The Heiress (Madison Sisters 2)

"I heard what you said," she snapped, interrupting him. "Now, please explain exactly why the poor young girl thinks you would marry her for her dower."

Daniel winced at her tone. Every word was razor sharp and precise. She was angry. Grimacing, he said, "Well, Suzette has a rather large dower, huge really, and she wanted a husband who needed money and--" He paused abruptly as he saw her expression becoming befuddled, and sighed. "It is a long story, Mother. Just suffice it to say I couldn't let her see how well set we are financially or she might not have agreed to marry me."

"That makes absolutely no sense at all, Daniel," Lady Woodrow said impatiently. "Women look for a good provider. They want a husband with wealth."

"You didn't," he pointed out with amusement.

"Yes, well I am not like most women of the ton," she said with a wry smile.

"Neither is Suzette," Daniel assured her solemnly.

"So you mentioned. Still I--lie down," she snapped when he tried to rise again. "You will lie there and rest and explain this to me."

"There is no time. I need to get--"

"You need to rest and recover. I will send word to the inn, and--"

"No," he cried, grabbing her hand when she stood up. "She will come here. You can't let her come here."

Catherine Woodrow raised her eyebrows, but sat back down. "Then you had best explain why. Or I will send for her and get to the bottom of this myself."

Groaning, Daniel closed his eyes briefly, but then opened them again and glanced to the door as a knock sounded.

"Come in," his mother called, and the Woodrow butler opened the door to look in.

"My lady, the Lords Fairgrave and Langley are demanding to see Lord Woodrow, and insist they will not wait any longer to do so." He grimaced and pointed out, "They have been waiting two hours. I fear I will not be able to keep them downstairs much longer."

"Why didn't you tell me they were here?" Daniel asked his mother with irritation and then glanced back to the door as the butler cleared his throat.

Once the man had his attention, the butler allowed the corners of his mouth to curve just the slightest bit before getting his face under control and back to the expressionless visage of a proper butler as he said, "It is good to see you awake and recovering, my lord. We have all been quite worried since Mr. Lawrence brought you home."

"Thank you, Watkins," Daniel murmured, and then cleared his throat and asked, "Are Richard and Langley alone?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Thank God," he muttered, sitting up again. This time his mother did not try to stop him and he said, "Please, send them up."

"Daniel. Please explain what you have been up to and why this young lady you are to marry thinks you are poor, when you have worked so hard these last ten years to ensure we are not. None of this is making sense."

He grimaced. "It's really a quite convoluted story, Mother."

"I don't care. I have time."

"Yes, but--" Fortunately, Daniel was saved from trying to put her off further by the arrival of Richard and Robert. The two men must have jogged up the stairs to arrive so quickly. They didn't bother to knock, but strode right into the room, both looking quite grim faced and even angry until they got a look at him.

"What the devil happened to you?" Richard asked with amazement as he led Robert to the bed.

"I was shot," Daniel said.

Richard frowned, but Robert snapped, "It was probably the Fates punishing you."

"Punishing me for what?" he asked with surprise.

"For breaking Suzette's heart," he growled. "She was crushed when she got your letter."

"What letter?" Daniel asked, glancing from one man to the other with confusion.

"The letter you left saying you had changed your mind," Robert answered, but was starting to sound a little less angry. His expression turning uncertain, he asked, "You did send a letter to the inn for Suzette saying you were breaking it off and wouldn't marry her?"

Daniel shook his head firmly. "I never sent any such letter."

When Robert and Richard just stared at him blankly, Daniel's mother said, "I can assure you he left no such letter. He has just told me he'd come to collect me to attend his wedding and has been trying to get up to return to the inn almost since he awoke. He appears quite eager to marry the young woman."

"Hmm," Richard muttered, his expression troubled as he glanced to Robert.

"I think someone had best start explaining things," Lady Woodrow said firmly. "I hardly think it was an accident that this young lady received a letter breaking the engagement and my son was shot, all at the same time. There must be some connection."

Chapter Twelve

For one blessed moment when she first woke, Suzette didn't recall anything, but then she became aware of her sore throat and gritty eyes, and recalled crying herself to sleep and why, and a small pitiful sigh slid from her lips as memory came crashing in. She was a fallen woman, abandoned on the morning of her wedding and left sullied and unmarriageable. At least, most men would think so.

"You're awake."

Suzette stilled and glanced to the girl who had apparently been seated by the fireplace. Lisa. She was standing now and moving toward her.

"How do you feel?"

Suzette shrugged and sat up, avoiding her gaze as she did, but then she asked, "I suppose you hate me too?"

"No, of course not, and neither does Christiana," Lisa said at once, hurrying the last few feet to sit on the bed next to her. "You ordered her from the room before she could say anything. She isn't angry with you. She understands. You love Daniel and wanted to express that physically. It's natural."

"I don't love him," Suzette muttered.

Lisa looked at her with patent disbelief. "Suzette, y

ou have been following the man around like a puppy for days now. And if you do not love him, you are certainly doing a very good impression of heartbreak."

Frowning, Suzette lowered her head. She was sure she didn't love him. She couldn't. And yet the pain when she'd read the letter, the ache in her chest just at the thought of never seeing him again, the anguish as she'd wept . . .

"You love him," Lisa said quietly. "I know you. You have probably been telling yourself it was just convenience, and handy that the two of you had needs that fit each other, one needing a bride with a dower, the other needing a husband in need of a dower . . ." She shook her head. "But your eyes lit up every time he walked into the room and you hung on his every word. And the passion you felt and shared with him . . ." She shrugged. "That is love. You do love him."

"For all the good it does me," she muttered with disgust.

"Oh," Lisa hugged her tightly. "I felt sure he loved you too, Suzette. Maybe he is just afraid--or something. Maybe--"

"Maybe my loose behavior disgusted him," she said dryly. "Maybe he fears I am like this with every man."

"Oh, I am sure that is not true," she said, her expression troubled. "He would have to know it was your first time. The streams of blood and horrible pain would have--"

"There were no streams of blood or horrible pain," Suzette said unhappily. "In fact, there was hardly any pain. A little pinch perhaps, and an uncomfortable stretching sensation and that is all. As for streams of blood . . ." She shook her head. In truth, she wasn't sure if there had been any blood at all. It had been dark in the stables. Certainly there hadn't been streams of it. That would have been noticeable.

"Oh." Lisa bit her lip. "It was your first time?"

Her head snapped up, eyes stabbing her sister.

"Of course it was," Lisa backtracked at once, and then said, "Well, Fanny must have been wrong then. Or perhaps it is different for everyone."

Suzette shook her head with disgust. "If you, who have known me all my life and know I have not been keeping company with men before this, doubts me, why would he not? He probably thinks I have been with half the royal navy."

"Why would he think that? We live nowhere near the coast," Lisa said with confusion.

Suzette glared at her and then shifted to get off the bed, crawling around her to do so.