odd that she would be in this neighborhood.â
The pale eyes slowly narrowed. âWe presume she was lured here rather than being forced. There was no sign of a struggle.â
Amelia did not have to fake her shudder. âPoor maiden.â
âYes.â There was a faint pause. âIt was quite a brutal attack. For once, however, there was a witness who is willing to speak.â
Amelia blinked in genuine shock. âA . . . witness?â
The runner leaned forward. âA gentleman in the neighborhood happened to be on his way home when he noticed figures moving in the alley where the body was discovered. He claimed that one was a woman and the other was a large man with dark hair.â
A man with dark hair . . . it had to be William. But how? Surely they would have noticed this mysterious gentleman if he had been close enough to catch sight of William and herself? Unless . . .
Just for a wild moment Amelia considered the possibility of Mr. St. Ives whispering the horrid words into the runnerâs ear. Perhaps he feared that he would be implicated in the crime and had sought to distract attention. Then, just as swiftly, she was dismissing the ridiculous notion.
It had been Mr. St. Ives who had the good sense to hide William when the Watch had arrived. And had even risked returning to the dark to ensure that she could slip her brother home so no one would ever suspect he had been out of his home.
No. It could not have been Mr. St. Ives.
But, who?
âMiss Hadwell?â Mr. Ryan at last prompted her out of her tangled thoughts.
With an effort Amelia forced herself to concentrate on the man seated across the room. Despite his air of boyish good humor, she very much feared he possessed a shrewd mind and tenacious spirit. He was determined to find someone to blame for the murder. If she were not on her guard, that someone might very well end up being William.
âI fear that I can be of no assistance, Mr. Ryan,â she managed at last in reasonably steady tones. âI rarely go out in the evenings. I did not notice anything.â
âA pity,â he murmured. âAnd your brother?â
âMy . . . brother?â
âI am told you have a younger brother by the name of William.â
She would not flinch, she told herself sternly. She would not reveal so much as a grimace. Williamâs very freedom might depend upon the next few moments. She must be strong.
âYes, I do, but he would know nothing of the murder.â
The pale eyes slowly narrowed at her firm words. âPerhaps it would be best if I speak with him myself.â
Ameliaâs thin smile remained staunchly in place. âI fear that is impossible.â
âOh?â Mr. Ryan lifted his brows. âAnd why is that?â
âHe is suffering from a fever. He has rarely left his bed for the past few days.â
The runner paused as if well aware that she lied. Amelia held her breath as she waited in dread for him to demand a meeting with her brother. She did not know enough of the law to be certain she could keep him from forcing his way through her home. Then, much to her relief, he allowed a wry smile to touch his lips.
âI hope it is nothing serious?â
âNo, I do not believe so,â she babbled. âStill, he is very weak.â
âAh, well, then I will not trouble him,â the runner said, rising to his feet.
Amelia stood and crossed toward the door. The sooner this man was out of her home, the better.
âThat would be for the best, I believe.â
Moving across the room, Mr. Ryan paused as he stepped through the door. âThank you for your help, Miss Hadwell. Oh, and please tell your brother that I will return in a day or so to speak with him.â
The hope that she had managed to put this man off died a swift and painful death. He would return. And on the next occasion he would insist on speaking with William.
Not even her fierce determination could keep
Janice Kay Johnson - His Best Friend's Baby