Page 40 of In the Midnight Hour

“Good.” Harry started toward the door, then paused to look back at North. “Selina would like to have you over for dinner again soon. Be prepared that she’ll angle for an invitation to come here. In fact, if you’d like her and Rachel to join forces and set this place to rights, I’m sure she’d be happy to help. Good night.”

He left, and North downed the rest of his brandy.

Blast.

He needed to talk to Hypatia immediately. If she was hiding something, she had to share it with him—before it was too late.

In the couple of hours since Lord Northwood had delivered Hypatia to her house, she’d thought of little else but the warning he’d given her. He knew she was concealing something. And she was.

She stood from her chair near the hearth and paced across the library. On her return, Quill, who was curled on the carpet near the warm fireplace, lifted his head. His eyes opened to slits, then he yawned, exposing his fangs before settling into a new position.

“Thank you for not judging me,” Hypatia said softly.

At first, she hadn’t wanted to speak of what had happened with Sir Radnor last Friday. Telling someone, even her trusted maid, Colby, that Sir Radnor had touched her without invitation and that he had feelings toward her about which she’d been completely unaware made her relive the uncomfortable moments. She had no desire to do that.

She was angry with herself for not realizing Sir Radnor’s attentions toward her had changed. His behavior on Friday had been a complete shock, surprising and discomfiting her to an extreme. The friendship she’d thought they mutually shared and appreciated had evaporated and could never be recovered. She’d never wanted to be alone with him again.

After returning home, she’d lain awake wondering how she would put an end to their friendship, hopefully without bringing up the unpleasantness of what had happened. Living next door to him would be incredibly awkward. If she didn’t love Pemberton Square so much, she might have actually considered moving house.

Then he’d died.

She’d been saved any difficult conversation or ongoing discomfort at being neighbors. Meaning, she’d benefitted from his death. If that wasn’t a motive to kill him, she didn’t know what was.

Was it any wonder she hadn’t told anyone? Which also made her look guilty.

Blowing out a breath, she looked out the window and saw Mr. Huxley opening her gate at the pavement. She stood and moved toward the entrance hall. “Ferris, Mr. Huxley is coming to the door. Please show him in here.”

The butler came from the direction of the staircase. “Certainly, my lady.”

A moment later, the door opened, and Hypatia heard Mr. Huxley jovially remark that he hadn’t even knocked yet. Ferris escorted him into the library then took his leave.

“I saw you coming,” Hypatia said with a smile.

Mr. Huxley removed his hat and set it on a table near the doorway. His sable, wavy hair was impeccably styled, and he looked very smart in his blue costume and stark white cravat against a dark gold waistcoat. He was the sort of man her parents ought to have encouraged her to wed—someone with a keen intellect and reserved charm from a family with wealth and a modicum of social prominence.

However, they’d desperately wanted her to wed someone with a title. That Abel hadn’t been a peer had been a disappointment, but her parents had accepted it since Hypatia would be Lady Cartwright.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Mr. Huxley said. “I know it’s a touch late for social calls, but I’ve wanted to call on you since the inquest yesterday.”

“You’re most welcome, Mr. Huxley.” She gestured to the seating area, glad he’d come to distract her from the troubling thoughts crowding her mind.

They’d become friendly over the past several months since he’d opened the bookshop and lending library in the square. Hypatia probably spent too much time there. She would endeavor to keep their friendship professionally anchored—no private dinners such as those she regretted having with Sir Radnor.

“Please sit.” Hypatia took one of the chairs, whilst he lowered himself to the settee on the side nearest to her.

His brow creased as he regarded her. “I wanted to see how you were faring after the inquest yesterday. I imagine it’s been difficult to lose your friend, and then to become the center of scrutiny like that.” He shook his head with dismay.

She didn’t care for that description—center of scrutiny—but it was accurate. “I appreciate your concern. It’s nice to know not everyone thinks I’m guilty of seducing Sir Radnor to obtain his fortune.”

“Do you really think everyone believes that of you?” He sounded dubious, which she appreciated.

“Not everyone, but I feared at least some of the jury probably did, particularly if Lord Wetherby tried to convince them.” It was the closest she would come to asking Mr. Huxley to tell her about the jury deliberations.

His eyes gleamed with anticipation. “One of the reasons I came was to tell you about our discussions following the inquest. Mr. Sheffield instructed us not to discuss the specifics with anyone, but I see no harm in telling you as you were there and it concerned you. Besides, it’s not as if you’ll share what I say with anyone,” he added in a somewhat conspiratorial tone.

“No, I will not,” Hypatia vowed. “You didn’t seem to deliberate terribly long.”

“Thankfully no, because most of the jurors were sensible.” He scowled. “As you imagined, Lord Wetherby was the worst, and he did manage to persuade a few of the others to side with him.”