Chapter 16 #2
She bent over the desk and looked at the cap.
“I’m not sure what to look for. It appears to be a simple cap.
We can suppose it’s part of the device Spring-heeled Jack uses to create his blue flamed breath, but we can’t know for sure.
Furthermore, how would a device and a cap like this even be produced? ”
Hadrian picked up the cap to inspect it. He still wore his gloves and hadn’t removed them for the experiment either. Because if he did, he risked seeing someone’s memory and he was being careful, just as he’d promised. Tilda smiled to herself.
“May I?” Hadrian glanced at Tilda’s magnifying glass.
She handed him the instrument, and he held it in front of his eye as he pulled the cap close. “This has file marks along the edge, and it’s somewhat crudely made. I don’t see a maker’s mark. I wonder if this is the sort of prop a mechanist at a theatre would create.”
“Excellent observation, Raven.” Teague put his hands on his hips as he narrowed his eyes in thought. “Though, I don’t know how we’ll find Spring-heeled Jack amongst all the theatres in London. If he even works at a theatre.”
“We should start with any theatres the Chadwicks or Alnwicks frequented,” Tilda suggested.
“Good idea,” Teague said as Hadrian set the cap back on the desk. “When Wycombe returns from the magistrate’s court, we’ll go to Alnwick House and to Belgrave Square to determine their theatre habits.”
Tilda had a sudden thought. “Do you have a newspaper?” she asked Teague.
The detective inspector gestured to the corner of his desk. “Those are this morning’s dailies.”
Tilda picked up the first one and turned to the theatrical column. She smiled and peered over the top of the paper at Hadrian. “Would you like to attend the theatre tonight? The Brittania is advertising a play with fire effects.” She arched her brows.
Hadrian bowed. “I should be delighted to attend the theatre with you.”
Teague eyed her with admiration. “Brilliant. You can question the property master afterward and ask if he’s able to make a device like the one we’ve just experimented with. Hopefully you won’t have any trouble gaining access.”
“I’m sure the Earl of Ravenhurst will be able to speak with whomever he likes following the performance.” She gave Hadrian a sly smile, and he laughed.
“That’s why you invited me.”
“Come now, that’s not the only reason,” Teague said with a chuckle.
Tilda wasn’t going to ask what he meant by that.
She’d been afraid Teague would discover there was more between her and Hadrian than their professional relationship.
As Hadrian had pointed out, hiding their…
romance was becoming difficult. It was also frustrating as she found herself wanting to lean on him, depend on him, and just… be with him more and more.
But a formal courtship was tantamount to agreeing to marry him, and the idea of becoming a countess, even his countess, was absurd and more than a little terrifying.
“Shall we reconvene in the morning?” Teague locked the cap away in his desk.
“Yes.” Tilda tucked her magnifying glass back into her reticule. “Good luck with your inquiries.”
“Thank you. I look forward to hearing what you learn at the theatre.”
Tilda and Hadrian departed Teague’s office and made their way from the building.
When they were outside on the way to the coach, she looked over at Hadrian.
“You should wear one of your costumes tonight from when we were working in the City.” They’d been in disguise, and Hadrian had posed as her working-class brother.
“You don’t want me to be the Earl of Ravenhurst?”
“I’m not sure I want to draw attention to us,” Tilda explained. “I think you ought to be Mr. Becket again and become the earl if we think it’s necessary.” He’d gone by his surname before during their investigations.
“We’re still hiding then,” he said with a sigh.
“This is work, not a social event.” Tilda rather wished it could be the latter. A night at the theatre—a real night—with Hadrian would be delightful. “We won’t be hiding when I come to dinner at Ravenhurst House tomorrow.”
Hadrian eyed her cautiously, but with hope. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind, and I can introduce you as the woman I’m courting?”
They’d reached the coach, so Tilda didn’t answer. Hadrian directed Leach to take them to her grandmother’s house, then they climbed inside.
Tilda set her reticule in her lap and kept her gaze focused on it.
“I don’t think I’m quite ready to make our courtship formal.
That feels very…final. Even so, I wonder if it’s becoming too hard to separate our work from our social relationship.
You can’t seem to stop flirting with me whilst we’re investigating, and I confess I’m becoming less immune.
” She stole a glance at him and saw that he was grinning.
“That is most welcome,” he said. “May I take that as an invitation to flirt with you more often?”
“Hadrian.” Tilda rolled her eyes. “I’m struggling with what to do. I love you. I want to be with you. But I don’t know how that can work.”
Hadrian took her hand and looked into her eyes. “My darling, it will work because we love each other.”
“Are you truly prepared for people who will not accept me?” Tilda wasn’t sure if she was.
“Yes. Those people don’t matter to me.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her wrist. “You do.”
A delicious shiver danced up Tilda’s arm. “I don’t know that I’m ready for that. It’s bad enough that Chadwick maligned my reputation. In fact, I worry that will reflect poorly on you.”
Hadrian released her hand and cupped her face with his palms. “I don’t care.” He kissed her, and she leaned into him.
After a moment, she pulled away. “Perhaps it would be best if we brought my grandmother as a chaperone tonight. I think I’d feel better if we don’t risk anyone’s reputation.”
“Your grandmother would be absolutely delighted, and so would I. Yes, let’s bring her with us. We’ll have great fun.”
“You’re so thoughtful,” Tilda said, overcome with how much she cared for this man and how she’d never imagined she would feel such emotions. “We’ll need to return Grandmama to the coach with Leach after the performance before we interview the prop master.”
Hadrian nodded. “What time does the play start?”
“The newspaper said seven.”
“That doesn’t give us much time to dress and have dinner,” Hadrian said with a frown.
Tilda laughed. “Spoken like a true peer. Remember, you aren’t dressing for a Society event. Just replace your waistcoat and coat, and you can have dinner with us.”
“How can I refuse a second invitation from you in the same day?” He grinned again. “I find I cannot. Indeed, even if you invited me to spend the night in a gloomy cemetery, I would not decline.”
“A cemetery?”
He shrugged. “It was all I could think of that would be distasteful.”
“I actually like cemeteries,” Tilda admitted.
“But they’re so sad.”
“They’re also full of love and remembrance, of dignity and respect,” Tilda argued. “I used to sit with my father at his grave nearly every day after he died.”
Hadrian put his arm around her and pulled her close. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I shall never think of cemeteries as gloomy again.”
They arrived at her grandmother’s house, and Tilda turned to face him. “My grandmother still doesn’t know we’re privately courting. Our visit to the theatre is entirely for investigative purposes.”
Hadrian looked nonplussed. “Isn’t that precisely what it is?”
“Yes. Mostly.” Tilda felt her face heat.
Leaning close, Hadrian whispered, “When you’re ready for our formal courtship, I will take you to the grandest theatre, and we’ll sit in the most prominent box. Everyone in London will know how I feel about you.”
His words made her shiver—and not in entirely the best way. What he described was thrilling and terrifying. For if that came to pass, there would be no turning back.
Mrs. Wren was delighted that Hadrian had dined with them that night and even more thrilled to be invited to the theatre. Hadrian had spent as much time watching her and Tilda enjoying the performance as he had watching it himself.
The fire effects had been impressive, and the crowd had reacted with boisterous awe and rapture. A night at the Brittania was quite different than a night in a West End theatre. Hadrian was surprised to find they could eat and drink during the performance.
When the final play—there had been three in total with musical performances between them—concluded, they escorted Mrs. Wren back to Hadrian’s coach, where Leach would wait with her whilst Hadrian and Tilda questioned the property master about the flame effects.
Mrs. Wren understood they had investigative work to complete and told them to take as long as they needed.
“Let’s find the stage door,” Tilda suggested. “That would be at the side or back of the building.”
Hadrian escorted her to a narrow side street that was little more than an alley.
They made their way through the shadows to the back of the theatre.
“I’m glad I’m with you,” Hadrian said. “Sometimes I think about you investigating these cases without my assistance, and I confess it makes me agitated.”
“But I’m not investigating these without you.” Tilda gave him a brief smile.
“I know that, but if not for a chance of fate in which we encountered one another outside your grandfather’s cousin’s house those many months ago now, you would be.”
“We were bound to meet during the course of that investigation,” Tilda said. “It’s fortuitous, however, that we met earlier on.”
“Do you even understand what I’m trying to say?” Hadrian asked with equal parts frustration and humor. “I would worry about you doing things like this on your own. I haven’t ever asked, but did you conduct investigations of this nature before we met?”
“If you mean murders, no. However, I did occasionally go out at night and watch for errant husbands who were being unfaithful. I always took my father’s pistol.”