Chapter 7
Hadrian slept a bit later than usual the following morning. Worried about Tilda and how badly she’d taken Miss Chadwick’s death, he’d tossed restlessly well into the night.
He understood Tilda didn’t want to be emotional in her work and was concerned being so may reflect poorly on her.
However, she could not let herself be immune to sensitivity.
Hadn’t she noticed that Teague had also been distraught?
He’d probably become quite good at hiding how he felt, but there was no mistaking his distress over Miss Chadwick’s murder. They all felt horribly.
Their visit to the Chadwicks had been agonizing.
Mrs. Chadwick had been inconsolable, and understandably so.
Mr. Chadwick had been devastated, but he’d quickly become furious.
He’d railed at Teague and even more at Tilda, who hadn’t so much as flinched in the face of his fury.
She’d been the soul of calm and compassion throughout the entire encounter.
Hadrian had wanted to intervene on her behalf, but she’d sent him a decidedly steely stare, and he’d kept quiet. When they’d ridden home in the coach after, she’d allowed him to hold her in his arms, and he hoped that by the time they parted, she felt better. She’d seemed to.
After eating breakfast, Hadrian went to his study. His butler, Collier, typically set out a few newspapers atop his desk. One of the headlines on the front page of the Daily News caught his attention:
SPRING-HEELED JACK AND A LONDON TRAGEDY
Pulse hammering, Hadrian snatched up the paper, his gaze moving rapidly over the article. Right away, he saw Tilda’s name.
The story was a sensational account of Miss Chadwick’s kidnapping by Spring-heeled Jack. It resurrected every piece of lore to do with the phantom legend. Hadrian’s blood boiled when he reached the paragraph about Tilda.
Chadwick had been interviewed and stated that he’d hired Miss Wren to find his daughter. The article explained how she’d ignored Spring-heeled Jack’s instructions and involved the Metropolitan Police. As a result, his daughter had been murdered despite Chadwick paying the ransom.
The article did not say that Chadwick had interfered with their plan to capture the kidnapper, nor did it explain the caution exercised by the Met and the near impossibility that the kidnapper could have been aware of their involvement.
Chadwick’s account made it look as if Tilda was entirely at fault and that the Met hadn’t been able to prevent her incompetence.
Hadrian’s anger spiked. The least the reporter could have done would have been to interview Tilda as well. He looked to see who’d written the offensive rubbish and became incensed: Ezra Clement!
They’d worked with Clement on several cases, sharing information and helping one another. Why would he do this to Tilda? Hadrian crumpled the paper and swore.
He swung toward the door, intent on going straight to Clement and demanding to know how he could do this without speaking to Tilda.
He stopped and took a breath. He should see Tilda first and make sure she was all right.
She would likely have read this, and it would not have improved her mood—or the guilt she’d been feeling over Miss Chadwick’s death.
Hadrian continued toward the door, but Collier appeared on the other side of the threshold. “My lord, Lady Ravenhurst is here to see you. She’s waiting in the front sitting room.”
Hadrian’s jaw twitched as a wave of frustration crested within him. As much as he wanted to ignore his mother and be on his way to Tilda, he ought to see what she needed since she typically didn’t arrive unannounced.
“Thank you, Collier.”
Hadrian strode past the butler and went to the sitting room, where his mother sat perched in a chair near the hearth. She still wore her hat and gloves, which made him think she did not intend to stay long. He was grateful for that at least.
“Good morning, Mother.” He hoped he didn’t sound as harried as he felt. “Is there some emergency?”
“Perhaps.” She appeared flustered. Her cheeks were slightly pink, and her lips were pursed.
Hadrian set his impatience aside. “You’ve caught me as I was preparing to leave.”
“Well, this is important. Do sit down.” She used her most motherly tone, and Hadrian decided to sit—for now.
“What is it?” He tried not to convey his irritation.
“I read a disturbing article in the Daily News this morning. Perhaps you saw it?”
Hadrian clenched his jaw and flexed his hands against his thighs. “Yes.”
His mother looked at him with wide, expectant eyes. “That’s all you have to say?”
“I assume you’re referring to the article about Miss Chadwick.
It’s a terrible tragedy.” Why did she want to speak to Hadrian about it?
He could only think she was curious about Tilda’s involvement and since they worked together, perhaps she wanted to know if Hadrian had also participated in the investigation.
“It’s absolutely awful.” She shook her head and closed her eyes briefly. “But I’ve come to speak with you regarding the part about Miss Wren. Please tell me you were not part of the investigation she conducted. I assume not, since I didn’t see you mentioned, but I wanted to be sure.”
Hadrian froze. Why hadn’t Chadwick included him in his blame? Hadrian hadn’t thought he could become angrier, but somehow he did. He suspected Chadwick had gone directly to the Daily News to tell them this story and besmirch Tilda. Chadwick had vowed to ensure she never worked again.
“In fact, I was part of the investigation,” Hadrian replied coolly. “Please understand that the article left out some important facts. It’s a sensational piece meant to stir people up.”
“Was it really Spring-heeled Jack?” Her hand fluttered to her chest. “I hate to think he’s returned and is doing more than just terrorizing young women. To think he would kidnap and kill is unconscionable.”
“It is indeed.” Hadrian’s patience was stretched thread thin. “I was actually on my way out. We can discuss this another time.” He started to rise, but she waved him back down.
“I haven’t said what I came to say. I’m most concerned about Miss Wren. That newspaper article does not reflect well on her at all. Perhaps you ought to distance yourself from her, at least until the gossip dies down.”
“What gossip?” Hadrian asked angrily. “The newspaper only came out this morning.”
“I’m sure there will be gossip and plenty of it. The Chadwicks have a great many friends.”
“I would never distance myself from Tilda.” Hadrian noted the flare of his mother’s nostrils as he used Tilda’s given name.
“I’m not asking you to do so permanently, just for a little while,” she said with a cajoling tone. “You certainly shouldn’t be trailing around after Miss Wren whilst she conducts her investigations. I don’t really understand why you do that.”
“Yes, you do,” he insisted, growing quite cross.
“I’m helpful to her because of my special skill.
” He’d told his mother about his ability to experience others’ memories very recently.
He’d been afraid to do so for some time, but she’d been supportive and kind.
Whereas today she was being condescending and superior.
“That is not the only reason I work with Tilda, however,” Hadrian added. “I enjoy doing so. We have a wonderful partnership.”
Deep pleats furrowed his mother’s brow. “You keep calling her Tilda, and you should not be so familiar. Don’t you care that she’s going to be maligned for how she botched this investigation? It’s apparently her fault Miss Chadwick was killed.”
Hadrian bolted to his feet. “That’s completely untrue!”
His mother’s eyes rounded, and her jaw dropped briefly. He almost never raised his voice like that and certainly not to his mother. Clenching his hands into fists, he fought to take a deep breath. He straightened his hands and flexed his shoulders.
“Forgive me. I did not mean to react in that way, but it’s not her fault that Miss Chadwick was killed.
That article did not portray all the facts of the investigation.
Chadwick blames Tilda, and he provided the fodder for that nonsense.
I don’t understand why he doesn’t also blame me.
I made it clear I supported her decision.
” As he said that, Hadrian realized he’d also made it clear that it had been her decision.
He’d inadvertently helped direct the blame at her.
“Why weren’t you mentioned?”
“Because this article has been written to hurt Tilda. Mother, please don’t tell me you’d believe a biased article over what I, your son, is telling you happened.
I helped with this investigation as well as in the creation and execution of a plan to rescue Miss Chadwick.
If Tilda is to be blamed for the failure of that scheme, then I and the Met must be too—along with Chadwick.
He didn’t follow the plan and was consequently injured.
He also lost the ransom we advised him not to bring, and we were unable to apprehend the kidnapper. Tilda is not to blame.”
“Your defense of her is both extraordinary and astonishing.” His mother regarded him with slightly narrowed eyes. “I hope you don’t speak of her like that to anyone else. They might misconstrue your feelings for her.”
“There is nothing to misunderstand: I’m in love with her.” He hadn’t meant to tell his mother that today, and certainly not in this fashion when his emotions were elevated. “It’s my greatest hope that she will someday soon become my countess.”
The shock his mother had displayed when he’d shouted was nothing compared to the extreme dismay that captured her features now. She rose from her chair.
“You can’t mean to marry Miss Wren. She lacks the necessary background and the ability to be Countess of Ravenhurst. Never mind that she works for a living, and now she’s been shown to be incompetent.”
“She is not incompetent,” Hadrian snapped loudly, causing his mother to flinch.