Chapter 27
“Ican’t tell you how happy I am you’re taking a respite from investigating!”
Tilda’s grandmother had said that no less than a dozen times in the past two days since she’d returned home from the blast caused by Nicholas Larkin, who was still missing.
His photograph and names—the two they knew of—had been shared far and wide.
The Duke of Alnwick was offering a reward of one thousand pounds to anyone whose information led to Larkin’s apprehension.
Glancing up from the book she was reading in their cozy sitting room at the back of the house, Tilda smiled at her grandmother. “The respite is only for a few days.”
“Still, it’s overdue. You’ve been working far too much.
” Grandmama dipped her gaze to the newspaper she held.
“Here’s another account of the ‘Nine Elms Blast.’” She lightly cleared her throat before reading aloud, “Lord Ravenhurst and his lady detective, Miss Wren, were the heroes of the day, saving Mr. Redmayne and Miss Redmayne from certain death!”
Grandmama set the paper in her lap. “Is that why you didn’t wish to walk to the grocer with me and Mrs. Acorn this morning?”
“I rarely do that,” Tilda replied. But the truth was yes. Despite not having left the house since returning from Ravenhurst House two days ago, she was keenly aware of the newspaper articles and the gossip that was likely spreading all over London, particularly London Society.
She may have been redeemed, at least in the press, but to her, the case wasn’t finished. Which also meant, at least to her, that it was unsuccessful. The disappearance of Larkin weighed heavy on her mind.
Which wasn’t to say there weren’t other things claiming her attention. The numerous articles about Hadrian and his “lady detective” were the printed version of a cacophony. Tilda kept recalling Teague’s curiosity about how she and Hadrian would carry on.
Could they? Her reputation as a lady would not support it. And her reputation as a serious detective was perhaps suffering due to her notoriety as the earl’s frequent companion.
In a word, she was trapped.
She hoped that by taking a forced respite from detective work, the gossip would calm, and she could go about her life as she had been. Except that meant she would still be in Hadrian’s company, and the interest in them would once again rise to a fever pitch.
Engrossed in her thoughts, Tilda failed to hear that someone had arrived. Vaughn appeared in the doorway. “Miss Wren, Lady Ravenhurst is calling.”
Grandmama’s head snapped up from the newspaper. “Lady Ravenhurst?” Her rounded gaze shot to Tilda. “Did you know she was coming?”
“I would have mentioned it.” Tilda felt an odd surge of anxiety.
Why was Hadrian’s mother here? Tilda had received a note from him yesterday inquiring after her welfare. He’d signed it “yours,” and Tilda still felt as if she were glowing from within. “Vaughn, please ask Mrs. Acorn to prepare tea.”
Vaughn inclined his head. “Her ladyship is in the parlor.” He departed in his slow, shuffling gait.
Rising, Tilda glanced down at her rather drab dark blue gown. It wasn’t as ancient as some of her others, but it wasn’t one of her new, more stylish garments either. She’d donned a light morning gown since she hadn’t planned on going out. Or receiving.
Was this what it would be like to be a countess? She must dress every day to welcome whoever may decide to pay a call?
“Are you wondering whether you should change your clothes?” Tilda’s grandmother asked kindly.
“I suppose I am, yes.”
“Normally, I would say yes because a countess is calling. However, Lady Ravenhurst is a friend, perhaps even a close one given your relationship with her son, and she will understand that you are recovering from an ordeal.” Grandmama’s features softened with love.
“You look fine, my dear. Better than fine—you are always beautiful and tidy.”
Tilda tamped down a laugh. How could she find fault with tidy? “Thank you.”
Gathering her courage, Tilda strode to the parlor and hoped all was well with Hadrian. “Good afternoon, my lady.” She smiled brightly as she greeted Hadrian’s mother.
Lady Ravenhurst wore a gorgeous sapphire silk gown, the skirt swept back into an elegant bustle trimmed with ivory ribbon.
A small matching hat with a pearl pin sat precisely atop her beautifully styled gray-brown hair.
Her blue eyes regarded Tilda and narrowed the faintest amount as if what she saw was lacking, but she quickly masked the reaction with a smile.
“Good afternoon, Miss Wren. I hope I’m not troubling you. I know this must be a trying time.”
“I’m well, thank you.” Tilda gestured for her to sit and perched in a chair as Lady Ravenhurst swanned to the settee. “Mrs. Acorn is bringing tea.”
“I needn’t stay for that, though it’s kind of you to offer.”
Tilda’s stomach knotted. “Is everything well with you? And his lordship?” How strange that sounded. Tilda hadn’t referred to him as “my lord” in months.
“Oh, yes. I saw Ravenhurst earlier—just before I came here, in fact. He’s feeling much better than yesterday. He was quite sore.”
She’d come from seeing Hadrian? Why did that make Tilda feel even more anxious, despite learning he was well? “I’m glad to hear he’s recovering. Do you happen to know how Leach is faring?”
“The poor man.” Lady Ravenhurst clucked her tongue.
“Apparently, he’s a bit surly, but the physician called this morning and said he’s doing very well.
He also indicated Leach’s disposition should improve in a few days.
It is my experience that an ill or wounded man is the worst of patients.
It’s best to leave them to their misery and await the arrival of their good humor along with their recovered health. ”
Tilda tried not to laugh but could not suppress a smile.
In truth, she’d always liked Hadrian’s mother, despite the difference in their classes and the fact that Lady Ravenhurst rarely let her forget that.
It wasn’t that she was ever rude. No, she was simply a dowager countess whilst Tilda was the daughter of a policeman—facts of which Lady Ravenhurst was acutely aware.
“I hope you won’t find my call intrusive,” Lady Ravenhurst began, finally moving to the purpose of her visit.
Tilda steeled herself.
“Having read all about your daring rescue with Ravenhurst and Leach, I wanted to ascertain your welfare.” She paused and put forth a brief, somewhat strained smile which did nothing to ease Tilda’s apprehension. “I also need to explain to you how things are now.”
“And how is that?” Tilda was proud that her voice was steady. She clasped her hands in her lap and crossed her ankles demurely.
“You must be aware of the other…items in the newspapers, which I have also read. You and Ravenhurst have been noted together quite publicly in multiple places. One could explain away your visit to the gardens since you were apparently conducting an investigation in disguise. And the same could be said for your excursion to Nine Elms. However, it’s come to my attention this morning that you were also seen attending the theatre together along with your grandmother last week. ”
“That was also part of our investigation.” Tilda was not certain where Lady Ravenhurst was going with her concerns.
“Be that as it may, I’m sure you see this is untenable. If you continue as you currently are, your reputation will not survive, and I’m afraid Ravenhurst’s will also. He must maintain a certain standing in our circle and in the political world. He is the Earl of Ravenhurst.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” Tilda was both irritated and sad. She knew what the dowager was trying to say—it was the very thing Tilda had been consumed with before she’d arrived.
“You and Ravenhurst must decide on a path forward.” That was not what Tilda had expected her to say. She’d been waiting to hear that Tilda must no longer work with Hadrian. Was Lady Ravenhurst saying she would support something other than their separation?
“You must marry or sever ties completely. You simply cannot continue as you are.”
Marry! Tilda was momentarily stunned. It wasn’t the most promising endorsement, but it was not at all what Tilda had expected. It seemed Hadrian’s mother would accept them marrying.
But would the rest of Society?
Tilda’s hesitation stemmed from her own desire for the independence she’d craved and earned but also from her fear that she would not be accepted as a countess because of her background.
And because she would not—could not—surrender her career.
Being a private detective was about more than earning a living.
Obviously, she wouldn’t need to concern herself with that if she was Hadrian’s wife. She could not abandon her calling.
There were so many other things to consider too. Her grandmother and their household for one. How were they to manage without Tilda?
Then there was the question as to how Tilda could possibly assume the role of countess. She could perhaps run Ravenhurst House, but Ravenswood? She didn’t know the first thing about managing a country estate. She’d never even been to one.
Courtship was supposed to answer those questions, wasn’t it? Except they hadn’t had a proper courtship at all. They’d been too focused on this case. Tilda had been too focused.
From the moment Miss Chadwick had been found murdered, Tilda had pushed everything aside and dedicated herself completely to uncovering Spring-heeled Jack. She and Hadrian had managed to grow closer, in spite of that, but they hadn’t had a courtship. And now it might be too late for one.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Lady Ravenhurst observed.
“My apologies. I’m thinking about what you said. Hadrian has not proposed marriage.” Not officially anyway. Too late, she realized she’d called him by his Christian name. His mother hadn’t reacted, so it seemed she was both aware of and perhaps even at ease with their closeness.