The Heiress (Madison Sisters 2)

"Can we not think of another name for him?" Daniel asked with irritation. "This is getting annoying."

"Answer the damned question," Richard insisted.

"Well, of course she didn't know," he said finally. "Hell, I didn't know until I got in. In fact, it was my attempt to distract her from his presence that led to the 'damned close' bit." He sighed and added, "So it's ironic that it was also his presence that brought an end to it."

Richard ran an agitated hand through his hair and asked, "If you haven't bedded her, why consider marrying her? It's rather sudden, isn't it? You hardly know the chit."

Daniel stiffened at the perceived criticism, and snapped, "I know her as well as you know Christiana and you're marrying her."

"Christiana is a special woman and our situation is not a common one."

"Well, Suzette is just as special and our situation is not common either," he shot back, and then frowned as he realized what he'd said. Unfortunately, he couldn't dispute it. Suzette was special. Aside from the fact that he'd never encountered anyone who inspired quite the same depth of passion in him that she did, he found her unbelievably fascinating. Her tendency to just say what she felt was something not done by the majority of the ton, and after a childhood and early manhood spent living a lie to hide his family's poverty, Daniel found that blunt honesty refreshing. He also found her charming and amusing and spirited and . . .

Sighing, he explained, "She proposed to me at the ball, and then when she found me in her room, thought I had come to say yes to her proposal. Rather than explain my real purpose in being there I let her believe it because I couldn't come up with an alternate explanation for my presence. I am still trying to come up with one. But I am also considering her proposal seriously in the meantime."

"Why the devil would she propose to you? She wants a husband in need of money who will agree to her terms," Richard pointed out.

Daniel grimaced. "Yes, well, I may have misled her as to my financial status."

Richard raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

"Because when she asked me about my income and such I assumed she was just another fortune-seeking debutante and lied. You can imagine my surprise when rather than scaring her off, my saying I had no money prompted a proposal." He shook his head and thought wryly that he had rather been hoisted with his own petard. But in his defense, it wasn't uncommon for fortune-seeking mamas and their daughters to chase him. In fact, the idea that Suzette had no interest in his hard-earned wealth made a nice change.

"So rather than just tell her that you have money--"

"I have no intention of telling her that, and you'd best not either," Daniel said grimly. "And don't even think about offering to pay off the father's gambling debts. I shall attend those myself whether I marry her or not."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Why should I not offer to pay them off? It would remove the pressure the women are under."

Daniel felt his mouth tighten. "Suzette is not enthralled with the idea of marrying after all she's learned about Christiana's experiences this last year. She may very well bury herself in the countryside and eschew marriage altogether should she learn it isn't a necessity, and I can hardly get to know her better if she is at Madison Manor and I am at Woodrow."

"Ah," Richard murmured, and then cleared his throat and said, "Fine, I shall refrain from offering to pay . . . for now."

Daniel nearly slumped with relief. "Thank you."

Richard waved his gratitude away and changed the subject. "The good news is that since I've decided to uphold the marriage to Christiana, we can simply dispose of you know who. I was considering our options on the way here--"

Daniel shook his head and interrupted. "That might not be the best idea."

Richard paused and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I think perhaps it would be best not to dispose of him at all yet. At least not until we sort out this business of who killed him."

"Why?" Richard asked with apparent surprise, and then reasoned, "It is not as if he can be a witness in his own murder."

"No, but we cannot prove murder without a body," Daniel pointed out. "Whoever poisoned him will soon think they failed, if they don't already. They will try again."

Richard appeared upset at this suggestion, and said grimly, "Then I shall have to be careful about what I eat and drink. But I see no need to keep you know who around until we catch his killer. We can charge whoever it is with attempted murder when they try to kill me."

Daniel was silent for a moment. He was worried. They had enough problems without having to watch out for another murder attempt on Richard. He had been lucky in escaping the plans George had set out for him, but now there was a completely unknown person who had apparently wanted him, or George as him, dead and they had no idea who it was or why this individual wanted to kill him. It seemed to Daniel that it might be smarter to keep George around just in case they needed to prove the first murder attempt, or even the identity business. At this point they simply didn't know what was going on or what might happen. Finally, he just said, "It just seems to me to be smarter to keep you know who around until we have it all sorted out."

"Very well," Richard gave in. "Have you hidden him somewhere safe?"

Daniel grimaced at the question. "Er . . . well, actually no. I placed him in the pavilion in the back garden for the night."

"In the . . . ?" Richard stared at him blankly.

Daniel shrugged. "It was the only place I could think of. I needed somewhere cold, but covered and that was all I could come up with at the time." Besides, it had been late, he had been tired and cranky and really, where did one hide a dead man? The answer to that had been beyond him at the time. Now, he pointed out, "But he shall have to be moved before too much longer."

"Yes," Richard agreed grimly. "He definitely needs to be moved."

"I had an idea about that too."

"Do tell," Richard requested dryly.

Daniel ignored his sarcasm. "I thought it might be best to put him back in the master bedroom."

The suggestion had Richard's eyes bugging out. "What? You--"

"Now hear me out before you protest," Daniel insisted firmly. Really, he'd never known the man to be this excitable, but then they'd never before been in quite this position. "The girls have already seen that "Dicky" is gone and so believe you are you . . . which of course you are. They also know the bed is now in ruins thanks to the ice they packed around who they thought was you. So, we dump him back in the bed, you keep the windows open to cool the room, and then lock off the doors and keep the keys. Then you say you have ordered a bed to replace the ruined one and that no one should bother entering the room until it arrives and the chamber can be set to rights."

Daniel thought it a rather clever idea himself. Basically they would be hiding the body in plain sight. He sat back with a smile, finishing, "That way he is close at hand if we need him for proof of anything, and yet out of the way of being found."

"I suppose that could work," Richard said thoughtfully.

"It will," Daniel assured him, and then admitted, "The only real problem I see is getting him out of here and back to your townhouse in broad daylight."

Richard stiffened and lifted his head, eyebrows rising in question, so Daniel pointed out, "He has to be moved soon. One of the servants might decide to take a turn around the gardens and stumble upon him before the day is out."

"Damn," Richard breathed. He stared at him with horror for a moment and then lowered his head.

When Richard sat staring at his feet for a prolonged period, Daniel sat back to wait, sure the other man would come up with something. He himself wasn't up to the task at the moment. He was exhausted, his eyes gritty and a yawn threatening to force his jaws open. What Daniel really wanted to do was go back to bed. However now that he had recalled the problem with his choice of hiding spot for the body, he knew he wouldn't rest until it was moved. It had seemed a perfectly fine place to put the body at the time, but the moment he'd admitted where he'd put George he'd recognized the dangers in leaving it there. Daniel supposed he'd just been too tired and out of sorts last night to think of these problems.