Page 15 of In the Midnight Hour

Hypatia clutched her hands together in her lap, and in the process, bent Mr. Wadham’s card. She dropped it from her grasp.

Her fortune had suddenly doubled. Slightly more than, actually. And, consequently, her notoriety would increase. “This is…unexpected.”

“Is it? Well, I’m sure it’s most welcome.”

Making sure she wasn’t shaking, Hypatia brought her hands up to pull the memorandum closer. She quickly read through the document. It did nothing to calm her racing heart.

Hypatia looked over at the solicitor, who was watching her expectantly. “I never expected this. What about his great-niece and nephew? Surely they should be the ones to receive Sir Radnor’s inheritance.”

His brow creased with apology. “I’m not at liberty to disclose what was left to others just now. You understand, I haven’t notified everyone yet.”

“Yes, I understand,” Hypatia murmured. This was simply astonishing. She was having difficulty forming an adequate response. Or any response.

“I didn’t realize this would be a surprise to you,” Mr. Wadham said kindly. “Sir Radnor drafted this will nearly two months ago. He led me to believe that you and he—” He stopped abruptly. “I don’t wish to overstep.”

Two months ago? That was a chilling revelation that gave new meaning to Sir Radnor’s advances the other night.

They’d dined as usual that evening. Then they’d adjourned to the library with port, also as was typical. Sir Radnor had never met a bottle of port he didn’t love, and he drank great quantities of it. Still, he’d always behaved in a gentlemanly fashion, albeit excessively gleeful and animated. That was to be expected, however, as their literary debates nearly always became spirited. Sir Radnor had been an excellent intellectual foil, and it was the primary reason she’d cultivated the friendship.

He’d drunk a particularly large amount of port on Friday, and for the first time, he’d touched her. The memory rose in her mind.

Sir Radnor had stood from his chair near the hearth to refill his glass. But he hadn’t gone straight to the sideboard. Instead, he’d paused at her chair—situated facing his—and caressed her face, his fingers lingering against her jaw. Then he’d asked if she wanted more wine. Frozen with shock at his intimate and wholly uninvited touch, she’d met his gaze and seen something from him that she never had before: lust.

Hypatia had been on her third glass of port and was not entirely sober. She’d quickly gathered her wits and forced a smile as she declined. When he continued to the sideboard, she rose with the intention of leaving immediately.

“I think it’s time I go home,” she’d declared.

Sir Radnor had turned toward her, his hand clutching his now refilled wineglass. “You can’t leave. Not yet. I’ve something I wish to show you. I’ve acquired a new illustrated manuscript. I daresay, you’ll be enthralled.” He’d given her a hawkish look that had put her even more on guard.

“It’s late, and I’m suddenly exhausted,” she’d said, working to mask her fear.

She’d started toward the door, and Sir Radnor had dashed after her, spilling his port down his front and on the floor. Muttering, he’d set the glass down on the nearest surface, then hastened to catch her before she stepped into the hall.

He’d clasped her forearm, jolting her. Without thinking, Hypatia had jerked free of him before sending him an angry glare. “Sir Radnor, this is deeply uncomfortable. You must allow me to leave.”

His bright blue eyes had fixed on her most fervently. “I cannot without declaring my undying admiration and love for you, Hypatia. You must come upstairs with me.” He’d reached for her, but she managed to move away into the hall.

Upstairs? She bloody well wasn’t going there.

Looking toward the front door, she’d seen the footman asleep in a truckle bed beneath the stairs. If she went that way, she’d have to unbolt the door and escape outside. Could she make it before Sir Radnor caught her?

Or she could run to the back, through the morning room—to which she could close the door to slow his progress—and into the garden. From there, it was an easy sprint through the gate to her own garden.

Hypatia had considered her options and made her decision in the time it took a bird to flap its wings. She flew toward the back of the house and escaped through the morning room into the night.

“Lady Cartwright?” Mr. Wadham inquired softly.

“Forgive me,” she said with a shake of her head and a faint smile.

“No need. I’m sure this is a difficult time. Sir Radnor indicated you shared a close friendship.”

Dread crept over Hypatia. The news that she was Sir Radnor’s primary heir would stun everyone in Pemberton Square. If it became known that he’d also hoped to…well, she wasn’t entirely sure what he’d hoped to do, but she could guess. She fixed her gaze on the solicitor, eager to learn what Sir Radnor had led him to believe. “What did he tell you?”

Mr. Wadham’s brow creased with uncertainty as if he wasn’t sure how his reply would be received. “That he held you in the greatest esteem and that you had a future together.”

Sir Radnor had spoken confidently about something of which she’d been utterly unaware.

“I did not realize he had such hopes.” Hypatia had to keep the scorn from her tone. A man who held a woman in the “greatest esteem” did not behave as he had nor did he make assumptions about the future. “Since you can’t tell me what anyone else has inherited, does that mean you also can’t disclose to others what Sir Radnor left to me?”