Suzette stared at her father, wondering when they had learned that. Obviously, it must have been discovered while she had been in the parlor with Lisa. What else had she missed? She frowned slightly and recalled that Daniel never had got around to telling her who had poisoned George. Not that she’d thought to ask him again. Cold as it was to admit, she was just glad the man was dead, doubly so now if he had planned to force her into an unwanted marriage too. Really, the only regret she had about Dicky’s death was that she wished he’d suffered more.

“I have no idea what Dicky’s motives were,” Jeremy muttered. “And it was just happenstance that I arrived when I did. A happy coincidence that I ran into Suzette and heard her troubled tale.”

He smiled at Suzette, but she didn’t smile back. Her father’s questions had drawn her far enough out of her self-pity so that her brain was starting to think again for the first time since receiving Daniel’s letter.

“The only thing we know about this friend of Dicky’s is that he is called ‘Twiddly,’ ” her father announced, and stared meaningfully at Jeremy’s hands, which had suddenly stilled mid twiddle. Mouth tightening, he accused, “You are the friend of Dicky’s who planned to marry my Suzette. You were in on the scheme from the start, and the happy coincidence of your arriving just as the letter did tends to make me wonder if Daniel wrote it at all.”

Suzette stiffened at the suggestion. He had her full attention now.

Cedrick Madison set his cane aside and turned to her to take her hands as he pointed out, “Daniel was damned eager to marry you, girl. He even asked me not to tell you about my selling the townhouse so that you wouldn’t think you no longer had to marry.”

“And you agreed to that?” she asked with amazement.

He shrugged. “You can be a stubborn girl, Suzette. And sometimes you are your own worst enemy. I had no trouble believing that you might avoid marrying him out of fear. But it was obvious to me that you both loved each other.”

“You think he loved me?” she asked in a small voice, afraid to hope.

“I’m sure of it,” he said solemnly, and then added, “No man would put up with your nonsense if he didn’t love you.”

Suzette frowned slightly at the backhanded compliment.

“But whether he did or not, Woodrow is too honorable to have his way with you and then take a runner,” her father continued grimly. “Besides, he didn’t seem to me to be a coward who would give such news in a cold letter. There is something wrong here. I think we should return to the inn and wait to hear about Daniel.”