brain for some way to delay the women from seeking their beds. Preferably something that would take them downstairs and give Daniel the chance to slip out of the house with George. The best he could come up with was, "Might I convince you both to join me in my office for a drink before you retire?"
"No, thank you," Lisa said stiffly as they approached. Suzette didn't even bother with a refusal, she merely snorted with disgust as she started past him, heading for the door to the room he'd just exited.
"I need to talk to you," he said desperately, catching at Suzette's arm to bring her to a halt. When she turned angry eyes his way and glared at the hand on her arm, he released her. "I realize I've been a bit of an ass to your sister - "
"A bit?" Suzette asked dryly.
"Al right, a lot of an ass," Richard acknowledged and wished he knew exactly what George had done. "The point is, my brush with death tonight has awakened me to what is important in this life, and I would dearly like to make it up to Christiana and, if possible, mend our relationship. I was hoping you could advise me on how to do that."
He had thought it an inspired ruse, and one that wasn't entirely a ruse real y. If he was going to step back into his life as it now was and keep Christiana for a wife, he needed to repair the damage George had done. Of course, there was stil the smal matter of who had poisoned George. If Christiana was the culprit, it was a matter that would have to be dealt with. However, his main concern at the moment was getting her sisters out of that hal way long enough for Daniel to escape.
"Are you sincere about this?" Lisa asked quietly.
"Of course he isn't," Suzette said with irritation. "A leopard does not change its spots."
"He changed his spots going from nice to nasty after marrying Christiana," Lisa pointed out. "Perhaps he can change again."
"That wasn't changing his spots," Suzette assured her. "Those spots were fake ones he'd painted on to get her to marry him so that he could get his hands on her dower. He just washed them off once he'd accomplished that and reverted to his true, nasty nature."
"I'm very wealthy, ladies," Richard said quietly. "I had no need to marry Christiana for money."
Suzette's eyes narrowed. "Then why did you marry her?"
That one stumped him. How could he answer that? He suspected George had married Christiana for her dower and he himself hadn't married her at al . Final y, he simply said, "I care about Christiana and her happiness." Which was true. He did care. He didn't want to see her suffering for his brother's actions. However, Suzette didn't look impressed, so he continued, "My behavior this last year is a direct result of what happened with my brother. I - "
of what happened with my brother. I - "
"Oh," Lisa breathed, sudden understanding dawning on her face. "Of course."
"Of course what?" Suzette asked suspiciously.
"Don't you see, Suzette?" Lisa peered at Richard with pity and understanding.
"No doubt in his heart of hearts he has always felt guilty for surviving the fire that kil ed his brother."
Richard managed not to grimace. He doubted George had felt a moment's guilt over hiring men to kil him.
"Meeting and fal ing in love with Chrissy must have been a balm to his wounded soul," Lisa continued in earnest tones. "But then they married and moved here, living just up the street from the charred remains of the townhouse where his poor brother died. It must be a daily reminder of his death. His guilt would have returned and trebled, because he was no longer experiencing just the guilt of surviving while his brother didn't, but now also for finding a love and happiness his poor dead brother would never have." She peered at Richard with big, wet eyes. "His soul tortured, his spirit wounded, he lashed out at Chrissy, the woman he loved, destroying her love and their relationship out of the guilt consuming him."
Richard stared at the young woman wide-eyed. So much dramatic drivel out of the simple comment that his behavior was a result of what had happened with his brother was just astonishing to him. The girl should write fiction, he thought, and then noticed that Suzette's expression had softened just a little, some of her suspicion