Glorious Angel (14 page)

“Cat got your tongue, Angela?” he asked with a contemptuous curling of his lips.

“No, I—I’m just surprised to see you,” she replied nervously.

He laughed at the fearful look she couldn’t hide. “Do I frighten you, Angela? I see you don’t carry a rifle around with you anymore.”

She moved back from him. “What do you want, Billy?”

“Just a friendly chat,” he said in a sarcastic tone. “But then, you never were friendly, were you?” His brown eyes suddenly darkened. “It was a pretty smart move on your part, running’ to Maitland Senior about me, havin’ him threaten my pa with foreclosure if I didn’t leave you alone. Pa sent me up North to live with my uncle, among all them damn Yankees—even while the war was still ragin’! And all because of you, Angela Sherrington!”

There was a bitter hate in his eyes that made her flinch. She could barely catch her breath. “I had nothing to do with that, Billy. I never told him about that day. I hardly even knew Jacob Maitland then.”

“You know him well enough now, don’t you?”

“What is
that
supposed to mean?”

He ignored her question as his eyes measured her. “You turned out even prettier than I expected. You were a lot smarter than I thought, too.
You set yourself high stakes and went after them.” He grinned now. “Can’t say I blame you, though. Livin’ in that fine mansion, just like a member of the family, sure must beat a tiny house in the city like I offered you. And I suppose it don’t matter that Jacob Maitland is old enough to be your father, not as long as he takes care of you in such a high fashion.”

“I think this conversation has lasted long enough!” Angela said sharply. She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and swung her back around. “Let go of me, Billy!”

“My pa’s done paid off his debts to Jacob Maitland, so there will be no threats this time,” he sneered, his fingers biting into her arm. “But it don’t make no difference anyway, since I don’t answer to my pa any longer. I’ve made my own way up in New York, thanks to the death of my uncle, who was grateful for my companionship in his last years. Yeah, I’m doin’ just fine.” He grabbed her other arm and shook her, forcing her to look at him. “I could offer you better now, Angela. Now that you’ve been schooled to be a lady, I might even marry you.”

Angela suddenly became infuriated. She jerked herself free of his grip and glared at him, her eyes glowing a deep blue-violet.

“You
might
even marry me? Well, I have news for you, Billy Anderson!” she snapped. “My answer is the same as it was before! And let me make it clear once and for all. You disgust me!
Never—
never
would I even consider being your mistress. And as for marriage, I would sooner marry a lowly tramp than you! Now since you don’t dare do anything to me in front of all these witnesses, I suggest you leave. Jacob will be here at any moment.”

He laughed derisively, as if he hadn’t even heard her. “You think I’m afraid of that old man? You’re right about only one thing, Angela. You’re safe enough now, but there’ll be another time. I meant what I said the last time we met. I mean to have you. I’ve thought about you constantly all these years. I hated you at first—I think I do even more now. But that will just make it so much better when I finally make you mine. And I will, Angela. No matter how long it takes, you will answer to me one day. Or you will die first.”

He gave her one last long, piercing look, then tipped his hat and walked away.

Angela was deeply shaken. After all these years, would she have to live in fear again? No! She was not alone in the world any longer. She had the Maitlands. Jacob would protect her.

And just then the shiny black carriage that she knew so well pulled up in front of her and she pushed the encounter with Billy Anderson to the back of her mind.

But it was Robert Lonsdale and his sister who stepped out to greet her, not Jacob.

Their solemn faces announced that something
was wrong. She was reminded of the day her father died.

“Where is Jacob?” she cried out, terrified.

“He’s had a bad attack, Angela—his heart.” Robert broke the news as gently as he could. “But his doctor says he’s going to be all right, as long as he takes it easy. He’s got to stay in bed until he recovers his strength.”

Relief brought tears to her eyes. It wasn’t as bad as it might be. But fifty-five years old was too old to be having heart attacks with much chance of surviving them. Dear God, don’t let him die! she pleaded silently.

“Don’t take it so hard,” Crystal said drily. “He’s probably gonna be fine, so you needn’t worry about losin’ your position at Golden Oaks. At least not yet.”

Angela gasped. Robert retorted angrily, “There is no call for that, Crystal!”

“I suppose not, but I just couldn’t resist,” Crystal giggled. “After all, if anything ever did happen to Father Maitland…”

She let her words trail behind her as she turned and stepped back into the carriage, leaving Angela staring after her, tears turning to fury.

Twenty

The downtown office of David Welk was tastefully furnished by a mahogany desk and tables, cream-colored chairs, and a sofa. Portraits of Presidents adorned the walls, and a small bar, liberally stocked, stood unobtrusively in a corner of the room.

Behind the large desk was a huge picture window looking out on a garden in full bloom. A summer storm was brewing and a brisk wind played havoc with the delicate flowers, sending leaves and colorful petals scurrying past the window.

Bradford Maitland sat impatiently watching the gathering storm, hoping he could make it back to his hotel before it began. After months without progress, one of Welk’s detectives had found Angela. Bradford had rushed here from New York, only to be told that David was out of town, and
wouldn’t return until that evening. He had arranged to meet David at his office at six o’clock.

As the hour approached seven, Bradford finished his third Bourbon and water, his fingers unconsciously tapping his leg. Lightning struck, signaling the beginning of the storm. He nearly jumped out of his chair when the door finally opened and David, still in his traveling clothes, walked slowly into the room.

“Damn you, David!” Bradford snapped irritably. “Do you think I have nothing better to do than sit around your office and get drunk waiting for you?”

David Welk smiled tiredly, looking much older than his forty years. He removed his hat and coat before sitting down heavily in the chair behind his desk.

“I
was
going to berate you, but you always beat me to it,” David sighed, shaking his head. He leaned forward, his brows narrowed. “I think I’ll do it anyway. Confound you, Bradford! Must you always conduct your business with me after normal working hours? Here I reach home just in time for dinner, only to find that I have to meet you here. If you’re not taking me away from my family, then you’re summoning me in the middle of the night!”

“I pay you to be available, so don’t expect any apology,” Bradford retorted.

David threw up his arms in exasperation. “Far be it for me to expect Bradford Maitland to con
form to normal working hours! Or to conform to anything else, for that matter.”

Bradford finally relaxed and grinned. “Some of my best deals have been concluded after midnight. And I might add, in more amusing surroundings than offices. And now that we have dispensed with the amenities,” he said, and smiled, hearing David’s “humph.” “Where is she?”

“You do get to the point rather quickly, don’t you?”

“You know how long I’ve waited for this information,” Bradford replied, still smiling. “Out with it.”

“The news…isn’t what you’re expecting, Bradford,” David said, uncomfortable now. “I’m afraid I sent word to you a bit prematurely.”

Bradford sat up rigidly. “You did find the girl? Don’t tell me you’ve lost her!”

“Well, yes—and no. What I mean is, we found a girl that fit her description. She’s married and living in Maine now. She lived here during the time in question, and her name is Angela, just like your girl—she’s even the right age.”

“What’s the problem then?”

“She just isn’t the right one. She’s a nice girl.”

“So was mine, damnit!” Bradford growled angrily. “Just because she—”

“You don’t understand, Bradford,” David said quickly. “The girl we found is the daughter of a minister. She was strictly raised.”

“What difference does that make? I told you my Angela was not a whore or a thief. That business about the vest was all a mistake.”

“I know, I know. But this girl has a three-year-old daughter. We checked to make sure the child was really hers. And you did say your girl was a virgin when you met her.”

“All right.” Bradford sighed. “So I made this trip for nothing.”

“I am sorry, Bradford,” David apologized. “I did send you a telegram just as soon as I knew we had gone off on the wrong trail again. Apparently it didn’t reach you in time.”

“Unfortunately, no,” Bradford remarked, dejected. He had been in such high spirits. “Have you nothing encouraging to report?”

“I’m afraid not, Bradford.”

“A new lead?” Bradford continued hopefully. “Something—anything?”

David squirmed uneasily. He respected Bradford Maitland, for he was a genius when it came to business. But he felt Bradford had lost his balance where the elusive Angela was concerned.

“David, I have to find her.”

“Give it up, Bradford. The girl can hardly be worth all this time and effort—and expense.”

“She’s worth it,” Bradford said wistfully. His eyes were far away as he remembered the soft curves, the hypnotic violet eyes, the delicate beauty, the sunny smile. “She’s more than worth it.”

Wishing he had more encouragement to offer, David said, “There was a student at the school who fit the girl’s description, but she was from the South and you did say at the time not to bother with that lead, since your Angela couldn’t possibly have been southern. And the Barkley woman explained that there were no Smiths at the school that year. It’s time to give it up.”

“No.”

“Very well, Bradford,” David sighed. “If you want to continue supporting the detectives I’ve hired—well, that’s up to you. I’ve given you my advice, and that’s all I can do. But one last word: Don’t keep your hopes up. Too much time has passed. There just aren’t any clues left to follow.”

“There’s that one we passed up. If it’s all you have, then start looking in the South.”

“As you wish,” David replied, and stood up, ending the meeting.

Returning to his hotel, Bradford found the desk clerk eager to see him. “This telegram just arrived for you, sir,” the man smiled.

“Thank you,” Bradford replied, looking at the piece of paper with annoyance, assuming it was the belated telegram from David Welk. But the message was not what he expected.

YOUR FATHER HAD HEART ATTACK. CRITICAL.
COME QUICKLY. DR. SCARRON.

Twenty-one

Three weeks after Jacob Maitland’s attack, Hannah met Angela in the hall outside his bedroom. “Is the master sleepin’, child?” Hannah whispered as Angela closed the door to Jacob’s room.

“Yes, but I think we should call Dr. Scarron back,” Angela said with deep concern.

“What happened?” Hannah asked, her eyes wide. “Has he gotten worse?”

“I don’t know,” Angela replied, her violet eyes filled with anxious worry. “He ate well tonight, and then he fell asleep. But after a few minutes passed, he started talking as if he were delirious.”

“Oh, Missy,” Hannah laughed, vastly relieved. “That’s nothin’ to be worried about. Master Jacob talks in his sleep. Always has.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yessum. Don’t you recall that’s how my Luke
found out about Master Bradford fightin’ for the North? And I heard him myself one day long ago, when he was asleep on the sofa in his study.”

On her way to the kitchen, Angela thought about what Jacob had said in his sleep. Jacob had called out her mother’s name three times; nothing else, just Charissa. She thought he had mistaken her for her mother. But after what Hannah had told her, she didn’t think so. Jacob was dreaming about Charissa Sherrington. But why?