Christiana had been building up a nice head of steam as she crossed the room to stand before him, but stopped now as she got a good look at the man she was berating.

Dicky was leaning back in the chair, eyes closed and fingers resting on his chest as if he’d meant to loosen his cravat but had dropped off before he could. No doubt Dicky had nodded off after returning here on escaping Suzette’s “nattering,” she thought grimly.

And the liquor probably didn’t help, Christiana decided as her gaze shifted to the empty glass next to the half-empty bottle of amber liquid on the table beside him. She recognized the carafe, it was very fine, very expensive whiskey that he usually only opened when celebrating something.

Wondering what on earth he could have to celebrate, Christiana bent to shake his shoulder. “Dicky, you—Oh!” she gasped and leapt back when he suddenly slid from his seat and landed in a heap on the floor. Christiana was about to bend down and rouse him from his stupor when a rustling from the door drew her attention to the fact that Suzette and Lisa had followed and now stood in the open door.

Suzette peered at Dicky and then raised her gaze to Christiana and said wryly, “I thought you were just teasing when you said you’d kill him.”

“Very funny,” Christiana muttered, not appreciating her sister’s sense of humor. “He’s drunk. Close the door before one of the servants sees the state he’s in.”

“Does he often drink this early?” Suzette asked, crossing the room to join her as Lisa quickly closed the door.

“Not this early, no,” Christiana admitted. “But he does start earlier than he should and drink more than he should on a regular basis. It’s given me hope that he’ll fall down the stairs and make me a widow sooner rather than later,” she added dryly and then grimaced, knowing how bitter and unkind the thought was.

“I think he has,” Lisa said quietly as she joined them around Dicky’s prostrate form. “Made you a widow I mean. I don’t think he’s breathing, Chrissy.”

Christiana glanced doubtfully back to Dicky. He’d slid onto his knees, and slumped forward over them so that his head landed on the rug in front of the fireplace. While it didn’t appear that his back was moving or expanding with the inhalation of breath, it was hard to tell for sure with him crumpled the way he was.

Christiana knelt beside him and with a little help from Suzette managed to lay him out on his back. They then both stared at his chest for a moment. It wasn’t moving. Hardly believing what she was seeing, Christiana leaned forward to rest her ear above his heart. There was no steady thump, no thump at all .

Eyes widening, she sat back on her haunches again and simply stared at the man, finding it hard to believe he was dead. Dicky just wasn’t thoughtful enough to do something so kind.