“What? You—”

“Now hear me out before you protest,” Daniel insisted, and then explained, “The girls have already seen that ‘Dicky’ is gone and so believe you are you . . . which of course you are. They also know the bed is now in ruins thanks to the ice they packed around who they thought was you. So, we dump him back in the bed, you keep the windows open to cool the room, and then lock off the doors and keep the keys. Then you say you have ordered a bed to replace the ruined one and that no one should bother entering the room until it arrives and the chamber can be set to rights.” He sat back with satisfaction before adding, “That way he is close at hand if we need him for proof of anything, and yet out of the way of being found.”

“I suppose that could work,” Richard said thoughtfully.

“It will,” Daniel assured him. “The only real problem I see is getting him out of here and back to your townhouse in broad daylight.” When Richard raised his head at the suggestion, he said, “He has to be moved soon. One of the servants might decide to take a turn around the gardens and stumble upon him before the day is out.”

“Damn.” They had to move the body and quickly, but the question was how did one move a body about in broad daylight without anyone knowing it was a body? He lowered his head to consider the problem, his eyes staring blindly at his own feet briefly before they focused on the patterned rug under them.

Smiling, he raised his head. “You don’t happen to have an old rug you don’t mind getting rid of?”

The sound of the door opening and closing stirred Christiana from sleep and she rolled over in bed to peer toward it, coming more awake when she saw Grace crossing the room toward her.

“Lord Langley is here and asking to see you,” the maid said solemnly.

Christiana stiffened where she lay and then cast a quick glance to the other side of the bed to see that Richard was no longer there.

“He left nearly an hour ago,” Grace announced as she gathered a fresh gown for her to wear.

“Oh,” Christiana murmured, immediately assaulted by a variety of emotions. Not one of them good. Dawn was casting a harsh light on the situation at hand and forcing her to acknowledge that she had consummated the wedding with her husband, who may or may not be her husband, because she still was not sure if it was actually a birthmark on his behind that she’d glimpsed. Brilliant.

Worse than all of that, though, was that while she was now sober, lying alone in her bed with Grace there looking so grim, and the light of day shining through the windows and spotlighting her in her shame, had she woken natural y and alone with Richard, Christiana knew she might very well have merely rolled over, cuddled up close and begun to kiss and caress him awake to initiate another round of the consummation. It was how he’d woken her several times in the night and her body wanted it again even now. Just the thought of it was making her breasts tighten with desire. What they’d done had been that delicious, the excitement and pleasure he had shown her that addictive.