“I don’t believe you,” said Terry. “They’d never dare disobey me.”

Richard smiled. “Only if I ask them. Some of them owe me their good name and others are only drawn to me by the promise of filthy lucre. None of them have ever peached, and never will.”

“Peached?” Terry repeated.

“Not all my experiences have been as salubrious as you might suppose.” Richard looked as though he was in a drawing room chatting, not standing against a window holding a gun to the head of the vilest man I’d ever known. “I called a muster. I was, I admit, surprised to receive replies from under this roof, but they were the most enthusiastic members of the venture. I spoke with some of them. I thought they exaggerated somewhat, but they swear they did not.” He looked down at Terry, contempt etched into his elegant features. “I don’t propose to repeat them but it seems you enjoy making people suffer, including your own family. Miss Golightly prevented me from giving your daughter a serious set-down at Exeter Assembly Rooms. Now I know more about you I can only thank her for it. It isn’t Eustacia’s fault she has turned out thoughtless and selfish. It must have been her only defence against you.”

“What do you know?” Terry snarled. “Women need to be kept in their place, something you’ll learn only too soon if you still intend to marry this piece.”

“What’s all this about?” Tom managed, his voice obeying him at last.

“You weren’t meant to be here, Tom,” I reminded him. “Did you think we’d come here without any preparation, without even a plan?”

“Do you think I would bring Rose here if there was any danger at all?” Richard added softly. “Since everyone here is sworn to secrecy—including you, Tom—” Tom nodded dumbly, “—I needn’t scruple to tell you I love her more than life itself, and I would never voluntarily put her at any risk. I only brought her because she needed to see for herself, to put her mind at rest.”

“You couldn’t have stopped me,” I said, smiling at him.

“Short of locking you up, no. But if you hadn’t come, you would never have been completely sure in your mind.”

Tom looked from Richard to me and sighed. “She was always headstrong as a girl. I could never manage her.”

“She doesn’t need managing,” Richard looked at me with the expression he reserved for me alone. “She knows her own mind as well as I know mine. She will do as she thinks fit, and she’ll make me proud of her.” Tom sighed again, heavily than the last time.

My love looked across at me and smiled, meeting my eyes. “Do you want to stay, sweetheart?”

“Absolutely,” I replied.

When his attention went back to Terry his face hardened again. “The only men in this house are Thompson’s. My men. All the others have leave of absence, supposedly on Terry’s orders.”

Terry broke in, his harsh voice intruding on the quiet one. “Tell me what you want, and then go.”

“Yes, of course.” Richard’s gun never wavered. “First of all, the apology. You offered Miss Golightly a deep insult. Several, in fact.”

“Very well.” Terry was back in control of himself again. He stared across his desk at me and he grinned, the spirit still there, the memory still in his mind. “It was worth it, though.”

Without warning, Richard swung the butt of the pistol and struck him in a backhanded swipe that knocked him sideways. Terry would have fallen out of his chair but for its arms, which kept him in place. Richard coolly reached down, hooked it into Terry’s collar, and hauled him back into place.

The fat man’s temple bled freely, but he didn’t try to staunch the wound in any way. He seemed to be stunned, shaking his head to try to restore his reason. Richard waited. I didn’t move, although the force of the blow and its cold, deliberate delivery made Tom wince.

“The apology,” Richard reminded him, when Terry had recovered a little.

The man reached for his wine, and then snatched his hand back.

“Are there any unpoisoned decanters?” Richard asked him.

“All the others.” Terry held his hands to his head in an effort to steady himself. Richard glanced at Tom. “If you wouldn’t mind?” Tom silently went and poured a drink for Terry, brandy by the look of it, which the man took and drank straight down without a pause. He put the glass on the table with shaking fingers.

Richard leaned forward and moved the glass out of his reach. “I should hate to see you try to spoil my looks.”

Richard held the pistol still unwaveringly trained on Terry’s temple. “I see you’ve recovered your usual good temper. Please—let’s waste no more energy on this.”

Terry stared at me, blood seeping from the nasty wound on his head. I sat still and straight. “I seem to have offered you some insult,” he said in a formal tone. “I regret the incident, and I offer you my heartfelt apologies.”

I nodded. “Look down, away from her,” Richard ordered. Terry obeyed, staring at the polished desk top in front of him. “Now then,” Richard continued, to Tom and I. “Should it be suicide—or an accident?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tom’s head jerked up, white and shocked. “My God, Strang, what are you saying?”

Richard’s celestial blue eyes opened wider in surprise. “Did you think I would take his word? Did you think it was going to be a polite apology, shake hands and go home? What do you take me for?”

“A murderer.” This choked out from Terry, rigid under the