Richard almost piped up to say that they had got George out without discovery, but then realized that wasn’t true. Daniel had been caught in Suzette’s room by Suzette, and he would have been caught there too had he not thrust the body at the man and rushed out to lead the women downstairs. He hardly could have done that were he a stranger to the house. Had he been a stranger, they both would have been caught in Suzette’s room. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been easy for an outsider to get the poison in undiscovered.

“So it is probably someone in the townhouse who did it,” Christiana followed her reasoning.

“Someone could have paid one of the servants to do it,” Suzette suggested.

There was silence as everyone contemplated that. It seemed the most likely scenario, but no one was eager to embrace it. Members of the ton depended on the steadfast loyalty of their servants. Without it the number of scandals made public would probably treble. Of course, it happened on occasion that a servant wasn’t as loyal as one would hope, but it was never something anyone wished to consider.

“I shall have to question the servants when we arrive back in London,” Richard said with a sigh, acknowledging that a betrayal by one of the staff was most likely what had happened.

“That leaves the blackmailer . . . if it isn’t the same person who paid someone on staff to administer the poison,” Lisa said.

“It is someone who knew what George did last year and that he took Richard’s place,” Christiana said, her expression thoughtful. “There can’t be many who know that. I hardly think he would trust that information to many people.”

“No,” Richard agreed, and asked, “Who among his friends do you think he would have trusted with the information?”

Christiana snorted at the question. “You are asking me? I daresay you would know that better than I. I haven’t even an idea who his friends were. No one ever came to call , and he certainly didn’t deign to tell me where he was going or with whom when he went out.”

“Do you have any idea, Daniel ?” Richard asked, glancing to his friend.

He shook his head. “I have been stuck at Woodrow since Uncle Henry died last year, trying to bring the estate back up to scratch. I only left because I received your letter from America. I didn’t even know you—or George pretending to be you—had married. I have no idea what he’s been up to this last year or with whom.”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult to find out,” Robert put in. “There’s nothing the ton loves more than a good gossip. A question here or there should tell us who George considered a trusted friend.”

“So we need to question the staff, as well as nose out any gossip we can about what George was up to this last year and with whom . . . and I need to make arrangements for the money.” Richard paused and glanced around the shadowed faces in the carriage. “Can anyone think of anything else we might do to solve matters?”