He grimaced. “It’s really a quite convoluted story, Mother.”

“I don’t care. I have time.”

“Yes, but—” Fortunately, Daniel was saved from trying to put her off further by the arrival of Richard and Robert. The two men must have jogged up the stairs to arrive so quickly. They didn’t bother to knock, but strode right into the room, both looking quite grim faced and even angry until they got a look at him.

“What the devil happened to you?” Richard asked with amazement as he led Robert to the bed.

“I was shot,” Daniel said.

Richard frowned, but Robert snapped, “It was probably the Fates punishing you.”

“Punishing me for what?” he asked with surprise.

“For breaking Suzette’s heart,” he growled. “She was crushed when she got your letter.”

“What letter?” Daniel asked, glancing from one man to the other with confusion.

“The letter you left saying you had changed your mind,” Robert answered, but was starting to sound a little less angry. His expression turning uncertain, he asked, “You did send a letter to the inn for Suzette saying you were breaking it off and wouldn’t marry her?”

Daniel shook his head firmly. “I never sent any such letter.”

When Robert and Richard just stared at him blankly, Daniel’s mother said, “I can assure you he left no such letter. He has just told me he’d come to collect me to attend his wedding and has been trying to get up to return to the inn almost since he awoke. He appears quite eager to marry the young woman.”

“Hmm,” Richard muttered, his expression troubled as he glanced to Robert.

“I think someone had best start explaining things,” Lady Woodrow said firmly. “I hardly think it was an accident that this young lady received a letter breaking the engagement and my son was shot, all at the same time. There must be some connection.”

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

For one blessed moment when she first woke, Suzette didn’t recall anything, but then she became aware of her sore throat and gritty eyes, and recalled crying herself to sleep and why, and a small pitiful sigh slid from her lips as memory came crashing in. She was a fallen woman, abandoned on the morning of her wedding and left sullied and unmarriageable. At least, most men would think so.

“You’re awake.”

Suzette stilled and glanced to the girl who had apparently been seated by the fireplace. Lisa. She was standing now and moving toward her.

“How do you feel?”

Suzette shrugged and sat up, avoiding her gaze as she did, but then she asked, “I suppose you hate me too?”