Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

A fter several grueling hours at Scotland Yard providing testimony and answering questions, including from Superintendent Newsome, Hadrian and Miss Wren had gone to the City of London Police to ensure John Prince was released. As it happened, they'd arrived just as he was being set free. They'd been able to speak with him, and he'd been overjoyed and grateful for their help in proving he was innocent.

When they were settled back in the coach, Miss Wren said, "That is the part of investigation that is so rewarding—discovering the truth and ensuring innocent people don't pay for crimes they don't commit." Her features darkened. "I feel so badly for that poor footman who was convicted of the maid's death in 1835 after my grandfather refused to find him guilty."

After looking through records at Scotland Yard, they determined the young man had been transported to Australia. Teague said it was unlikely they'd be able to find him or restore him to England, but perhaps he'd already found his way back. "I thought about trying to locate him," Hadrian said.

Miss Wren looked at him with surprise. "That would be a monumental task. And would perhaps require a journey to Australia. Do you have time for that?"

He was fairly certain she was jesting. "No, but I could hire someone who might be interested."

"You don't mean me?" Miss Wren asked with a light laugh. "I've no interest in traveling across the world, at least not right now. My grandmother needs me."

"I actually meant I could hire someone in Australia. I will look into it. I would even pay for the footman's passage back to England if he wished to return."

"Would you want to come back to the country that had seen you corruptly convicted of a murder you hadn't committed?" Miss Wren shuddered. "At least he wasn't hanged."

"A small mercy," Hadrian murmured.

Miss Wren stifled a yawn. "Pardon me. It has been a rather long day."

Hadrian had to press his hand over his mouth to cover his own responding yawn. "Indeed, it has." He'd risen much earlier than normal, and they'd been up late the previous night at Northumberland House. That seemed so long ago now. "We must start again early tomorrow to travel to Brighton."

They'd arranged to accompany Teague to visit Erasmus Blount. And this afternoon, Superintendent Newsome had traveled to Essex to speak with the Baxters about their daughter's death and to return her brooch. Teague would ask Blount for the location of Susannah's body so that could also be communicated to her family.

"I'm glad to make the trip," Miss Wren said. "And relieved there will be no charges against Blount. I daresay he isn't long for this world anyway."

"No charges for Selwin either, though he is not to produce death certificates or participate in any inquests." Hadrian wasn't certain how he felt about that. Selwin could have saved the lives of Fitch, Dunwell, and the others who'd died in the fire at Farringer's.

As the coach arrived at Miss Wren's, Hadrian's stomach grumbled. They'd barely eaten all day, just some terribly dry meat pies that had been delivered to them at Scotland Yard. He was inclined to ask Miss Wren to dine with him but imagined she was eager to get home. Perhaps another time.

Hadrian escorted her to her door. "I'll pick you up in the morning, then."

"Thank you. I can hardly believe we've completed the investigation." She smiled. "There were times I thought we'd never discover the truth."

"It was a very tangled web. Next time, I shall hope for something simpler."

She arched a brow. "You seem quite interested in there being a next time."

"I can't deny that I have enjoyed working with you, Miss Wren. I would most eagerly hire you again and recommend you. And I can only hope you might need to consult with me at some point."

"I confess, your special ability was most helpful with the investigation. I'm torn between appreciating its use and not wanting you to suffer the burden any longer."

"I'm becoming used to it. Somewhat," he added with a smile. "Touching people, such as shaking hands, is the most disconcerting part. I'd like to find a way to stop that. Except for when we need it." Laughing, he shook his head. "Apparently, I am also torn."

Miss Wren laughed with him, and it was lovely. He wouldn't mind touching her, and yet he wasn't sure how he felt about seeing her memories or feeling her emotions. That seemed incredibly intrusive.

Vaughn opened the door, interrupting their conversation. "Miss Wren, it's good you are back. Mrs. Wren was growing concerned."

"It was a very busy day, Vaughn," Miss Wren replied as she stepped into the house. "I've much to report, including the identity of the man who hit you."

Hadrian wished he could stay and participate. But this was not his household.

"Indeed?" Vaughn's eyes narrowed. "I should like to have words with him."

"Unfortunately, he has already drawn his last breath, and that is for the best. He was a truly horrid person." She shook her head. "Not a person at all, really. Rather, a beast." Pivoting, she looked at Hadrian. "See you in the morning."

"Yes. Sleep well." The door closed, and Hadrian returned to his coach.

The sun was setting as they traveled to Mayfair. Hadrian realized he was frowning. He felt quite morose, actually. Whilst he knew he would see Miss Wren tomorrow, he didn't know when he would do so after that. Their investigation was finished. What reason would they have to spend time with one another?

He wanted her to have another case soon, not only because he could hope to become involved, but because he knew she needed the income. That reminded him that she owed him another invoice. She would likely give it to him tomorrow morning. Miss Wren was nothing if not efficient.

But that would be the end of his payments to her, and she still needed money to support her new butler and perhaps even afford a dress now and again. She would not accept additional funds from Hadrian, even if he tried to explain that she more than deserved it after all she'd done to solve this mystery.

An idea struck him. His lips curved up. It might just work. He would dispatch a note to Mr. Whitley before he left for Brighton tomorrow morning.

He turned his mind back to investigating another case with her. Perhaps she'd have need of his unique gift.

When had he started thinking of it as anything other than a curse? Was it because it had pushed him to meet Miss Wren? He definitely considered that a boon.

He wondered how his ability would work in the future. Would it stop now that this case was solved? The things he'd felt and seen had seemed to direct him—and Miss Wren—where they needed to find the truth.

Regardless, he would be cautious in touching things—and people—going forward.

Surprisingly, he thought of touching Miss Wren, and not in an entirely platonic manner. He'd felt a fierce need to protect her that morning when Ardleigh had gone after her. Hadrian was certain he would have killed the man without hesitation if it had become necessary.

But it had been a moment of heightened emotion and sensation. It only made sense that Hadrian had wanted to keep his partner safe. He decided it didn't need to be more than that.

T he following Tuesday, Tilda sat in the parlor with her grandmother and Lord Ravenhurst. Sun streamed in through the window, which always made Grandmama happy. She was also delighted the earl had returned. She'd been sad about not seeing him as often as they had been.

Tilda had been disappointed by that too. Far more than she'd expected to be. She certainly liked and respected the earl, but she'd never imagined their association to continue after the investigation concluded.

Then, today he'd called socially, surprising her. Perhaps they would remain friends, which seemed an oddity given his station compared with hers. Not to mention their unmarried states. Could they really be permitted to be friends?

"Tilda, you must tell Lord Ravenhurst our good news." Grandmama smiled toward the earl.

Tilda directed her attention at Ravenhurst. "Mr. Whitley has finally sent the summary of Grandmama's investment account. In the course of searching for records for the second investment, he found a sum of money in an account in Grandmama's name."

"That's wonderful," Ravenhurst said with a broad smile.

"Yes, and now we can afford to keep Vaughn on," Grandmama said.

Ravenhurst paused before sipping his tea. "As butler?"

"We did suggest he retire," Grandmama said. "However, he implored us to allow him to serve as butler. I must say, he presented an impressive argument as to why we needed him."

Tilda suppressed a laugh. There was nothing he'd mentioned that either wasn't already being done before he arrived or that needed doing as often as he suggested. What it did mean was less work for Mrs. Acorn.

The finances would still be a bit strained, but Tilda planned to invest a small portion of the money Whitley had found for added security. She just needed to determine how.

"Ravenhurst, I wonder if you might assist me in locating a competent and respected solicitor to invest some of this money we received. I do not wish to continue with Mr. Whitley. I think a fresh start is best."

"My solicitor can certainly help. I'll set up a meeting straightaway, if you like." He set his cup down. "I have a bit of news to share. Teague sent me a note this morning informing me that Padgett has retired, and unfortunately Blount passed away yesterday."

"He also sent me the news," Tilda said. "Though, I'm disappointed Padgett was allowed to retire and not prosecuted for his corruption."

"I also found that disappointing," Ravenhurst replied. "However, I can't say I'm surprised after what you've told me about the culture of bribery that exists."

Tilda had decided she would no longer pay for information. It might make her investigations more difficult, but she couldn't, in good conscience, support the practice any longer, even if it did help certain members of the police force support their families.

Grandmama nearly scowled. "Such a horrible practice. Tilda, your father and grandfather never would have approved of such behavior."

No, they would not. Tilda's heart clenched as she thought of how her grandfather had died for that very principle.

"I was sorry to hear about Blount, but it is not a shock," Ravenhurst said.

Tilda nodded in agreement. "Perhaps he realized he'd done what he could to make things right and was ready to depart. Although, nothing could be made truly right." When they'd traveled to Brighton, Teague had informed them that the Baxter family had taken the news about their daughter quite poorly. Tilda hoped they would be able to find peace.

Teague had also informed Tilda that Ardleigh's widow was leaving London. She'd been devastated to learn of her husband's crimes and said she would never show her face here again. So many lives lost and ruined by that horrible beast.

"Did Teague mention how it's too bad you can't work for the Metropolitan Police?" Ravenhurst asked.

Tilda laughed. "He did."

"Well, I am glad you cannot," Grandmama said as she took a biscuit from the tray.

"He also wrote that he looked forward to working with us again, should we have the opportunity," Tilda said, looking at Ravenhurst.

"He wrote the same to me." Ravenhurst's gaze was warm. "I hope we have that chance. You know where to find me if you require my … skills."

She glanced at his bare hands, for he'd removed his gloves for tea. Did he see anything when he touched the teacup or the arm of his chair? Perhaps he felt a sense of something. "I do indeed," Tilda said, thinking his particular skill could perhaps be useful the next time Mr. Forrest hired her.

They finished tea a while later, and Grandmama retreated to the sitting room. Tilda walked the earl to the entrance hall, where he set his hat atop his head. Vaughn was somewhere else in the house.

Tilda looked at his bare hands again. "I wondered if you saw anything when you touched the chair or the teacup."

"I did not," Ravenhurst responded. "I haven't seen or felt anything since the investigation concluded. Perhaps I was only meant to solve this case, and now I'm back to normal."

She smiled. "I'm sure you are pleased about that. I know how troubling you found that curse. Furthermore, the accompanying headaches were terrible."

"You're not wrong about that. However, without that … gift, there would have been no case to solve, and I would not have met you." His gaze locked with hers, and she felt that same peculiar heat in her belly that had begun to haunt her in Ravenhurst's presence.

The way she thought about him since the other day, when he'd held her close after Ardleigh had attacked her with the chair, had shifted. She couldn't deny a sense of warmth and security when she was in his presence or, really, just when she was thinking about him.

"I keep meaning to ask you about the device you have to release locks," Tilda said, changing the subject lest her thoughts continue down a path she didn't particularly want to travel. "You said your valet gave it to you and would explain why, but you never did."

Ravenhurst chuckled. "It was somewhat of a joke, actually. After my fiancée and I ended things, Sharp gave me the device as a sort of universal key. He said I could use it to unlock any woman's heart and be certain of her feelings."

Tilda laughed. "I can't decide if that's very sweet or incredibly silly."

"It's both," he replied with a grin. "Sharp is a very caring valet. I could not manage without him."

The idea of having a personal attendant was incredibly foreign to Tilda. She was reminded again of the huge divide between her and the earl, at least in their social standing.

"Thank you for coming to tea, Ravenhurst."

He hesitated then said, "You could call me Hadrian. Or Raven, if you prefer."

Both seemed almost unbearably informal, but when he'd called her Tilda the other day, she'd liked it immensely. Perhaps it was because she had so few people in her life who were close enough to her to use her given name. She liked that Ravenhurst—Hadrian—was part of that circle. Did that mean she would keep seeing him?

Tilda didn't have an answer for that, but she did respond to his suggestion. "I would be delighted to call you Hadrian if you agree to call me Tilda."

"It would be my privilege." He looked at her hand, as if he were going to take it. Then he quickly drew his gloves on and did so. "Until our next meeting."

How she wished his hands had remained bare. Was he hesitant to touch her because of what he might see or feel? That could be awkward. Still, she found herself hoping she might have cause to touch him.

Alas, that would not be today. Or in the coming days. Or anytime in the future that she could see.

He opened the door and walked toward his coach. Tilda watched him go before closing the door. She noted there was a letter on the table where Hadrian's hat and gloves had been.

Tilda plucked up the envelope and opened it, scanning the contents. It was from Mr. Forrest. He had a case for her!

A woman was seeking divorce and needed help proving her husband's infidelity and abuse. Tilda froze when she saw her name: Mrs. Beryl Chambers.

Hadrian's former fiancée.