Chapter 4 #2
They rode in silence again for a few moments. Hadrian did not feel as tired as he had on the trip to Hampstead Heath. His frustration was great. He would give anything to find a way to help their investigation. To help Tilda.
“You don’t have Jack’s ransom notes any longer, do you?” he asked.
“No, I gave them to Teague.”
Hadrian had thought so, but frustration flashed through him anyway. “I wanted to try to see another memory.”
Tilda blinked and pushed herself straighter against the squab. “I still have the envelope the second letter arrived in.” She opened her reticule and withdrew it. “I don’t want you to have another awful headache.”
“It’s a small price.” Which Hadrian would eagerly pay. “We need all the help we can find right now.”
Hadrian removed his glove before taking the envelope from Tilda.
As with the vision the day before, Hadrian saw a mahogany desk and a man’s hand holding a quill above a piece of parchment. Focusing his mind, Hadrian attempted to ascertain a location or a time of day, any detail at all. His head began to pound. Why was this so hard?
At last, the scent of tobacco filled his nostrils, almost overwhelmingly so. He blinked, and the vision was gone.
“Did you see something?” Tilda asked eagerly.
“Nothing I haven’t already, but I smelled something this time.” That had only happened to him once or twice before, and it didn’t occur for everyone with this ability. At least, that was Captain Vale’s experience. He did not experience smells. “It was a strong scent of tobacco.”
“What could that mean?” Tilda searched his face as if she could find the answer there.
“I saw the same memory as yesterday’s—a man’s hand about to write. I tried to discern other details about the location, but there was nothing beyond the desk. Perhaps he’s in a tobacco shop or lives near one,” Hadrian suggested.
“He could also be in a warehouse that stores tobacco.” Tilda exhaled. “There are many options, almost too many to investigate. But we could try. On our own, of course, since we can’t ask for help from Teague to investigate something we can’t explain.”
This was a problem they encountered often. It was difficult to share a lead from Hadrian’s visions when they couldn’t share how they’d obtained the information.
“Do you still want to go home?” Hadrian asked.
Tilda stifled a yawn. “I think I must. My grandmother will be going to church soon, so I can nap whilst she’s gone.
I’d like to call on Joseph Hopkins this afternoon.
After, we can make inquiries of the tutors, then Miss Chadwick’s friends tomorrow, as you suggested. ” She sent him an expectant look.
Hadrian smiled. Even if she hadn’t appeared to want him to join her, he would’ve asked. “I’d be delighted to accompany you.”
“You don’t have tea with your mother this afternoon?” Tilda asked.
“Not today. In fact, our fortnightly Sunday teas have fallen out of habit, much to her chagrin. Our investigations have taken precedence, and I’m not always able to keep the appointment.”
“That upsets her, I imagine,” Tilda said with a faint smile. “She seems to rely on you.”
She did. Hadrian was her only unmarried child and the heir.
His three sisters were wed and had children.
They were busy managing their own households.
And Hadrian’s younger brother had died several years earlier.
Since his mother lived rather close to Ravenhurst House in Mayfair, Hadrian was naturally the child she depended upon most.
Hadrian straightened his waistcoat as he adjusted on the seat. “She understands I have other commitments.”
Tilda slid him a sly look. “Does she know they’re to do with our investigations?”
“More or less.” Hadrian didn’t meet her eyes.
She laughed softly. “I don’t blame you for not telling her. I’m sure she finds it strange, if not unacceptable, that you, an earl, take time to investigate crimes with a private woman detective.”
“She doesn’t say that.” She did occasionally voice her disappointment that he didn’t give other matters the same attention he did his investigations with Tilda. Those matters mostly involved wife-hunting, which was of high importance to his mother.
“Then yes, I would appreciate your company this afternoon.”
Silence fell again until they neared Marylebone. Tilda’s dark whisper stole over him. “What if Miss Chadwick doesn’t come back? Or worse, what if she’s been harmed?”
Hadrian wanted to hold her, but he also didn’t want to overstep. “My shoulder is here,” he offered. “If you’d like to rest your head on it.”
“Only if you put your arms around me too,” she said, filling him with a deep and abiding warmth.
“Nothing would make me happier.” He slid his arms around her, and she pressed against him, laying her head on his shoulder.
“Miss Chadwick will come back,” he assured her, hoping so with all his heart.
“You don’t know that.”
No, he did not. And the truth was he feared Teague was right. The odds of Miss Chadwick returning lessened with each passing day.