Christian returned his unwavering regard. “You may take that as read.”
A large part of the tension that had held Justin faded. He searched Christian’s face one last time, then nodded. He forked up the last morsel on his plate, chewed, swallowed, then set down his knife and fork and pushed the plate aside; Oscar stepped in and whisked it away.
“In that case…” Justin reached for his goblet. “It happened much as you said. What more do you need to know?”
“You said Randall had asked you to call. Why, and at what time was he expecting you?”
Justin paused, then, eyes on Christian’s face, replied, “He sent a message that morning. Said he wanted to talk to me about some investment and asked me to call after two.”
Christian frowned. “He was advising you about investments?”
Justin shook his head. “He was trying to lure me into debt. He’d tried to encourage me to gamble. When that didn’t work, it was collecting. Investments was his most recent tilt.”
“Why?”
Justin tipped his head in the direction of the house. “He wanted Nunchance.” When Christian looked his befuddlement, Justin continued, “Randall was very wealthy, but he didn’t have a country estate. He wanted one, but once he’d seen Nunchance, nothing else compared. So he was looking at ways to become the next owner. I know he’d made inquiries into breaking the entail. It’s difficult, but it’s not impossible-not if you’re connected to the family, have unlimited funds, and the present incumbent is in Newgate.”
“He was trying to bankrupt you?” Christian was having a hard time comprehending.
“Yes. Just as…well, never mind that. But that was what he wanted to chat to me about. I, of course, didn’t appreciate the summons, but I was curious to learn what he would say this time, so I called that evening. I knew he’d be in because I’d met Letitia earlier and she told me he’d cried off from going to some dinner with her.”
“But when you called, Letitia was with Randall.”
Justin nodded. “She’d come home, and was already in full flight. I knew what it was about.” His gaze flicked to Christian’s face.
Christian nodded, rather grim. “Hermione.”
“Another case of Randall trying to use our family to his own social-climbing ends. Regardless, on that topic, I knew I could leave him to Letitia-she wasn’t going to budge. I could hear how serious she was.”
“So you went to the library.” Christian leaned forward. “Do you know what time that was?”
“I left White’s at ten, so it was after that…” Justin’s frown cleared. “The clock in the library struck ten-thirty as I was settling with the Seneca.”
“Good. So at half past ten Letitia was screeching at Randall, and you were in the library. What time was it when you left?”
“It was the silence that finally registered. I was surprised it was so quiet and I looked at the clock.” Justin met Christian’s eyes. “It was after eleven-thirty-eleven-forty, give or take a minute. I remember because I was amazed at how deaf I’d been-I’d sat through both the hour and the half-hour chimes and hadn’t noticed.”
Intent, Christian nodded. “What happened next?”
“I set aside the Seneca and went to see if Randall was still downstairs. The house was totally silent, all the other rooms dark. The door to his study was shut, but I could see light beneath the door-a lamp was still burning. I thought he was still working-he often worked late. I opened the door expecting to see him sitting behind his desk. Instead…”
After a moment, frowning, Justin went on, “At first I thought he’d swooned and fallen. I went in, touched him, then saw the dent in the back of his head. If the lamp hadn’t been on that end of the desk, I wouldn’t have seen it-there wasn’t much to see. I checked for a pulse and then looked into his eyes-he was dead. Then I saw the poker lying on the other side of him.”
Justin fixed his eyes on Christian’s face. “Given the whole…” Searching for words, he gestured. “…situation between Letitia and Randall, and how that had echoes in this business about Hermione, I honestly thought he’d pushed her one step too far. That she’d seen red, picked up the poker when he turned away from her, and struck him. And killed him.”
“You didn’t think to go up and ask her-see her, find out, what state she was in?”
Justin grimaced. “I honestly didn’t know if she knew she’d killed him-as I said, the blow wasn’t that easy to see. She might just have struck him, not realized she’d struck so hard, then just flung down the poker and stormed out. Not the most likely thing, not with anyone else, but with her and Randall…well, it wasn’t inconceivable.”
“And you weren’t really thinking all that clearly.”
“Well, no. All I could think about was that she’d killed him, and all because of her marriage to him-all to protect the family, and that even then, she was protecting Hermione…” Justin’s jaw hardened. “I just thought it was time someone in the family protected her.”
Christian had question upon question crowding his mind-about Letitia, her marriage, the “situation”-but he forced himself to concentrate first on clarifying what had happened that night. “Let’s say it was eleven forty-five when you entered the study and found Randall dead. Mellon saw you leave the house, and he admitted he’d already been in bed for a time.”
Justin nodded. “I told him to take himself off, that I’d see myself in.”
“So he said. But Letitia must have left Randall shortly after that. You know your sister-she might rant, but the longest she’ll go for is ten minutes, then she runs out of steam, runs out of temper-and usually storms out and away from whoever she’s screeching at. In this case Randall. And that’s exactly what she says she did-so she must have left Randall at, say, ten thirty-five. Ten-forty at the latest.”
Frowning, Justin nodded for him to continue.
“So you find Randall at eleven forty-five, and wield the poker-but according to my knowledgeable surgeon, while Randall was definitely dead before you struck him, he’d only been dead for fifteen to thirty minutes at most. Not the hour that would have been the case if Letitia had killed him.”
Justin looked incredulous. “Someone else was there?”
Christian nodded. “It appears someone else saw Randall between she and you.”
“I didn’t hear anyone else arrive.” Justin grimaced. “Not that I necessarily would have.”
“Mellon swore no one did.” Christian reviewed what he now knew. “We’ll have to follow that up later, once we’re back in London.” He refixed his gaze on Justin’s face. “Let’s leave the mechanics of Randall’s death aside and concentrate on motives. What is it about Randall’s marriage to Letitia that explains all this?”
Justin blinked, then stared, expressionless, at him. Then he blinked again. “You don’t know?”
“Obviously not.”
Justin let his puzzlement show. “But why hasn’t she told you?”
A rhetorical question, but he gritted his teeth and replied, “You’ll have to ask her. But for now, why don’t you tell me.”
Justin’s perplexity turned to a frown. After a long moment he said, “It’s not my place.” His frown deepened, then he shook his head. “I can’t understand why she hasn’t told you. Before, I can understand-you never went near her, and so never gave her the chance…not that if she’d wanted to she couldn’t have created a moment. But now she’s asked you for help, and you’ve been seeing her for what? Six, seven days? And she still hasn’t told you?”
Christian looked at him. “Just tell me.”
There was that in his voice that brooked no further argument.