased that she would come to tell him.
She laid her bare hand atop the table. “I am sorry you keep getting dragged back into this mess.”
“Why does Chambers keep telling everyone that I was having an affair with his wife? Is it because he appears to have been holding a grudge against me for some perceived slight?”
“It is noticeable,” Tilda said with a slight frown. “Perhaps the reason behind Chambers’ hatred of you is important. I apologize for discounting it.”
“I think I will visit Arthur’s tonight and make some inquiries amongst Chambers’ friends.” He sent her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry you can’t accompany me.”
“Can you go without being a member?” Tilda asked. “I realize your title has extraordinary privilege, but surely it doesn’t extend to that.”
“I will go with my colleague who invited me the other night,” Hadrian replied. “Provided he is able.”
“I regret I cannot come along.” She frowned with disappointment.
Hadrian was sorry too. “Perhaps you could dress as a man.”
Tilda smirked. “I don’t think I’d make a passable gentleman.”
“I disagree. You’ve demonstrated your ability to affect a Cockney accent with ease and blend in at a tavern in the east end as well as in a horrible rookery. Why not a gentleman from Mayfair? If you wore a hat and did not remove it, you could fool people.”
“I think it would be more complicated than that,” Tilda said with a chuckle. “Too bad we can’t consult with Mrs. Longbotham at the Cock and Hen. Perhaps she could help disguise me.”
Hadrian thought that was a brilliant idea. “Why not? Let’s go there now.”
“Dressing as a man may not be Mrs. Longbotham’s forte,” she said wryly. “I suppose we could try. I would very much like to accompany you to Arthur’s. My only hesitation is what would happen if I was discovered. I would hate to cause trouble for you or your friend, whose membership could be at stake.”
“If we keep to the shadows and corners, I daresay the ploy could succeed. Do we have the courage?”
“Or foolhardiness?” she asked with a laugh.
“Perhaps a little of both.” Hadrian smiled with a lift of his shoulder.
“You don’t need to accompany me to the Cock and Hen,” Tilda said. “I can take a hack and then you can pick me up later to go to the club, assuming your friend agrees to take us.”
“Thank you for reminding me that I must dash off a note to him. I can have Leach deliver it whilst we are at the Cock and Hen.” He watched faint lines form between her brows. “I would feel better if you allowed me to join you.” He didn’t like thinking of her in a brothel by herself, even if they had already made the acquaintance of multiple people in residence.
She gave him a patient smile. “I am an investigator and able to manage such things. I believe you even complimented my ability to blend in with others. Furthermore, I’ve been taking care of myself for years. Long before I met you.”
Yes, she was a capable, independent woman. He admired that very much about her, even if a part of him wanted her to need him. Perhaps just a little.
“All right,” he said in defeat. “You don’t need me. May I come anyway?”
Tilda laughed. “I suppose you may.”
“Excellent.” Hadrian smiled in relief. “Now, excuse me a moment whilst I quickly draft a note to Sir Godfrey to ask if we may accompany him to the club. I’ll have Leach deliver it whilst we are at the Cock and Hen.” He went to a small writing desk in the corner and quickly scratched out a note.
“Ready?” he asked.
Tilda nodded, and they left the drawing room. “I do apologize for intruding on your tea with your mother,” she said.
“You’ve no need to apologize.” Hadrian smiled briefly. “But don’t be surprised if I invite you properly for our next one or the one after. My mother will not forget that you have arrived during two of our appointed meetings. Nor will she soon forget that you are investigating a murder .”
“I hope she doesn’t think poorly of me for that.”
“She will not,” Hadrian said firmly. “It is simply something she could never understand—a woman investigating such a thing.”
“Then you must ensure she doesn’t find out I’ve visited a brothel. Or that I’m going there a second time.”
Hadrian barked a laugh. “I don’t want her to know I’ve visited a brothel. I won’t be divulging any of our investigative secrets to her or anyone else.”
She looked over at him as they reached the entrance hall. “And that is why we make a good team.”