Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
M rs. Longbotham had been absolutely delighted to help Tilda and Hadrian with their endeavor to disguise Tilda as a man so she could gain entry to Arthur’s. It turned out, there were, in fact, a few women who dressed as men at the Cock and Hen, and one of them was present and eager to transform Tilda into a gentleman. They’d made arrangements to return after dinner—via an unmarked door tucked behind a column on the facade—as they would not be going to Arthur’s until about ten o’clock.
Hadrian had then taken Tilda home so she could dine with her grandmother. Later, Tilda had explained that she had investigative work to do with Hadrian, who’d returned to fetch her. It was notable and perhaps slightly vexing that her grandmother wasn’t worried in the slightest that Tilda was going out at night to make inquiries with Hadrian. If she’d gone by herself, however, Grandmama would certainly have voiced her concern.
Back at the Cock and Hen, Tilda became Mr. William Taylor. They’d chosen a simple, innocuous name—hopefully something completely forgettable. Donning the man’s costume, Tilda looked far more fashionable than she did as herself. But the key to her transformation was the hair, which included a wig, beard, and mustache, which they affixed with an adhesive used in the theatre. When they emerged sometime later, they’d done so as Lord Ravenhurst and Mr. Taylor.
They were shortly on their way to Arthur’s where they would meet Sir Godfrey, who’d been delighted that Hadrian wanted to return, particularly after the way Louis Chambers had behaved the other night. He was also eager to meet Hadrian’s friend who was visiting from Somerset—the shy and quiet Mr. Taylor.
“You make a more than passable gentleman,” Hadrian said as the coach rolled toward St. James.
“Thank you.” Tilda pitched her voice low. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to bear this beard. It’s not particularly comfortable.”
“We won’t stay long—an hour at most. I just hope the men that I saw with Chambers are present.”
They arrived at Arthur’s and met Sir Godfrey in the vestibule. Short of stature with a thick mop of light-brown hair, Sir Godfrey appeared to be in his mid-thirties. He greeted Hadrian warmly and was eager to make Mr. Taylor’s acquaintance.
“We appreciate you allowing us to accompany you this evening whilst Taylor is in town,” Hadrian said.
“My pleasure. I’m surprised you didn’t take him to one of your clubs,” Sir Godfrey noted with a chuckle.
Hadrian inclined his head. “I plan to do so later. Forgive us if we don’t stay overly long.”
Tilda tried not to appear too interested in her surroundings, but the fact that she was inside a gentleman’s club was an entirely thrilling experience. To see what women were excluded from was both irritating and fascinating.
They moved from the vestibule into a large reception room. Hadrian leaned toward her as they walked. “This was where Chambers yelled out to me.”
“In front of so many people?” she whispered back, keeping her voice low so Sir Godfrey, who was walking in front of them, would not overhear.
“There were more people here on Thursday.”
Tilda looked about, taking in the elegant chandeliers and grand stone staircase. “Do you see any of his friends?”
“Not as of yet. But there are other rooms.”
“Didn’t you say you went upstairs?” she asked.
Sir Godfrey paused and turned around. “We could go into the library or to the drawing room upstairs. Have you any preference? There’s also the billiard room.”
“Perhaps we could have a tour,” Tilda suggested in her masculine voice.
Hadrian sent her an admiring look. “Excellent idea.”
“Then let us begin with the billiard room as it’s just through here,” Sir Godfrey said with a smile. “I confess it’s my favorite room in the club.”
“Is it?” Hadrian asked as they walked toward an archway that led to—presumably—the billiard room. “You should have told me so last time. I would have joined you in a game.”
“Perhaps tonight then.” Sir Godfrey led them into the billiard room where there were four tables.
Tilda grabbed Hadrian’s arm before they could follow Sir Godfrey to an empty table. She released him before the usual warmth she felt from touching him could distract her. “I don’t know how to play.”
“You don’t need to.”
“What about the tour? I don’t want to be stuck in here. We need to find Louis’s friends if we can.”
Hadrian’s gaze had been moving about the room as they spoke. Now his features arrested as his eyes locked on a gentleman on the other side. “That is one of them,” Hadrian whispered.
The gentleman seemed to notice Hadrian as well. His features were impassive, but he pivoted and moved toward another doorway.
“Damn, he’s leaving,” Hadrian said.
“I’ll go after him,” Tilda started toward the doorway, but Hadrian touched her arm briefly. “Is that wise?”
She arched a brow at him. “Don’t interrupt my work, Lord Ravenhurst,” she said in a deep, teasing tone.
He briefly presented his palms to her, a faint smile quirking his mouth. “A thousand apologies.”
“Just stay here with Sir Godfrey, so I can find you when I’m finished. I’ve no desire to go wandering about the club on my own.” She hastened to the doorway where the man had disappeared.
Finding herself in a small sitting room, she saw that the gentleman Hadrian had pointed out was standing at a bar speaking with a liveried employee. Tilda milled about the room for a moment while watching him. The employee gave him a drink, and Tilda moved to join him.
“What are you drinking?” she asked.
The gentleman, who was a few inches taller than Tilda, looked down at her with dark-brown eyes glinting with curiosity. “Scotch whisky.”
Tilda looked to the employee. “I’ll have the same. I’m here with Sir Godfrey.” Hadrian had explained that anything they ate or drank would be added to his account. Tilda didn’t like having someone else pay for things, but Hadrian assured her Sir Godfrey was happy to do so. Furthermore, he was more than financially able.
“I saw you with Ravenhurst,” the man said, his tone as probing as his gaze.
Happy to use his curiosity to her advantage, Tilda nodded. “Are you surprised to see him here after the other night?”
“Were you here?” the man asked. “That was quite a scene.”
“I was not, but I heard about it,” Tilda replied as she accepted her drink. She thanked the employee and turned away from him toward the room. “I’m Taylor,” she said to the man.
“Kirkham,” he replied with a nod.
They moved away from the bar. “You know Ravenhurst well then?” Kirkham asked.
“Well enough. Do you know him?”
Kirkham shook his head. “Not personally. I know Chambers though.” He grimaced. “ Knew him. Can’t believe he was killed not long after that. Makes one wonder about Ravenhurst.”
Tilda tamped down the flash of ire the man’s ridiculous comment provoked. “Wonder what?” She wanted to hear him say it.
“You know.” Kirkham gave her a meaningful look. “Perhaps he was angry enough at the way Chambers embarrassed him that he decided to ensure it never happened again.”
“I didn’t think he was particularly embarrassed about the other night. It was more that he was confused as to why Chambers had behaved so obnoxiously toward him.”
“It’s not necessarily what happened the other night,” Kirkham said as if he were imparting a secret. “But what happened a few years back—when Chambers stole Ravenhurst’s fiancée.”
Tilda shrugged. “Ravenhurst wasn’t too troubled by it, actually. He didn’t bear any ill will toward Chambers. In fact, he found Chambers’ vitriol toward him quite puzzling, if not irrational. As you pointed out, Ravenhurst is the one who ought to have been angry.”
Kirkham nodded slowly, then sipped his whisky, seeming to ponder what Tilda said. “You’re right that Ravenhurst didn’t seem upset the other night. He simply walked away. Chambers, however, went on and on about what a sneaky bastard the earl was, though now that I think of it, he didn’t offer any examples.”
“You’ve no idea why Chambers despised Ravenhurst? His grudge seems odd.”
“I haven’t a clue, but you could ask his brother, Daniel. He’s also a member, though we haven’t seen him since Louis died,” Kirkham said. He gave her a somewhat sheepish look. “In all honesty, Chambers—Louis, I mean—was a blowhard. We found him entertaining, but only in small amounts. He could become quite tiresome, particularly with his bragging about women. I felt sorry for his wife because he never once mentioned her. Though he often commented that marriage was a bore.”
What an ass , Tilda thought.
She finally took a sip of the whisky. She had to fight to hide her reaction. She hadn’t ever had the fiery brew, and it burned a path down her throat. Her eyes stung for a moment.
When she could speak, she said, “I’d heard of his reputation with women. Did he tell you about his current mistress?” Tilda hoped she wasn’t walking headfirst into a corner. She was all but certain he had a paramour.
“Oh, yes,” Kirkham rolled his eyes. “He spoke of her endlessly. She is apparently ‘the most beautiful and intoxicating female to ever draw breath.’ He would tell us about the gifts he bought her—perfume, jewelry, a fur-lined cloak. He even showed us a set of rubies before he gave them to her.”
The mention of perfume had made Tilda’s breath catch, then the rubies had stalled it completely. “A set, as in a necklace, bracelet, and earrings?”
Kirkham sipped his whisky again. “Yes. Looked as though it had belonged in his family perhaps. The case was older and a bit worn.”
Tilda was certain he was talking about the first pieces of jewelry that had disappeared from Beryl’s chamber. “Makes one wonder who the woman is.” Tilda held her breath again, waiting to see if Kirkham might know.
“He never said. But last Thursday he mentioned that he may be divorcing his wife, which led us to believe that whoever the mistress is, he could marry her. Why else would he bother with a divorce?”
Indeed.
Tilda lifted her glass to her mouth as though she were going to take a sip but only pretended to. A small bit of the whisky wetted her lips, and she gingerly licked it off. The flavor wasn’t terrible. She just wasn’t going to take another drink here where she might choke on its heat.
“Still a shame that he’s dead,” Kirkham said.
“Quite.”
Kirkham’s eyes took on an excited gleam. “There’s to be an inquest tomorrow. A couple friends and I thought we might attend. You should come along since you’re interested in Chambers.”
“I am not able to, unfortunately,” Tilda said.
“Shame, but you’ll be able to read about it in the papers.” His brows twitched as he smirked. “Might have to place a wager on the likely killer.”
“Who would that be?” If he said Hadrian, Tilda would be hard-pressed not to kick him in the most debilitating place.
“Don’t know yet,” Kirkham replied with a contemplative look. “Ask me again after the inquest.” He grinned.
Tilda nodded vaguely. “Pleasure speaking with you, Kirkham. Please excuse me.” She took her leave, making her way back to the billiard room.
Hadrian and Sir Godfrey were engaged in a game of billiards. It was Hadrian’s turn, and she watched as he knocked a white ball into a pocket.
“Well played, Ravenhurst,” Sir Godfrey said with a smile. “I would suggest we play again, but I promised the next match to Ardmore.” He inclined his head toward an older gentleman who was also watching.
“Quite all right,” Hadrian said. “Perhaps I’ll take Taylor on that tour of the club.”
Sir Godfrey gave them a sheepish look. “I forgot about that. My apologies, I’m afraid I am too easily distracted by billiards.”
Hadrian smiled. “Enjoy your game with Ardmore.”
Nodding in appreciation, Sir Godfrey turned to the older gentleman.
Hadrian came toward Tilda, his gaze dipping to the glass in her hand. “Whisky?”
“Requesting it allowed me to move close enough to Kirkham to engage him in conversation.”
“That’s his name, Kirkham? How did it go?”
“It was most informative.” She wrinkled her nose at the glass. “Though I am not sure if I care for whisky. I don’t think I can drink more of it.”
“I’ll take it,” he said with a laugh. His fingertips grazed hers, but whilst he had removed his gloves, she had not. He sipped the fiery brew and did not appear any worse off.
“That is clearly not your first time sampling whisky,” she murmured.
“No,” he said with a chuckle.
She glanced at his bare hand around the glass. “What happens when you touch that? Are you seeing any of my memories?”
His brow creased. “No. I’ve not ever seen a vision when I’ve touched something you have, or when I’ve touched you. Though I’ve done very little of the latter.” His eyes glittered with … something. Was he thinking about touching her? Was he thinking he hadn’t done it enough?
Or were those her own thoughts?
“What about someone else’s thoughts?” she asked, keeping her voice down. “And what about touching other items here in the club or shaking someone’s hand?”
“When I first grabbed the cue, I saw several flashes, but none of them were long or strong enough for me to discern anything.”
“How did that affect your head?”
“I had a mild flash of pain, but it’s gone now.” He took another sip of whisky. She realized he was putting his lips where hers had been. Heat flushed through her, and she hoped her cheeks weren’t turning pink, though the beard likely disguised it, thankfully.
She jerked her attention back to their discussion. “Such a strange power.”
“And completely unreliable,” he breathed. “Tell me about your conversation with Kirkham.”
Tilda repeated what she’d learned regarding Louis Chambers’ mistress, particularly his lavishing gifts on her, including the rubies that belonged to Beryl, and that Louis had mentioned divorce.
“Too bad Kirkham couldn’t name the paramour,” Hadrian said. “Did you happen to ask why Chambers hated me so much?”
“I did, and he had no idea. He was aware of Chambers’ dislike of you, however.”
“I think that was evident to everyone last Thursday,” he noted sardonically.
Tilda wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him about Kirkham wondering if Hadrian had killed Chambers or that tomorrow’s inquest could turn into a spectacle where Hadrian’s presence as a suspect would surely be reported upon.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Did he somehow know she was keeping something from him? Perhaps he was seeing something with the glass after all. But wouldn’t he have told her?
“I can see you are hesitant,” he said. “And concerned. You have these little pleats between your eyes.” He lifted his hand, and for a moment, she thought he meant to touch her.
He must have thought so too, for he blinked and dropped his hand with alacrity.
She was keeping something from him. Apparently, he just knew her well. “Kirkham wondered if you’d been angry enough to kill Chambers.”
Hadrian’s nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. “I wasn’t even angry the other night.”
“I told him as much,” Tilda said, eager to soothe his ire, which he was more than entitled to. “But then he pointed out that you were perhaps still upset about Chambers and Beryl. I disabused him of that notion, by the way.”
Surprise flickered in Hadrian’s eyes, and his features settled into mild amusement. “What did you say?”
She shrugged. “That you didn’t hold a grudge and had no regrets. Or something to that effect.”
“Thank you,” he said softly, his gaze reflecting his deep appreciation.
Tilda did not allow herself to look into his eyes for too long. She glanced toward the billiards table where Sir Godfrey and Ardmore were playing. “I should also warn you that Kirkham and some of his friends will likely be at the inquest tomorrow. He sees it as entertainment, I believe.”
“Spectacular,” Hadrian muttered.
“One last thing,” Tilda said. “Kirkham suggested we speak to Daniel Chambers about why Louis despised you. Apparently, he’s a member here too, but he hasn’t come in since Louis’s death. Perhaps we can speak with him after the inquest tomorrow.”
“I’d like to, if possible.” He sipped more of the whisky. “We can go now, if you like.”
“Yes, please.” Tilda was pleased with how easily she’d moved about, but for the last few minutes, a gentleman across the billiard room had been staring at her off and on. “I’m concerned there’s a man over there who may not be fooled by my disguise.”
“I see. Then let us depart after we give our regards to Sir Godfrey.”
A short while later, they were ensconced in Hadrian’s coach. Tilda wished she could remove the hair stuck to her face, but that would have to wait until they returned to the Cock and Hen where she would return to her regular appearance.
“How did it feel to be inside a gentleman’s club?” Hadrian asked with a smile.
“I confess I found it rather titillating, as well as annoying. Why can’t women be allowed?”
“Some argue that they have their own clubs.”
Tilda scoffed. “Not nearly as many or as varied.”
Hadrian inclined his head. “And some men think women would ruin things.”
“I daresay those men don’t see women as their equal or as engaging individuals to, say, play billiards with.”
“I don’t agree with those men, by the way,” Hadrian said. “You and I are the perfect example of how a man and woman can be friends and enjoy one another’s company.”
They were indeed.