“Are you all right, my lord?”

Richard glanced around at that alarmed question and sighed when he spotted his driver just reaching and kneeling beside him. Nodding, he rolled onto his back to sit up, and then glanced toward Daniel, who was as of yet unmoving.

“Woodrow?” he asked with a frown.

Daniel groaned and pushed himself to a sitting position, but said, “Yes. Thanks to you.”

“It was a yellow bounder, my lord,” the Radnor driver said grimly, glaring in the direction the post chaise had gone. “Probably rented. The postillion didn’t even try to steer clear of ye. In fact, it looked almost like he was aiming for the two of ye.”

Richard grunted at the man’s words, suspecting he was right. George had been murdered after all and they had expected the murderer to try again. He definitely had to be more careful in future.

Richard got to his feet even as Daniel did and then paused to brush down his clothes, frowning when something dripped down the side of his forehead.

“You’re bleeding,” Daniel said quietly. “You must have knocked your head as we fell.”

Richard raised a hand to his forehead, grimacing when he felt the scrape there. Sighing, he wiped the blood away and started toward the carriage.

Daniel and the driver followed.

“Where to now, my lord?” the driver asked solemnly as he held the carriage door for Richard and Daniel to get in.

“Home,” Richard answered abruptly as he settled back in his seat.

Nodding, the man closed the door.

“What are we going to do now?” Daniel asked as he settled across from him.

“Find out who wants the Earl of Radnor dead, and fast. I should like to accomplish it before Christiana is made a widow . . . again.”

“This is a waste of time,” Suzette hissed with frustration as Christiana led her from the guest bedroom Robert and Daniel had shared the night before.

They had gone there to have a little chat with the upstairs maid who had been making the bed and cleaning the room. The problem was that was all it had been, a chat, Christiana acknowledged. They could hardly ask flat out if she had been paid to poison George’s whiskey. They didn’t want everyone on staff to know about George’s attempt to kill Richard, his stint as his imposter and that George was now dead . . . again. That being the case, they couldn’t ask much of anything useful really, and instead had been forced to ask each person general questions about how long they’d worked for Lord Fairgrave and where they’d worked previously, what their family situation was like and so on.

“It isn’t a complete waste of time,” she assured Suzette. “I am pretty sure we can cross most of the staff we’ve talked to off the list of suspects, and that is a good thing.”

Suzette sighed with exasperation. “Why am I not surprised you are looking at the bright side?”