Page 16 of In the Midnight Hour

“That’s correct, but the terms will eventually become public. It’s not as if you can hide the fact that you now own twice as much property in Pemberton Square.” He smiled at her. “What a boon.”

It was a nightmare.

What would everyone think? Some residents already disdained her because she was a widow of means who chose to live in a large townhouse in London and participate, at least somewhat, in Society.

“You may claim your property once the probate is concluded. In the meantime, I’ve completed an inventory of the house.” The kind solicitor pulled another paper from the case and handed it to her. Compact lines of well-mannered script filled the parchment. The list of things she now owned was too great to comprehend in this moment. “I regret to inform you that two illustrated manuscripts have gone missing. They are not included in the inventory, of course. Given their value, I thought you should know.”

Hypatia frowned. “The Chaucer and Le Roman de la Rose? I just saw them in his study Friday evening.” It had to be those two, which Sir Radnor kept on display in his library. He had others, but they were nowhere near as valuable. He was also exceptionally proud to own them, as he’d fought hard to win them both against other collectors who’d been vying to purchase them. But Sir Radnor had mentioned a third illustrated manuscript—the new one he wanted to show her.

“Yes, those are the manuscripts,” Mr. Wadham said. “I reported their disappearance to Mr. Drummond with Bow Street. I’m sure he’ll find them. Books like that are far too recognizable.”

“Do you have any further questions?” Mr. Wadham asked.

Hypatia skimmed the list of books—it was quite extensive. “It must have taken you a long time to record Sir Radnor’s library.”

“My clerk was kind enough to join me Saturday afternoon and return yesterday to help complete the task. It was rather monumental, I must say.”

She looked up from the paper. “Did you find a third illustrated manuscript upstairs during your inventory?”

His brow creased. “I did not. Are you saying there was one and perhaps three have gone missing?”

“I don’t know for certain. Sir Radnor mentioned he’d just acquired one, but he’d imbibed a great deal of port, and I think it’s possible he misspoke.” Hypatia wasn’t sure he’d actually wanted to show her a manuscript. His intentions to coax her upstairs seemed lecherous, and she easily believed he would use a new manuscript as a lure.

“Not at this time. I’ll need to discuss this with my solicitor.” Mr. Parker would be as shocked as she was. She stood, and Mr. Wadham did the same, picking up his leather case. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Wadham.”

“It’s always a strange thing to deliver this kind of news in the midst of grief. I hope you’ll find comfort in how highly Sir Radnor regarded you.”

In fact, she would not. This unimaginable gift was a complete shock, just as Sir Radnor’s overtures the other night had been.

But should she have known? He’d changed his will weeks ago! She would likely spend an inordinate amount of time rethinking their encounters over the past several weeks to discern the signs she’d missed.

Hypatia escorted Mr. Wadham to the door of the drawing room. Ferris was waiting in the hall. He walked to her briskly and handed her a sealed missive. “This arrived whilst you were meeting with the solicitor,” he said quietly. Then he turned and saw the solicitor out.

Reeling, Hypatia clutched the letter as she made her way back to the table. Her gaze fell on the inventory of Sir Radnor’s house.

Her house.

She flicked a glance to the west, where her new house sat. An irrational frustration claimed her, and she resisted the urge to stamp her foot. She didn’t want another house in Pemberton Square. Just as she never wanted another husband. One had been quite enough.

Stalking to her favorite chair near the hearth, she flopped down, heedless of her gown, and opened the letter Ferris had just handed her. The gasp she’d managed to hold during the interview with Mr. Wadham now burst from her lips.

It was a notice of an inquest into the death of Sir Radnor Fieldstone of number twenty-four Pemberton Square—and she was required to attend and provide testimony. Tomorrow.

Everyone would find out about the inheritance, and those who already criticized her friendship with Sir Radnor would now likely tear her down completely. Her reputation would be in tatters.

Resisting the urge to toss the letter into the fire, she stood and instead went to drop it onto the table with the rest of today’s alarming documents. At that moment, Quill, her beloved black cat sauntered into the drawing room. He came straight to her and brushed her skirt, pressing inward until he could nudge his head against her leg. Then he looked up at her and meowed.

It was the time of day when they often went for a walk in the center garden.

She bent and scratched his head gently. “Actually, that sounds like a much-needed respite.” Straightening, she started for the door. “Come, Quill.” The direction was completely unnecessary as the cat was already prancing ahead of her.

Downstairs, she donned her hat and gloves, which her maid ensured were on a table in the hall for when Hypatia went out. Then she plucked up the key to the garden gate.

Ferris opened the door for her. “Time for your afternoon constitutional?”

“Yes.” Quill darted out, and Hypatia hastened to keep up with him.

He waited for her before crossing the street to the center garden. The nearest gate was only a few steps along the pavement. The garden had four locked gates—one in the center of each side. As Hypatia’s house was just west of the center, she was almost directly across from the largest entrance.