Page 113 of The Meaning of Love
Richards’s head came up, and the startled look in his eyes was all the answer anyone needed.
Julian leaned forward. “That’s the only sensible conclusion. Not only with you but with the others, too. He’s blackmailing you all, but what I want you to know is that whatever he’s blackmailing you about isn’t of any interest to us. All we want is his name. Under duress, he’s forced the four of you to attempt dastardly crimes—that wasn’t a choice any of you made. You had no choice. Is that correct?”
Richards’s expression as he nodded was almost painfully hopeful.
His entire focus on Richards, Julian spread his hands. “All we want is the man’s name.”
Richards stared at him, clearly thinking, and Julian went on, “You and the others, your attempted crimes pale into insignificance when compared to his. He is the true villain here.”
All Julian’s years of experience told him Richards was close to taking the final step and telling them what they wanted to know, but he needed more—another push—to tip him over the line.
Drawing in a careful breath, his eyes never leaving Richards’s face, Julian shot off a quick prayer that the others wouldn’t react and said, “If you will give us your blackmailer’s name, I will do all I can to see you and the others free of all charges.”
It was within his power to do that; he was fairly certain that Richards, at least, would know it. Melissa didn’t move a finger, and neither did Felix. Damian shifted, but kept his mouth shut.
Richards was sorely tempted; that much was plain in his face. His gaze growing distant, he stared unseeing past Julian, then his shoulders straightened, his features firmed, and he shifted in the chair. He licked his lips and leaned forward, as if about to speak, then froze.
A second later, his features crumpled, and his posture sagged. He refocused on Julian, and there was no doubt of the depth of his regret as he said, “Thank you for the offer, my lord, and I’m truly sorry to be disobliging but”—he gestured in helpless fashion—“I daren’t.” He met Julian’s eyes, and Julian would have sworn he saw desperation in Richards’s gaze. Sorrowfully, Richards shook his head. “I just can’t.”
He looked down.
In that moment, Richards was at his weakest. Instinct prodded, and Julian asked, “Tell us this, then. Regarding your attempt to kill us, did you think of the details on your own, or did he, your blackmailer, give you directions and you merely followed them?”
Richards’s head came up, but his gaze remained bleak and hopeless. “The latter. He told me to use the puppy as bait, to wait for the right time and get you and preferably your lady, too, into the barn, then lock you in and set the place alight.”
His features crumpled, and he dropped his head. “God help me, but I did what he told me.”
Julian studied his downbent head. He’d heard the ring of truth and of deep remorse in Richards’s words, and from what he sensed emanating from Melissa, Felix, and even Damian, they had, too.
From experience, he knew there was no point pressing at this stage. Richards had tried to throw off the hold X had on him and had failed. More time might help. Time with the three others in similar straits would certainly not hurt.
Evenly, Julian said, “I’m not going to rush into initiating proceedings against you or the others. My offer to you and them stands. If you or any of the others change your mind and are willing to give me the name of the gentleman behind the attacks, all you need do is tell whoever comes with your food to let me know you wish to talk to me.”
Richards glanced up, then dipped his head. “Thank you for your forbearance, my lord.” He paused, then more quietly said, “I don’t know that it will help but…”
The inference was that it might.
Julian nodded at Damian, who pushed away from the bookshelf and went to the door.
Thornley and Phelps arrived, and Richards rose and went with the pair.
As the door closed behind the trio, Julian exhaled and sat back. “At least as far as our prisoners go, now, we wait and see.”
Later that night, ready for bed in her nightgown with a shawl wrapped about her shoulders and her hair brushed and hanging free, Melissa stood staring out of her uncurtained bedroom window at the rolling woodland canopies lit by the rising moon.
Jolene had just left, and as Melissa waited for Julian to join her, her mind retrod the events of the day, dwelling especially on the strange interview with Richards and on all she’d sensed rippling beneath the surface, not just Richards’s surface but that of the entire situation.
Immediately after the interview, they’d tossed around their various observations, but had ended agreeing to each think through all they’d absorbed and to confer tomorrow and compare their conclusions.
When the connecting door opened and Julian, wearing a gray-silk robe and with his feet bare, came padding in, she drank in the sight, but resisted the distraction long enough to say, “I’ve been trying to imagine what sort of secret X holds over his four pawns. Not only does his grip on them seem unbreakable, but given they each seem entirely separate, there must be four unconnected secrets, not just one.”
Julian reached her and drew her into his arms, and she went readily. Gently, he settled her body flush with his, and something inside her sighed, and she softened against him.
His gray eyes, faintly troubled, met hers. “I’ve been wondering much the same thing. I can’t conceive of what is holding all of them back—and as you rightly point out, the secret has to be different in all four cases. Whatever those four secrets are, they’re powerful. So strong, none of them will risk speaking, even though, at the very least, they’re facing transportation. They have to know that—and know I can make the charges vanish—yet they still won’t speak to save themselves. They won’t name the bastard.” He frowned and shook his head. “Why?”
Sensing how deeply the situation troubled him—especially as, effectively, he held all four lives in his hands—Melissa raised her arms, draped them over his shoulders, pressed her body more firmly to his, and when his attention refocused on her, said, “Let’s forget about X for the next ten hours. Nothing’s going to change in that time.”
His lips curved, and his gaze warmed. As he bent his head, he murmured, “That’s a suggestion—a challenge—I’ll accept with pleasure.”
