"And the baron, ma'am?"
"I have no idea at what watering spa he is at present. It may take some time to locate him. I'll send someone else to chase him to ground."
The man nodded, bowed, and turned to go. Cecilia looked up then to see Branstoke. "You heard?"
"Yes, the news is spreading like wildfire throughout London." He walked toward her. "Can you dismiss the rest of your cavalcade? We need to talk."
"Of course. Loudon, I will call for you and the others later. Jessamine, stay please. I've told her nearly everything," she quietly explained to Branstoke.
He nodded. "I anticipated as much. Bow Street is setting a man on Karney. I have not, as yet, had luck meeting with anyone on the committee."
"James, I think we had best examine the library at Cheney House. That is where Randolph was found. He never used the library."
"You suspect murder?"
She looked down at her hands and bit her lip for a moment, then moved the lap desk aside. She rose from the daybed to cross to a carved and painted box on the mantle. She opened it and took two things from inside. She brought them to Branstoke, dropping them into his hand.
The cold metallic shape caught his attention first. It was a gold signet ring. He turned it over. The raised cartouche of a rose and sword was on the flat bezel. A dark eyebrow rose as he examined it.
"It is identical to the stamp Reverend Thornbridge showed us."
"Yes," she said noncommittally. She waited while he unfolded the note. She knew what it said without looking at it. She knew what it meant:
The Widow Waddley is not the fool you or she would have us believe. Stop her lest she meet that fate planned eight years ago.
At the bottom was stamped the rose and sword.
Branstoke looked up at her, puzzled.
"Eight years ago, I married Mr. Waddley," she said softly, "but I don't think that is what the message means. With the stamp on the bottom, I believe I was to be part of their spice trade."
He nodded slowly. "You certainly met the criteria. Why did Waddley marry you?"
Cecilia shook her head and turned away.
"Mr. Waddley married her sight unseen," put in Lady Meriton quietly. "He expected Randolph's sister to be older and plainer."
Cecilia turned back to face Branstoke. "Remember what Randolph said at Oastley? That he saved my life by marrying me to Waddley? I thought—have thought all along—he meant he saved me from a life of poverty and drudgery."
"When he may have been saving you from being kidnapped by him. But that still doesn't make any sense. How would Randolph know his plans?"
"I don't know. Perhaps, with him dead, we'll never know. It was also eight years ago that Dorothea Rustian disappeared."
"Dorothea Rustian?"
"Lord Havelock's cousin. A vibrant redhead, I understand. Havelock also went abroad at the time for an extended period."
"Egad," mouthed Branstoke. "I know Havelock is one of the two suspected by Thornbridge, but—"
"I know. I haven't seen Havelock in two days. Have you?"
"No, not at all. I think it would be best if you refused any further visitors. Put it about that you're prostrate with grief—"
"For Randolph?"
His thin smile quirked upward on one side. "How about your infamous irritation of the nerves?"
Cecilia frowned, but Jessamine agreed with Branstoke. "Cecilia, whoever is behind this sordid business is vicious and merciless. And they must truly hate women. If Randolph was murdered, it was most likely to prevent him from interfering in plans for you. We cannot take the risk. If what Mr. Thornbridge says is true, the climax of these events cannot be far away. We cannot be too careful."
