"He's not dead," she pronounced quietly.

"Ooo, I did think 'e was, Mister Timson," the potboy wailed, stepping out of the footman's reach. " 'Onest to God, I thought 'e was. It weren't no trick, mister."

"Scarper!" Timson ordered, raising a threatening hand. The lad scarpered.

"It's a death sleep," Gertrude pronounced in a voice full of doom. "I've seen 'em like that afore. Sleep like death, then off they goes, sliding into God's 'ands." She wiped her eyes with her apron. "Poor Mister Edgar. Such a good man, 'e was. Lady Ariel'll be beside 'erself."

Edgar twitched and a small popping sound came from between his closed lips.

"Death sleep or not, looks to me like 'e's wakin' from it," Timson observed. The tankard by the wall caught his eye, and he picked it up, sniffing judiciously. "Dipped a bit deep in the blackstrap, if you asks me. Powerful stuff'tis."

"May I see?" Jenny held out her hand for the tankard. She smelled it, then ran a finger over the drops clinging to the sides and licked it. She frowned but said nothing, merely placed the tankard on the floor and bent over Edgar again.

"Edgar? Can you hear me, Edgar?" She spoke softly but insistently. The man's eyelids fluttered, he lifted one hand from the cot, laboriously as if it weighed a ton and he was having to move it through treacle, and touched his mouth.

His eyes opened. His bewildered gaze fell on Jenny and a stricken look crossed his befogged eyes. "Oh, Miss Jenny, I were comin' to fetch you, weren't I? What time is it?"

"Close on eight," Jenny replied. "Lie back for a few more minutes, Edgar. You'll feel stronger shortly. Perhaps if you had some strong tea…?" She looked inquiringly at Gertrude.

"I'll send one o' the girls out wi' the tea," Gertrude said. "Anythin' else you'd be wantin'?"

Edgar shook his head and Gertrude went off. Edgar sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the cot. The ground rushed up to meet him and with a groan he dropped his head onto his knees.

" 'Ad a bit too much o' the blackstrap, Edgar," Timson opined jovially. "Gets to us all sometimes, but I never figured you fer a serious drinkin' man."

Edgar raised his head cautiously. He blinked around the tack room. "I'm not." He shook his head. "Lad brought me a tankard last even, after I'd seen to the 'osses. Wi' compliments of the earl of 'Awkesmoor, 'e said."

Jenny picked up the tankard again. "Lord Hawkesmoor sent you the drink?"

"Aye. An' right good it was, though powerful strong. Must 'ave gone to me 'ead."

"I expect that was it," Jenny said. "If you think you'll be all right now, I'll go inside and see Lady Ariel. I'll come back afterward."

"Aye, an' I'll be ready to take you 'ome whenever," Edgar said. " 'Ere, Timson, give me an 'and." He took the footman's proffered hand and staggered to his feet. "Gawd, I'd better see to the 'osses. Lady Ariel'll be wantin' to know 'ow the roan's doin'." Shaking his head, he stumbled slightly toward the door to the stables.

Early in the morning, Ariel's bedchamber had resembled market day in Cambridge as a stream of visitors inquired after her health. But at last she was left alone when the wedding guests set off for the day's sport.

A day of enforced idleness was not appealing, even though Ariel's physician self told her that it was as wise as it was necessary. She lay back against the pillows waiting for the skittering claws of the hounds in the corridor outside as Doris returned them from their morning's walk. Doris had taken them herself because Edgar would be out fetching Jenny.

Ariel sat up abruptly and looked at the clock. It was past eight. Edgar should have been back with Jenny long since.

The dogs yelped at the closed door even as she thought this. They burst into the chamber as Doris opened the door. "Mercy me, Lady Ariel, they've run me off me feet," she gasped, panting. " 'Ere's Miss Jenny, come to see 'ow y'are."

"Thank you for taking the dogs, Doris." Ariel smiled warmly at the girl. "I was worried about you, Jenny." She reached out a hand to grasp Jenny's as the other woman stepped closer. "Surely Edgar didn't forget to come for you."

"Not exactly," Jenny said evasively, gesturing slightly toward Doris, who could be heard setting the room to rights behind her. "How are you feeling this morning?" She placed a cool hand on Ariel's brow. "The fever's broken, then?"

"Yes, sometime in the night." Ariel opened her shift so that Jenny could listen to her chest. "I sweated rivers, it was quite disgusting. Poor Simon was constantly having to change the linen."

"He proved a good nurse, then?" Jenny inquired in an oddly flat voice.

"Surprisingly so." Simon's dry answer from the door made Jenny jump with a startled little gasp.

But she recovered quickly, beginning to palpate Ariel's throat as she responded neutrally, "Good morning, my lord."

"Good morning, Jenny. What's your opinion of the patient?"

"Better. Is your throat sore, Ariel?"

"Very."

"We should wrap it in hot flannel." She turned to address Doris. "Run down to the kitchen, Doris, and ask Mistress Gertrude to heat strips of flannel in the bread oven."

"Yes, miss." Doris hustled past the earl, who still stood in the doorway. Doris didn't notice the rather puzzled frown in his eyes.

Jenny seemed to be avoiding conversation with him. When he stepped closer to the bed, she jerked sideways, tension rippling through her thin frame. What on earth was the matter with the woman?

"Well, I'll leave you to your ministrations," he said, hearing the shade of awkwardness in his voice. "I'm sure she's in better hands than mine, Jenny."

Jenny didn't respond, seemed to be concentrating all her attention on taking Ariel's pulse.

"Enjoy the stag hunt, my lord," Ariel said. "I wish I was coming with you."

"Well, you can't," he stated, bending to kiss her. "You'll stay in bed wrapped in hot flannel, and I'll join you for dinner by the fire.",

When the door had closed behind him, Ariel said swiftly, "What happened with Edgar?"

Jenny sat on the edge of the bed. "Apparently he drank deep of a powerful mixture of blackstrap last night and overslept."

"What do you mean, apparently?" Ariel never missed a trick.

Jenny bit her lip. "There was more than October ale and apple brandy in the tankard, Ariel."

"Oh?" Ariel sat up, an intent look in her widened eyes.

"Verbenum, certainly, and maybe belladonna. And I could definitely taste celandine."

"Oh." Ariel stared at Jenny. "You're saying the blackstrap was drugged?"

Jenny shrugged. "There were only a few drops left. I could be wrong."

"No, you couldn't," Ariel said flatly. "Where is Edgar now?

"Checking on the horses."

Ariel felt the dread start from a pinprick somewhere in her chest and expand like a swelling balloon until it seemed to fill the whole cavity of her rib cage. She gazed in silent horror at Jenny's still figure beside her.

The two women waited in silence. Waited for what they both knew they were about to hear.

When Edgar entered the room a few minutes later, his face deathly white, his mouth and nostrils pinched, Ariel forestalled him. "What have we lost?"

"The mare in foal." He stood helplessly, wringing his hands. "I can't believe it 'appened. I can't believe I could 'ave drunk meself silly, but… but I did." A wail of anguish broke from him and his shoulders hunched. "I'll leave right away, m'lady. I wish I could do somethin' to show 'ow sorry I am, but-"

"There's no need to flay yourself, Edgar," Ariel broke in briskly. "It wasn't your fault. The blackstrap you drank was drugged. Jenny tasted it."

"Drugged?" Edgars shoulders snapped straight again and his eyes were suddenly wrathful, all anguish, remorse, and guilt banished. "Someone wanted me out of the way."

Ariel flung back the bedclothes as if they were stifling her, impeding her thought processes. "Ranulf," she stated.

Edgar's gaze shifted abruptly. He cast a glance to where Jenny now stood beside the bed, her face closed as granite. He cleared his throat. "The tankard, m'lady, it didn't… didn't come…" His voice faded.

Jenny picked up the thread, her voice cool and resolute. "Edgar told me earlier that the ale had been sent him by the earl of Hawkesmoor."

"The lad what brought it, m'lady, said 'is lordship sent it with 'is thanks. I thought because of lookin' after the roan." Edgar fell silent again, unable to look at the white face in the bed.

Simon? Simon had drugged Edgar and then staged a raid on the Arabians? Simon knew she bred them. As an experienced horseman, he would have seen that they were fine specimens. He had a perfect hiding place on his own estates, easily reached by barge along the rivers and drainage cuts crossing the fens. Could he have seen what a gold mine she had in her stables? Had he assumed that a naive young woman wouldn't realize how lucrative her hobby could be? Had he acted accordingly? Simon? How could it be possible? It wasn't possible.

"Which of the lads brought you the ale, Edgar?" She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, reaching for a wrap lying over the end rail.

"I didn't know 'im, ma'am." Edgar shuffled his feet uncomfortably, staring fixedly out of the window beyond the bed. In his shock and guilt, he had rushed in on Lady Ariel in her bedchamber without giving a thought to the intimacy of the surroundings. The sight of his lady sitting on the edge of the bed in her shift, swinging her bare legs, flooded him with embarrassment.

"You think he's not one of ours?" She thrust her arms into the sleeves of the wrapper, unaware of Edgar's discomfiture.

"Mebbe, m'lady. Mebbe 'e's new an' I 'adn't seen 'im afore."

"Go down to the kitchen and ask around," Ariel instructed as briskly as before. "Find out who knows him, where he comes from. And then find him. I'm going down to the stables to check on the others."

"Right y'are, m'lady." Edgar went eagerly to the door. "The roan's doin' fine this mornin'. Wounds closin' over nicely an' she 'ad some bran mash."

"Good." Ariel slipped from the bed and stood up gingerly, assessing her strength with a critical frown. "Go now, Edgar."

The man left and Ariel began to pace the bedchamber. "I don't believe Simon could have stolen the mare." "He had the opportunity," Jenny pointed out.

"Yes, but I don't believe he would do anything so underhanded. It's much more likely to have been Ranulf. He's been making inquiries, and Edgar told me he was livid when I shipped the colt out. He must have some inside information and he heard that I had a buyer for the mare."

In other circumstances it would have made Jenny smile to hear Ariel championing a Hawkesmoor-a man whom she would once have believed capable of any despicable act, a man whom a few short days ago she would have cheerfully pitchforked into the pits of hell.

"Well, whether it was your brother or not, I don't think you're going to do yourself or anyone else any good if you go out again in the cold, Ariel," she said practically.

"No." Ariel flopped down in the rocker, drawing the folds of the wrapper tightly around her. "You're right, I'm not." She bit a fingernail, tearing it off with a snap. She was going to have to move fast now. Ranulf would not stop at the mare.

Chapter Seventeen

Ranulf had a more than usually self-satisfied air, Simon thought, as the earl of Ravenspeare turned his horse toward the drawbridge and led the hunt clattering out of the castle, over the moat.

Simon rode up alongside his brother-in-law and offered a comment on the day's expectations.

"We should see good sport if Ralph has done his work," Ranulf replied. He cast a darkling look at his young brother riding just behind him. The younger man flushed.

"I can't be responsible for inept hunters. I've instructed the beaters and made sure the woods are well stocked. What more can I do?"

Ranulf didn't answer. "Do you intend to go to court when you leave us, Hawkesmoor?" His voice was pleasant, as if he was having the conversation with an amiable acquaintance. "You have the duchess of Marlborough's patronage, as I understand it."

"Sarah and I have a shared interest," Simon responded. "We're both deeply concerned for the health and welfare of her husband."

"Ah, yes, our valiant John, duke of Marlborough." Roland's tone, unlike his brother's, was caustic. "I've heard it said that Queen Anne grows a little impatient with her hero."