Page 54 of In the Midnight Hour

Because they were the last to arrive, the drawing room was already teeming with mourners. There was a steady stream of conversation—not at all melancholic—and North even heard a strain of muted laughter. Good. He thought funeral gatherings ought to be a celebration of one’s life.

He looked about for Hypatia and saw her standing near the windows. She wore a stunning black walking dress and a matching hat. Jet earrings and a matching brooch at her throat completed the ensemble. Had she happened to have a black gown in her wardrobe? Of course, she’d been widowed. Except that had been some years ago, he thought, and her gown looked quite stylish.

She turned her head and met his gaze. Her mouth didn’t quite smile, but the corners lifted, and it was enough for North to feel a thrilling jolt.

As he made his way toward her, she broke away from the people she’d been speaking with. “Good afternoon, Lady Cartwright.”

“Good afternoon, Lord Northwood. How was the burial?”

“Sorrowful. However, the procession back was interesting.”

She arched a single brow in curiosity. “You must tell me.” She led him to a somewhat quiet corner.

“I had a revealing conversation with Usher.” North went on to explain what the valet had said about Sir Radnor’s behavior with the servants.

“Until last Friday night, I would have been shocked to hear that he treated his retainers in that way,” Hypatia said. “Now, I don’t find this difficult to believe.”

“I had the same thought.” His gaze fixed over her head briefly, and he tried not to frown. “Mrs. Lambton is coming this way,” he whispered.

“Lovely,” she murmured before fixing a smile on her face just before the square’s resident gossip arrived.

“The two of you appear to have sparked a friendship,” Mrs. Lambton remarked. She directed her gaze at Hypatia. “I’m glad you’ve found someone new. I’m sure you’re sad about losing your special friend, Sir Radnor.”

North tried not to choke on air. Was she insinuating that Hypatia had moved on to a new “special friend,” whatever the hell that was?

“Sir Radnor and I shared a fondness for literature,” Hypatia said smoothly. “There was nothing more to our companionship than that.”

Mrs. Lambton’s attention slid to the doorway. “Goodness, the coroner has arrived.” She looked to North. “Did you know your brother would be here? Is he paying respects or is this some sort of official call? One would think he wouldn’t make inquiries about a man’s death at his own funerary gathering.” She clucked her tongue.

North noted that Hypatia had paled slightly. Was she worried she would be questioned today? He doubted it because of the funeral. Furthermore, Drummond wasn’t here. It was only Harry.

Only. He was, as Mrs. Lambton had pointed out, the bloody coroner.

“You must excuse me,” Hypatia said softly. “I’m going to find my housekeeper. She’s been helping today whilst Sir Radnor’s retainers were at the church service and burial.” She turned and made her way toward the doorway.

North didn’t blame her for wanting to escape. “You must also excuse me, Mrs. Lambton, so I may greet my brother.” He stepped away with alacrity, both to keep Mrs. Lambton from following him and to catch up with Hypatia.

“Don’t let Mrs. Lambton ruffle you,” he said, hoping the busybody was the reason for Hypatia’s unease but fearing it was almost certainly Harry’s arrival.

She squared her shoulders. “I’m trying not to. I do want to find Mrs. Goss and see how things are going. I suppose I feel as though I’m somewhat of a hostess.”

“Because this is your house? Or will be?”

“Perhaps. It certainly isn’t because I feel as though I was close to Sir Radnor.” She shuddered, and North tried not to dwell on what she’d told him last night. He’d been absurdly angry at a dead man for making advances upon her and thrusting her into an extremely uncomfortable position.

“I was hoping we might be able to steal away to Sir Radnor’s bedchamber for further investigation,” he said as they neared where Harry was standing. “I’d like to look more thoroughly for this dressing gown in case it was hidden somewhere.”

“That’s a good idea. We can try, but I’m not sure we’ll be able to.”

“Do you want to meet my brother?” he asked.

She looked at him with a sardonic glint in her eye. “I’ve met him.”

“I mean socially.”

“I hardly think engaging with the coroner who presided over an inquest in which I was discussed as a murder suspect whilst at the funeral of the murdered individual is a good idea.”

He smiled. “Put like that, I’d agree. Harry is marvelous, truly.”