An unusually ruffled Phelps. “My lord, you sent for Richards, but I regret to say that it seems the man has…well, scarpered in the middle of the night. His things are gone, and no one has seen him since yesterday evening, when he retired with everyone else. Today was his day off, and no one noticed he wasn’t about until Martin went looking just now.”
“I see.” Julian looked at his brothers and arched a brow.
“Just to be sure”—Felix looked at Phelps—“Richards is the tall one, mid-thirties, squarish face, medium build, with dark, slightly wavy hair and a pale complexion?”
When Phelps nodded, Felix looked at Julian. “I saw Richards hanging back in the shadows of the kitchen corridor when we came up from the cellar after speaking with Benton. I wondered what he was doing there—he didn’t seem on his way to anywhere at the time.”
Melissa said, “He must have been watching, listening if he could, to see if we blamed Benton for the fire. But we didn’t say anything to anyone to suggest we had.”
His features setting, Julian nodded. “He must have reasoned that we would work out that she wasn’t responsible sooner rather than later and cast our net more widely and, eventually, look at him.”
Damian pushed out of his chair, straightened, and stretched. “Well, I, for one, am in the mood for a chase.” He met the others’ eyes. “There are only so many ways Richards could have gone, and even if he set out late last night, he can’t have got that far.” He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “It’s only half past nine.”
Julian mused, “Ashbourne and Ripley are too small to get lost in, and Buxton’s the same and also too far away.”
Felix got to his feet. “That leaves Chesterfield or Derby—”
“And”—Julian also rose—“if he wants to lose himself and win free of any pursuit, he’ll make for London, so Derby it is.”
“He’s on foot,” Felix said, rising excitement in his voice, “so he’ll have to go via Kirk Ireton, but from there?”
Julian smiled in cool anticipation. “He’ll stay away from the main roads and keep to the byways, not knowing how difficult that will make it for him. He’ll almost certainly end on the lane past Kedleston Hall, and that will only slow him further.” Glancing at the clock, he rapidly calculated. “Chances are we’ll come up with him somewhere along that stretch.”
He turned to Phelps, who immediately straightened to attention. Julian gave crisp orders for their horses to be saddled, then glanced at Melissa and arched his brows in question.
Melissa met his gaze. “I’ve been thinking that it might be as well to interview the remaining recent hires, excepting Cantrell, who is the only local among them and whom we all feel is highly unlikely to be anyone’s pawn. That still leaves us with Carter, Biggins, Walter, the two younger maids, and the scullery boy.”
She rose and shook out her skirts. “Given how active X has been in recruiting people and placing them on our staff, it would be silly of us not to use the current situation to reassure ourselves we have no other pawns of his lurking as yet undetected.”
Felix looked puzzled. “How will you know?”
Quietly confident, she smiled every bit as coolly as her husband. “If there are any others, then I suspect they’ll be getting rather nervous by now. We’ve got three of their number locked up downstairs, and you three are about to ride Richards down.” She met Julian’s gray gaze and raised her chin. “I’m fairly certain that, if I interview them now and any are X’s pawns, it’ll be easy to further rattle them—I can’t see any maintaining a sufficiently innocent façade—and then we’ll know, which, regardless of the outcome, will be something of a relief.”
Julian nodded. “You’re right. That’s an excellent idea, and if I might suggest it, getting Mama and Uncle Frederick to help might kill two birds with one stone.”
She squeezed his arm. “That’s a brilliant notion. Your mother has a wealth of experience dealing with staff in all sorts of situations, which will undoubtedly be useful in this case.”
She understood the need to feel one was contributing, and if she could help ease Veronica’s and Frederick’s feelings of impotence, so much the better.
Damian was already eagerly striding toward the door. As Julian escorted her in Felix’s wake, Melissa met her husband’s eyes. “Meanwhile, do take care.” She looked at Felix and Damian as they paused at the door and glanced back. “That goes for all of you.”
Damian flashed her an insouciant grin. “Yes, ma’am!” He saluted her, then opened the door and strode out.
Felix grinned at her and followed.
Julian paused at the door and drew her to him for a swift yet quite definite kiss. Raising his head, he met her eyes. “We’ll be back as soon as we can—hopefully with Richards in tow.”
She nodded. “Good hunting.”
He, too, grinned, and then he was gone, striding purposefully after his brothers.
Following him into the corridor, Melissa watched him go, then made for the front hall. She found Phelps there. “Phelps, do you know where the dowager and Mr. Frederick are?”
“I believe they’re in the family parlor, my lady.”
“Thank you.” With a nod, she turned and, already planning how best to proceed, headed that way.
Julian held Argus to a ground-eating canter as, flanked by Felix and Damian, he headed down the road toward Derby.
