Cecilia's hand dropped like a stone into her lap. "You know about that as well?"
She nodded. "Randy told me everything. His head in my lap, he sobbed his heart out, poor dear. The past tortured him. He wanted to make sure that if anything happened to him, someone would know the truth. You see, Randy killed him,"
"Randolph did? He killed Mr. Waddley?"
"Yes. Because Randy was convinced he was getting prepared to have you disappear."
"What?"
Angel nodded. "It's true. That's what Randy believed. Only, I don't know if Mr. Waddley was or not. There's another gentleman involved . . ." she trailed off, uncertain how to proceed. Fear haunted the pale gray eyes that turned toward Cecilia.
She nodded. "I know about him."
Relief swept Angel's piquant face. She sighed. "Then I needn't say much about him. Frankly, I don't think I could. He has always frightened me. His eyes can be so empty at times. I could feel him looking at me sometimes. Contemplating my value. Lucky for me, Randy offered his protection, else I'd have been shipped out long ago."
"I understand."
Angel blinked, pushing unshared images aside with a shudder, and continued: "It seems Mr. Waddley was getting too independent-minded. He was making noises like he didn't need the overseas connections any longer. The story of Mr. Waddley sending you away may solely have been the fuel to rile Randy to get him to dohisdirty work. Randy may not have been much of a brother as brothers go, but he held great stock in family."
"Forgive me, Angel, if I have trouble adjusting to your vision of my brother. I have for so long viewed him as interested in money above all else."
"I know." Threatening tears spilled over her bottom lashes and traced dark courses down her pale cheeks. "I asked him why he didn't tell you the truth—about Mr. Waddley andhim.Randy said you were sincerely attached to Mr. Waddley and would not hear anything bad of your husband."
Cecilia shook her head sadly. "No, I was never attached to him. I felt some measure of gratitude for being saved from a life as a charity case, and I did enjoy the intellectual freedom he fostered by encouraging me to read voraciously; but truthfully, I was confined like a doll locked in a glass case. I carried around with me a sizable piece of guilt that I didn't care for him more and that I was stifled. It reeked so of ingratitude, you see. My meager attempts to discover his murderer have acted like a medicinal restorative on me. They've given me a focus for myself around which I may coalesce. That was the reason I've wanted so to discover his murderer. It was a way to absolve myself." She looked down at her hands in her lap, restlessly folding and unfolding a handkerchief.
"We didn't know each other, did we?" Cecilia whispered mournfully, choking back a veil of tears.
Angel shook her head, her eyes darting up to, then away from, Cecilia's face. Her chin quivered with the effort to fight back a new surge of tears. "I must be going now," she said, her slightly gravelly voice liquid with tears.
"Go? Where will you go? You must stay here with me. Your life may also be in danger. I can't allow that on my conscience. Haukstrom is a big enough burden as it is."
"No, I must go.Heis already suspicious of me. He knows Randy tended to get pious at home. And, if I do not show up at the theater tonight, he will be suspicious."
"Does he rule your life as well?"
"He is not a man I would cross willingly. If he knew I was here, or what we talked about, your life wouldn't be worth a penny."
"Or your own either, I'd wager."
She shrugged. "I can take care of myself. I always have."
"No, I won't have it. I think you should know that Sir James has set Bow Street on the case. We are determined to end this heinous trafficking. I want you to stay here until this matter is sorted out."
A flicker of hope leaped up Angel Swafford's face, only to be dashed down again. "A part of me would like to. I'm not denying that. But it would be too dangerous for us all if I did. If I do not show up at the theater tonight, he will ferret out my location through one of his many cullies. I have to go to the theater and give a performance—a lackluster one at best, but a performance. Afterward, I can truly claim to be overcome with Randy's death. I will go straight home from the theater."
Cecilia smiled. "Pleading a headache and an irritation of the nerves."
"Well, yes, I think that would be best, but how did you know?"
"It is a ploy I'm conversant with," she said drily. "Instead of going home, why don't you come here? No one would think to look for you until tomorrow."
She nodded slightly. "It might work, though I will have to be seen entering my house first. I shall change, pack a few essentials in a shawl, then wait an hour or so before coming. It would be best if I came in a back way."
"I shall seeto it that you are admitted, no matter the hour."
Angel looked up at her with trusting eyes. "I don't know how to thank you." Her low voice sounded unnaturally gruff.
"It is my gift to my brother, late though it may be."
