“And that,” Melissa concluded, catching Julian’s eyes, “should mean that we are, finally, free of X’s attacks.”
She smiled, and Julian read her relief in the gesture. That she and his mother were both convinced went a very long way to convincing him that they could relax their vigilance.
Veronica was plainly relieved and reassured, but Frederick had always been one to remain concerned long after all danger had passed. He still looked grave, but Julian was grateful that his uncle didn’t give voice to any lingering doubts.
Phelps arrived to announce that luncheon was served, and they rose and headed for the family dining room.
Melissa urged Veronica and Frederick to lead the way and fell in with Julian and his brothers.
When she arched a brow at him, he didn’t pretend not to understand. “I thought to leave Richards to talk to the others and dwell on their collective fate for a while before speaking to him. And I’ve decided to change the setting for my interrogation to the library.”
When she looked her question, he explained, “I’m hoping that I might be better able to convince him to loosen his tongue in a more civilized setting.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “I see.”
After lunch, leaving Veronica to further soothe Frederick, who was not quite ready to accept that the threat had passed, Melissa went with Julian, Felix, and Damian to the library.
Under Julian’s direction, they moved chairs around until he was satisfied, then Damian went with Thornley to fetch Richards from the dungeon cell.
As instructed, Melissa sat in an armchair to one side of the desk, angled to face the upright chair—with its comfortably padded seat, back, and armrests—that Julian had placed directly before the desk.
Felix took an armchair set off to the desk’s other side and a little behind it.
Julian sat in his customary chair behind the desk and surveyed the scene. “I don’t want to intimidate or to make this into an inquisition.”
Melissa wasn’t sure he would succeed in that, but she was willing to play whatever role he assigned her. She wanted X’s game to end, and the only way they would accomplish that was to identify the villain.
The door opened, and Damian ushered Richards inside. Previously, Melissa would have said Richards was in his mid-thirties. Now, he looked ten years older. At least. The erstwhile footman looked somewhat the worse for wear, but had plainly attempted to make himself presentable; his dark hair had been smoothed, and his clothes were neat and straight.
Julian nodded to the obviously trepidatious man and waved him to the chair before the desk.
Hesitantly, Richards came forward, his gaze flicking about the room. He took note of the rest of them seated and waiting, then glanced at Damian, who had followed him inside and retreated to lean, arms folded, against the bookshelves not far from Melissa’s chair.
Rounding the upright chair, Richards glanced at the door just as Thornley, who had remained in the corridor, drew it shut. Richards swallowed and turned to face Julian and, at his encouraging nod, sank gingerly onto the chair.
Julian clasped his hands on the desk and, with his expression giving no clue whatsoever to his thoughts, evenly stated, “We understand that you’ve been recruited by a gentleman to carry out an attack or attacks on me and my family.”
He paused, looking at Richards expectantly, and uncertainly, Richards nodded and croaked, “Aye, my lord.”
Melissa blinked. So X was a gentleman? She suddenly understood the rationale behind Julian’s approach.
“Before we discuss that further,” Julian smoothly went on, “let’s set the record straight. You were the one who took the puppy, Ulysses, to the barn?”
This time, when Julian paused, Richards said, “Yes.”
“You saw us head for the orchard, so you set a trap and locked us in the barn.” Again, Julian paused.
Looking rather ill, Richards merely nodded.
“And then you set fire to the building. Is that correct?”
Richards cleared his throat and raised his head, not defiantly but as if staunchly determined to own up to his misdeeds. “Yes, my lord.”
Julian studied the man, not in any threatening way but instead exuding the impression of wanting to understand. “Phelps informs me that your references are sound. They’re genuine, although not recent. Apparently until now, you’ve led a blameless, honest life. Yet you came here and attempted to commit what, had you succeeded, would have amounted to multiple murders.” His expression showing nothing but puzzlement, Julian asked, “Why?”
Richards stared at him. That he wanted to answer was written all over his face. His lips even parted, but then his shoulders sagged, and he looked down.
His tone more gentle, Julian asked, “I take it the gentleman who put you up to this is blackmailing you into doing as he wishes?”
