What Angels Fear: A Sebastian St. Cyr Mystery

information. I doubt Lord Frederick and my father are the only men Rachel approached. Any one of them could have killed her.”
    The doctor nodded. “She was involved in dark doings, that girl. Dark doings with dangerous men.”
    “I suspect the pages torn from her appointment book are linked to Lord Frederick and Pierrepont, but I’m beginning to wonder if I’m ever going to know for sure.” He blew out a harsh breath. “It’s even possible Pierrepont’s documents have nothing to do with her death at all, beyond explaining why she was at that church so late at night.”
    Gibson studied him through narrowed eyes. “You’ve found something else, have you?”
    Sebastian met his friend’s gaze, and nodded. “My nephew, Bayard. He seems to have been infatuated with the woman. Followed her everywhere.”
    “A common enough occurrence, surely, when one is dealing with beautiful actresses and opera dancers, and callow young men newly on the town?”
    “Perhaps. Except that the Saturday before Rachel died, Bayard flew into a rage at Steven’s and threatened to kill her. Said he was going to rip her head off.”
    “Ah. Not so common. Is he capable of such a thing, do you think?”
    “I never liked him as a child. He could be cruel. Vicious even . . .” Sebastian let his voice trail off. “Yet it doesn’t seem possible that he could have done it, given that he spent the evening in a very public display of riotous excess before passing out in front of Cribb’s Parlor. His own father took him home.”
    Gibson sat silent for a moment, lost in thought. “No, it doesn’t seem possible, does it? And there’s that other woman, Mary Grant. Why would Bayard track her down and kill her?”
    Sebastian shook his head. “No reason I can think of. Although for that matter, the same could be said of Hugh Gordon. Rachel owed him money, and he’s badly dipped enough that he might well have killed her in a fit of temper if she refused to pay. But why the maid? It doesn’t make any sense. Unless—” Sebastian broke off suddenly.
    “Unless . . . what?”
    Sebastian sat forward suddenly. “Unless Gordon hunted Mary Grant down because he was looking for the papers Rachel had taken. Think about it: Gordon knew Rachel was involved with Pierrepont and the French. What if he also knew she’d stolen the documents and was planning to sell them? He might well have decided to get his hands on them and sell them himself.”
    “And where does Mr. Gordon say he was last Tuesday night?
    Sebastian pushed away from the stool. “He says he was at home, studying his lines. But according to a cranky old Irishman named Paddy O’Neal, Gordon went off in a hackney just before nine o’clock.”
    “Any idea where he went?”
    Sebastian smiled. “Westminster.”

     
    Sebastian found Hugh Gordon in a cloth warehouse in the Haymarket, where the actor was inspecting an array of Bath superfine on a shelf against the side wall.
    “Oh, God. It’s you again,” he said, when Sebastian came to stand beside him. “What the devil do you want now?”
    “How about the truth for a change?” Sebastian leaned against the nearby dark-paneled wall and smiled. “You followed Rachel to St. Matthew’s last Tuesday night. Didn’t you?”
    “What?” Gordon glanced nervously over his shoulder. “Of course not. I told you, I was home last Tuesday night, studying lines.”
    “That’s not what Paddy O’Neal says.”
    “Paddy? What the hell has that dotty old Irishman to do with this?”
    “He says you pinched the hackney he’d called that night. And took it to Westminster.”
    “He’s lying.”
    “Is he? You needed money—lots of money, more even than Rachel owed you. I think you found out about the documents Rachel took from Pierrepont and came up with the bright idea of scaring her into giving them to you. Only, she refused.” Sebastian leaned in close and lowered his voice. “That’s when you grabbed her, wasn’t it? Maybe even gave her a shake, just like you used to do. Only, this time Rachel fought back. Tried to claw your eyes out. So you backhanded her—”
    “This is crazy,” Gordon began.
    ”—across the face,” continued Sebastian without pause. “And when she came at you again, you pulled the blade from your walking stick and slit her throat. And then, because fighting with women always makes you hard, you raped her—”
    “ What? ” The word came out in a low-voiced explosion of shock. “What are you