Chapter 9
The following morning, Tilda waited in the parlor and watched for Hadrian’s coach. As soon as she saw Leach, she dashed to the entrance hall.
Vaughn shuffled to open the door for her. “What time shall we expect you back?”
“I’m not certain.” After their errand in Richmond, they would attend the inquest regarding Delia Chadwick’s murder. “It could be late this afternoon.”
“Very good,” Vaughn said with a nod.
“Thank you, Vaughn.” Tilda sailed through the door, clutching her reticule.
Hadrian had just stepped out of the coach as she quickly approached. “You’re in a hurry.”
“I’m keen to interview Vincent Chadwick.” She smiled at the coachman. “Good morning, Leach.”
“Good morning, Miss Wren. His lordship has directed me on what to look for in Richmond.” The coachman regarded her with resolve. “I’ll find the tobacconist with a view of the Thames.”
Tilda thanked him as he helped her into the coach. Hadrian climbed in after her, and Leach closed the door.
“Did you sleep well?” Hadrian asked after he was settled beside her.
“Better than some of the most recent nights,” she replied, adjusting her skirts and setting her reticule in her lap.
“I confess I’m anxious to find Vincent Chadwick.
I spent far too much time trying to determine how he fits into the kidnapping and murder of his sister, as well as the kidnapping of his secret paramour. I still have no idea.”
“Well, I plan to shake his hand the moment we meet him,” Hadrian said.
“Your head is recovered then?”
“Indeed. I took a lavender bath last night, and that helped immensely. My valet has noted my sudden penchant for lavender. He found it an odd choice for a gentleman—unless I’m trying to eradicate lice, which he assures me I don’t have.”
Tilda had met Sharp. He possessed a wry sense of humor. “I’m glad to hear you’re not infested. Did you give him a reason for your newfound love of lavender?”
“I told him I liked it, and he was not to scold me about it. He also asked if it was, by chance, the scent that you wear.” He rushed to add.
“I have not told him much about us. However, as my valet, he knows me rather intimately and was perhaps aware of my emotional attachment to you—or to someone—before I was.”
She laughed softly. “I can’t decide if that’s wonderful or horrifying. Are you not able to hide anything from him? How is he unaware of your ability to experience others’ memories?”
“Only because it doesn’t happen much at home, which is convenient since, yes, it’s challenging to hide things from him, not that I need to. I’ve never had much to hide.”
They fell silent for a few minutes before Tilda realized Hadrian was watching her somewhat apprehensively. “Is there something wrong?” she asked.
He grimaced faintly. “I need to confess something, and I’m rather upset with myself about it. I may have revealed our private courtship to my mother.”
Tilda’s eyes rounded, and her jaw tightened. “You may have?”
“I did. But it was an accident,” he assured her quickly. “We were discussing Clement’s idiotic newspaper article, and I became rather passionate in my defense of you. That’s when I blurted that I was in love with you and hoped— Well, that’s what I said.”
She wasn’t sure what he’d been going to say after “hoped,” but decided she didn’t want to ask. She could guess, and that wasn’t a conversation she was ready to have.
“Why did you have to defend me about the article?” Now Tilda felt apprehensive.
Hadrian hesitated the barest amount, as if he had to choose his words carefully, which did not soothe her anxiety. “My mother called because she was concerned after reading the article. You know she thinks you’re an excellent detective, and she didn’t care to see your reputation maligned.”
“How nice,” Tilda said softly. “What was her reaction to what you said?”
“She was happy for me—and for you too.”
Tilda wasn’t entirely sure she believed him. Again, he’d hesitated, and she had to think that, as much as Lady Ravenhurst believed in her as an investigator, she likely wouldn’t want someone like her as a daughter-in-law. Tilda was simply not countess material.
“I’d like to host a dinner in a few days for you and your grandmother and my mother,” Hadrian proposed. “One of my sisters will be visiting, and I want you to meet her.”
Tilda’s brows arched briefly. “The timing of that will be dependent on our case.”
“You can’t work around the clock,” Hadrian noted.
Irritation rose rapidly in Tilda. “I absolutely will, if I must, in order to save Lady Priscilla. She was kidnapped in the identical manner as Miss Chadwick, and we cannot allow the same result.”
“Of course, you’re right.” Hadrian’s tone was contrite. “I apologize. If it’s possible, I would like you to come to dinner.”
“I will try.”
“If you can’t, I’ll be with you. I’m not going to have dinner with my family whilst you’re out investigating alone.”
Tilda gave him a sardonic look. “I did that for some time before we met.”
“Isn’t this better?” His tone was mildly flirtatious, but she didn’t call him out. Investigating with him was better.
Tilda turned her mind to theorizing about the case again. They reviewed what they knew and their outstanding questions until they arrived in Richmond, at which point both she and Hadrian were looking out the windows, trying to see a tobacconist on a corner.
After perhaps half an hour of driving about, Hadrian pointed to the window. “There it is. I knew Leach would find it.”
Tilda craned her neck to see out his side.
“Excellent.” She turned her head, which brought her face quite close to Hadrian’s.
He was an attractive man, and at this proximity she couldn’t help admiring the silvery outline at the edge of his blue irises as well as the lush thickness of his black lashes.
He was also wealthy and powerful. She could scarcely believe he would want someone like her as a countess, but with each passing day, she became more certain he did.
And whilst that was thrilling, it was perhaps even more terrifying.
The coach came to a stop, and Tilda settled back against the squab. Hadrian sighed, and she had the sense he was disappointed she hadn’t kissed him. In truth, the idea had stolen into her thoughts, but she’d worked—almost successfully—to ignore it.
Leach opened the door and helped Tilda to the pavement. Hadrian followed, then escorted her into the tobacconist’s shop. The scent of various kinds of tobacco from all over the world was overwhelming.
A long oak counter stretched along the left side of the shop. Windows at the front and on the right side offered milky light.
They walked to the counter behind which a shopkeeper stood. He was of middling height with nearly black hair and darker skin.
“May I help you?” he asked in a distinctly Welsh accent.
“I’m Lord Ravenhurst, and this is my associate, Miss Wren. We’re looking for one of your clients, Mr. Vincent Chadwick.”
“Chadwick comes in often, sometimes just to chat. He seems a bit lonely.” The shopkeeper smiled at them. “Have you come to visit him? I think he’d like that. He says he has to stay here for a few months and he’s eager to go home, though I don’t know where that is.”
“We are here to visit,” Hadrian confirmed with a smile. “However, I forgot the exact building he’s lodging in. Can you direct us to the right place?”
“Three houses down, my lord. Boarding house run by Mrs. Block.”
“Excellent. Thank you,” Hadrian said kindly as he offered Tilda his arm, then escorted her from the shop. He informed Leach of their destination, and they continued along the pavement to Mrs. Block’s boarding house where Hadrian knocked.
A few moments later, a woman opened the door. She was petite and plump and wore a white apron and cap.
Hadrian smiled pleasantly. “Good afternoon. I’m Lord Ravenhurst. This is my associate, Miss Wren. We’re looking for one of your lodgers, Mr. Vincent Chadwick.”
“He’s not here,” she replied.
Tilda suffered a wave of disappointment. “When do you expect him to return?”
The woman shrugged. “Don’t know. I think my husband saw him leave with a valise.”
“So, he could be gone for a few days?” Hadrian asked.
“I wouldn’t know,” the landlady replied.
“Did you see him with anyone else—a young woman, perhaps?” Tilda was hopeful for any information that might help them.
“Why would he be with a young woman? He lived alone. He’s a good lodger. He doesn’t stay out late. He’s not a drunkard. He pays on time.”
“How long has he lived here?” Tilda asked. “And does he regularly leave with a valise for periods of time?”
“Close to two months, I’d say. And no, he hasn’t left with a valise before.” The landlady’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking all these questions about Mr. Chadwick?”
“We’ve an urgent matter to speak with him about,” Hadrian replied. “Do you know when he might return?”
“I don’t. But I’ll tell him you were inquiring about him.”
Hadrian inclined his head with another smile. “Thank you for your time.”
She closed the door, and Tilda turned toward the street with a frown.
“That was an unfortunate result,” Hadrian said. “But perhaps Chadwick did, in fact, elope with Lady Priscilla. She could have been waiting somewhere whilst he fetched his things.”
Tilda’s frown deepened. “I’m disappointed we couldn’t access his room for you to touch anything, but I didn’t think it was even worth asking.”
“I agree the landlady would have told us no if we had.” Hadrian escorted Tilda to the coach.
“You were awfully quick,” Leach said.
“Chadwick’s gone,” Hadrian replied. “With a valise, so who knows when he’ll return.”
Leach’s features creased with sympathy. “That’s too bad. You’ll be a bit early to the inquest, but that’s all right.”
Since they had time, Tilda preferred another destination. “Actually, I’d like to speak with Lord Farnsworth.” She turned to Hadrian. “Do you know where he lives?”