Don't question. Sell Waddley's.
And don't look back lest you be Lot's wife. Another man's palatable spice.
A puzzled frown furrowed her brow.
"Not bad news, I hope," said Mr. Rippy, uncertainty edging his tone.
"No, not exactly." She laughed. "I'm not quite sure what it is. I think I'm being confused with someone else."
"Happens. Wouldn't think they'd have your name, though."
"I don't know," she said, refolding the letter and setting it on the table next to her. She smiled up at him. "But I do not wish to ponder it now. It would just give me a plaguey headache. So, tell me about this play you're in."
"Can't do that. Sworn to secrecy."
Cecilia laughed. "I was told so by Sir Harry, but I didn't believe he was serious!"
"Too serious. Don't know why. About the secrecy, that is. But that's what he wants."
"And you'll honor his wishes."
"Gave my word of honor. Man can't go back on his word of honor. What would this world be? Besides, he's pulled me out of some dashed uncomfortable scrapes. Do anything for a friend, would Elsdon. Kind of flighty in the cockloft sometimes, about acting and all. Decent fellow, though. There when the chips are down."
"Gracious, what an encomium!"
Mr. Rippy squirmed uncomfortably. "Now I've gone and done it. Praisin' him when I should be doing my best to cut him out," he said morosely.
Cecilia laughed and reached out to pat his hand reassuringly when the door opened to admit Sir James Branstoke. She drew back and glared up at him.
He strolled lazily into the room. "I told Loudon I would see myself up."
"I do not understand why Loudon should be lost to all propriety where you are concerned."
"We understand each other," he drawled, sitting next to her on the sofa. He nodded politely in Mr. Rippy's direction. "Don't you have a rehearsal or something to go to?"
"I do not believe Mrs. Waddley welcomes your appearance here. I suggest that you leave," said Mr. Rippy.
"On the contrary, Mrs. Waddley and I have an understanding. Why else would Lady Meriton's butler allow me free reign of the house?"
"James!" warned Cecilia in dire accents.
"See, she uses my Christian name," Branstoke said pleasantly.
Cecilia ground her teeth at being caught out and tried to glare at him.
Mr. Rippy rose, his face bright red. "I was on the point of leaving anyway. My regards to Lady Meriton, please." He bowed jerkily and left the room.
"How dare you?" Cecilia asked sternly, though the laughter in her eyes betrayed her.
"We need to talk, and we did not need that puppy around to broadcast our conversation."
"So you don't think he'll broadcast the idea that we have an understanding?"
"On the contrary. I'm hoping he will. It may help to save your life. Have you examined those trinkets and papers you stole from your brother?"
"No. I awoke too late and, after visiting with Jessamine, have had nothing but visitors. But this came in with Mr. Rippy," she said grudgingly, pointing to the note on the table. "He claimed an urchin gave it to him to deliver to me."
Branstoke unfolded the note and read the contents. "Good God, woman! Things are more serious than I'd anticipated. I suggest you get your things packed and depart for an extended visit to your grandparents, or—perhaps better—I have a small estate near the lake district. You should be safe enough there."
