“That may not be true,” Christiana said quietly. “He may not have gambled at all .”

“What?” Suzette glanced at her sharply.

“Richard said there are rumors that Dicky had befriended a certain owner of a gaming hell reputed to drug its patrons and fleece them. He suspects it’s possible that is what happened to Father.”

Suzette’s breath left her on a whoosh, making Christiana’s eyebrows raise. Before she could ask what had caused it, Suzette said, “When we found him at the townhouse, Father kept saying he was sorry, and he didn’t know how it had happened, that his memories were a jumble and he didn’t even recall how he’d ended up at the gaming hell, just waking up there both times to learn he’d gambled us into ruin.”

Christiana sighed. “He probably didn’t gamble at all .”

“Oh God,” Suzette moaned and dropped back against the chair unhappily. “I was so cruel to him the morning we arrived in London. I said some awful things.”

“It is understandable under the circumstances,” Christiana said quietly. “How were you to know Dicky may have drugged him to bring about his downfall ?”

“Damn Dicky,” Suzette burst out furiously, sitting upright again. “If he weren’t already dead, I think I’d kill him myself.”

“Hmm,” Christiana murmured, and then bit her lip and pointed out, “Although, if it weren’t for Dicky and what he’d got up to I wouldn’t now be married to Richard and you might never have met and proposed to Daniel.”

“That’s true.” Suzette frowned, some of her anger easing from her expression, and then she glanced to Christiana and asked, “So you are content with Richard?”

“I think we might have a good marriage,” she said cautiously, and much to her surprise Suzette snorted at the tame words.

“Oh, give over,” she said with disgust. “A good marriage? I’ve heard the moaning and groaning coming from your room, both the night Dicky died and last night as well. Oh Richard, oh . . . oh . . . yes . . . ooooooh,” she mimicked with amusement. “Then you scream like you’re fit to die.”

Christiana blushed furiously. “You could hear us?”

“I’m sure the whole house can hear you,” she said dryly. “He roars like a lion, and you squeal like a stuck pig.” She paused and then added thoughtfully,

“Which I suppose is an apt description from what I read in Fanny’s book. Did it hurt very much the first time he stuck his maypole in your tender parts?”

“His maypole?” Christiana gasped with disbelief.

“That’s what Fanny called it. Well one of the things,” she added thoughtfully, and then repeated, “Did it hurt?”

Christiana groaned and covered her face, mortified by the entire conversation.

“Well?” Suzette persisted.

“A little perhaps,” Christiana said finally, forcing her hands away and straightening in her seat.

“Hmm, Fanny fainted from the pain,” Suzette muttered. “And there was a great deal of blood, which suggests pain as well.”

Christiana grimaced and decided a change of subject was in order. “Anyway, what happens in the bedroom is only a portion of marriage, Suzette. I must deal with him out of the bedroom as well and begin to think I may be able to.”