Page 54 of The Meaning of Love
When she, in turn, looked at him questioningly, he went on, “She’s been the only female at the castle—well, female of the family—since my younger sister married, and that was more than five years ago. I know Mama misses female company and having another female to discuss things with.”
“I can understand that.” Melissa thought of her own family, which was well supplied with female members. “I still miss having Mandy beside me, to share secrets with.”
Julian threw her a resigned look. “I believe I can predict that you and Mama will end thick as thieves, united against us poor hapless males.”
She laughed, but then her smile faded, and her expression grew serious and sober.
He felt an urge to make her smile again, but with the most recent attack still fresh in his mind, he was as troubled as she.
As they neared the corner of Grosvenor Square, she raised her head, drew in a deeper breath, then looked at him and, when he met her eyes, asked, “Could Felix be behind the attacks?”
He blinked. “What?” Astonished, he halted and stared at her. “No. Of course not.”
When she didn’t look convinced, he asked, “What made you think that?”
She looked at him in mild frustration and opened her mouth to reply, then noticed other pedestrians walking past and thought better of it.
He agreed. Privacy was required for such a discussion, and in this area, both of them stood a good chance of being recognized.
They’d halted at the corner of Grosvenor Square. He scanned the square’s central park and spotted an unoccupied bench along one of the paths. He nodded that way. “Come on. Let’s sit and discuss this.”
They crossed the cobbled street and walked into the park. After claiming the wrought-iron seat, shaded by the branches of a cherry tree, currently in full bloom, Melissa shifted so she could more easily see his face and said, “When you were shot at in the park, Felix was there, remember? And last night, when the urn fell, he’s the only one we know for certain had been upstairs. There’s no evidence anyone else was, and I assume you’ve checked with the staff this morning and no one saw anyone by the back stairs?”
He was forced to concede the point. “No one saw anyone unexpected near the stairs, much less going up or down them.”
She nodded. “Well, then, was Felix at the castle when the incident with the thorn occurred?”
He met her gaze. After a moment of inner debate, he admitted, “Felix met me as I left the stable, just after I’d learned about the thorn.” When she stared—all but glared—at him, he took her hand and gently squeezed. “While I admit Felix is one of the few who might have put the thorn in place, and he couldn’t have known that I wouldn’t use that saddle that morning, you’re going to have to think again, because I know it’s not him.”
Frowning, she studied his eyes. Eventually, she asked, “Why are you so certain he isn’t the culprit?”
He closed his hand more firmly about hers. “Because Felix and I are close. It’s not simply a matter of being brothers of similar age who’ve grown up together, although that’s part of it. Once, when he was ten and I was eleven, I saved his life. He nearly drowned, and while I was the stronger swimmer, he panicked, and I had to fight him to get him to shore. He and I know that, at one point when we went over a low weir, it would have been much safer for me to let him go, but I wouldn’t. He’s never forgotten that. I’ve never tried to make him feel he owed me—I don’t think of the incident in that way—but that’s the way he sees it. He’s been my champion and would-be defender ever since, even if I don’t need defending, and over the years, that’s become an ingrained part of who he is. He would be as likely to cut off his own arm as try to harm me.”
Her frown lightened, but she was clearly still uncertain.
Struck by inspiration, he asked, “Would you ever believe Mandy would deliberately set out to murder you?”
She sighed. “No, of course not.” After a moment, she shook her head. “That could simply never happen. So yes, I understand. And you and Felix do seem similarly close.”
Julian nodded. “We’re not twins, but as near as makes no odds.” After a moment, he asked, “Aside from his proximity—in all three instances, I admit—was there any other reason you focused on him?”
Once again, she looked at him as if he was being obtuse. “He’s your heir, isn’t he?”
He blinked. “Well, yes. He is.” Then he shook his head. “But as we’ve now established, it isn’t him.”
“Hmm.” After a moment of frowning cogitation, she met his eyes. “Is it common knowledge how close you and Felix are?”
He thought about it, then admitted, “I doubt it. We’ve never lived in each other’s pockets, certainly not while in London.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her gaze fixed unseeing across the park. Eventually, she murmured, as if trying out the thought, “Could it be that, assuming you and Felix are no closer than some brothers—and let’s face it, not all brothers are close when there’s a wealthy earldom at stake—someone has thought to cast him as their scapegoat?” She met his eyes. “Might we be supposed to leap to the conclusion that Felix is behind the attacks? Him being near on three separate occasions is surely more than coincidence.”
He frowned. “I’d like to say you’re wrong, yet three times does stretch belief. But I can’t see why anyone would want to make it appear that Felix is at fault.”
She almost hissed in exasperation. “Because if you’re murdered and Felix is convicted of the crime, he can’t inherit.”
“But that just passes the title and estate to Damian, and before you ask, it’s not him, either. Just thinking of something this convoluted and complicated, let alone organizing it, is far,farout of character for my little brother.” He caught her gaze. “Damian is very much as he appears—cheery, devil-may-care, easygoing, and essentially harmless.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But is he in debt? Perhaps someone suggested the scheme as a means of accessing the Delamere wealth?”
