The Mad Earl
“It’s not safe, Mouse! I might hurt you.” Michael whispered harshly.
“What makes you say that?”
“I’ve hurt people before. People I’ve cared about, people I’ve sworn to protect. It’s not safe for you here.”
Mouse smiled slightly. “I don’t see how you could hurt me, all trussed up like that.” She nodded towards the bindings around his wrists and ankles that were securing him to the bed.
“I don’t mean just now, tonight. I mean in this house, being married to me! You need to get away Mouse, for your own safety!”
“So, being married to you is a risk, then?”
“It isn’t a joking matter! I’ve already killed once...”

“Do you understand the terms of the charges, Lord Winningham?” The man’s deep, resonant tones cut into the silence of the room.
Michael Kelton, the fifth Earl of Winningham, lifted his gaze from the floor for the first time since the proceedings had begun. With unrelenting expressions four men stared down at him. Three of them were generals who’d commanded Michael during the torturous months he’d served his country fighting the war in Spain. The fourth was a lord from Parliament.
“I do,” he said quietly, looking away from the stern faces that studied him.
“So you tell us,” Lord Kensington noted. A general of a different sort, his part in the war effort was fought in the House of Lords using words to maim the enemy, much in the same way Michael had wielded his sword. Listening to the proceedings, Michael decided that the cut of his bayonet had been much cleaner.
“I have no evidence to prove my sanity, my lord.” Michael watched his judges for any sign of their understanding. There was none. He knew that any attempt at explanations would make little difference in the outcome of their decision. “The truth is that I cannot remember the events that occurred the day I was captured or many of the days that followed. I only learned later from my cousin that I was held for over a month and that I was in ill condition when I was found.”

“Can you recall anything from your confinement, Lord Winningham?” General Wexely asked, leaning forward in his seat.
“I remember being in a dark, damp underground cell.” Though Michael fought the images in his mind, the cool stench of decay remained with him always. When he closed his eyes he could still feel the promise of death from that place. “They gave me foul tasting concoctions, tainted water, and stale bread from time to time. I vaguely remember being questioned but I’ve no recall of how I answered them. I suppose that’s enough to cast suspicion on me.”
“But,” General Wexely interjected, “is it enough to brand you a traitor?”
“I believe the question cannot be decided at the present time,” General Barton said. “We must therefore carry out the sentencing and pray to God that we are not wrong in our judgment.” He turned to the soldier standing guard. “Please bring in Mr. Kelton and the physician, Winthorp.”
Two men were ushered in. Michael tightened his fists, determined to keep his fear and dread at bay. I can do this! he reassured himself. Besides, what choice did he have? It was either accept what fate had given him, or know in his heart that he’d not done all he could for those that had died under him. In an odd way, accepting his punishment gave their deaths meaning. He did not die with them as he should have, but he would greatly suffer now. That knowledge helped to lessen his guilt in a small way.
“Mister Kelton,” General Wexely waved Michael’s fair-haired cousin forward. Standing side by side, it was clear that he and Ambray were a sharp contrast to each other. Michael sported a quieter, darker appearance. Ambray Kelton’s blond hair and fair complexion demonstrated his lighter, more outgoing personality.
“Yes, my Lord?” Ambray stepped up to the table, but not before bestowing a brave expression upon Michael.
“You have offered to see to the care of Lord Winningham from this day hence?”
“Yes, my lord. He and I were boyhood friends. We even served together for a time. I am very fond of my cousin and very saddened

by recent events. It is my hope that Michael’s malady is responsible for his behavior and not any defect in his character.”
“You need not try to defend Lord Winningham. This court has already decided upon his innocence, by way of insanity. It has been clearly demonstrated that Michael Kelton, the fifth Earl of Winningham, is no more responsible for himself than a suckling babe. Were it not so, this court would see to his immediate execution as a traitor. We do not believe that he could have purposefully given vital information to the enemy. As is given by various accountings, he was severely injured and prone to ‘fits’ of temperament. How his father was able to purchase his commission in the first place will be investigated with the War Office. But since the fourth Lord Winningham has died, there will be no use in pursing litigation to that extent.”
“Thank you, my lord. I promise to take care of my cousin, sir. I have hired an entire staff including a physician, Mr. Winthorp. He is a leading scholar in caring for the deranged. I assure you, Michael will receive every attention possible.”
Michael watched Ambray bow respectfully to the council and wrestled back the rising tide of anger that rose within him. It was galling to see Ambray play up to the men’s authority. He alone knew how his cousin despised any sort of propriety.
General Barton looked again to Michael. “This seems to satisfy all. A final word, gentlemen,” he nodded to his counterparts. “I had heard that your young wife suffered a terrible accident last month. Let me offer you my condolences.”
Michael stiffened at the mention of Katerina’s death. Every one of the ton sported the idea that he’d killed her. The accusation was written on the man’s features as clearly as his arrest ************************************************************ ****s had held the word ‘traitor’.
Ambray turned to them. “It was indeed a terrible accident,” he stated, his voice slightly higher pitched. “I was there. She’d been leaning on some railing that was in ill repair. My uncle, the old Lord Winningham, was quite the pinch a penny. He didn’t take proper care of the estate. We are all quite crushed by her death.”

The men at the table relented. Michael could feel the removal of their harsh stares as though a cloth had been lifted from his skin. Releasing a slow breath, he backed away from the table. Before he could turn to leave, an old familiar specter came to visit him.
On the far wall, a paraffin lamp sputtered. Without warning, Michael began to tremble uncontrollably. Paralyzed, he watched as the gutted flame burst into a thousand shards of light. The luminous knives stabbed his eyes and sent a furious path of pain through his mind so intense that he knew of nothing else but the sheer pain of the lamp’s assault. Though the agony of the attack was fierce, in seconds the radiance disappeared and stifling velvet of darkness threatened to over take him.
“No!” Michael cried out, but it was too late. He’d no control when the ‘fits’ overcame him. Tiny demons he’d once called them. Bits of darkness danced around his eyes twisting all of the concerned and shocked faces of the men around him. Ambray and another man stepped forward and tried to grab him, but Michael only backed away. Didn’t they know this was when he was the most dangerous?
A howling noise filled the room and Michael realized that it was his own voice screeching out. Falling onto the neatly polished table, he crashed into the furniture as uncounted hands struggled to restrain his convulsing body. His every muscle tensed into a solid mass of flesh. As the bone wrenching tremors came over him, the men of the courtroom did their best to restrain his flailing limbs. Frantic hands dug through his clothing and into his skin.
“Too late! Too late!” He yelled to them, but none of them made any effort to move away. He could see all the faces through the clouds of darkness that were gathering. It was Ambray, Lord Kensington, Winthorp, Lord Wexely, and two soldiers who joined the fray.
Michael wanted to yell more warnings, but Winthorp leaned forward jamming a piece of wood between his teeth, gagging him.
“What the devil are you doing?” Wexley’s voice called out.
“It’s a block to keep him from severing his tongue!” Ambray yelled.
The darkness gathered more force, quickly overcoming the men until each of their faces disappeared from his field of vision save

one—Ambray. Michael blinked and in a few seconds he was gone as well. Existing in a tunnel of pitch, Michael felt their voices growing more and more distant but he could still hear their words though they sounded more like whispers.
“The man truly is insane!” General Barton stated.
“Madness, clear and simple,” Wexely agreed.
“He should be locked up,” Kensington added, “away from decent society—before he injures someone!”
“I assure you,” Ambray’s voice cut in, “my cousin will receive every attention. Dr. Winthorp believes he can control these ‘fits’ with the right treatments. Michael may never be able to return to polite society but he will be cared for.”
Though Michael could not see, he knew the shapes of the men’s faces were a mixture of pity and disgust. Many times in his boyhood he’d witnessed the same reactions from the house staff and the neighbors. He’d once thought his malady had been left to his youth but since the battle in Spain his demons had returned. Michael didn’t begrudge the men their contempt. After all, wasn’t he both a traitor and a murderer? His madness seemed small compared to that.
As quickly as the spell had come upon him, it was gone. Only the darkness remained. Though there was no need, someone restrained his hands and ankles and wrapped him tightly in a wool blanket. He knew there would be a carriage outside waiting for him. Waiting to carry away the poor, mad earl. Michael cringed. After today, surely everyone would know. He was glad of the darkness. He wouldn’t have to look at their faces. He wouldn’t have to see the gaping stares as he was carried through the halls of Parliament and onto the street.
Just as Michael was about to be removed from the room, he sensed the presence of another nearby and felt the touch of warm breath upon his cheek. When the other spoke, the words were barely audible and brushed against Michael’s hearing.
“Don’t worry, son. This changes nothing. Our agreement still stands. We will proceed as planned.”
Michael wanted to protest, but the block in his mouth prevented him. Suddenly the hand was gone, and Michael was lifted and gently laid on a small, wheeled cart and carried from the room. He would have struggled, but exhaustion overcame him. Before they reached the outer doors, he fell into a deep, dark slumber.
~ * ~
Ambray watched silently as the orderlies loaded his cousin onto the ambulance. In minutes, Michael’s perfectly cut black waistcoat was now replaced with the rough, white wool of the straight waistcoat. Arms fastened behind him, the young man made no attempt at struggling now, instead he lay slack-jawed and silent. A small bit of drool leaked from the side the Earl’s mouth, leaving a glistening trail in its wake. Though his outward expression showed no sign of it, Ambray could barely contain his glee at seeing the Earl of Winningham carried away like a common Bedlam invalid.
“That was quite a display,” Winthorp remarked beside him. The tall, gangly physician’s attention focused on the prone man being placed in the carriage.
“Yes, it was. I was counting on Michael’s cooperation, of course, but nothing so dramatic as this. Once again, my cousin has aided in our efforts, eh, Winton?”
The physician nodded, smiling. The toothy grin gave an unnatural cast to the already gruesome appearance of Ambray’s accomplice. Winthorp’s face was pale and his cheekbones so sharp it made is eyes almost appear to pop out of his skull. No doubt he’d engaged in the heinous grave stealing that his colleagues vehemently denied, obtaining specimens to further their studies. Ambray could easily picture Winthorp in his fine, gray linen shirt and somber black trousers wearing an apron spattered with the blood of the too recent dead. The picture caused the usually callous Ambray to shudder. No matter, he recited to himself. He would have aligned himself with the devil if it furthered his own causes.
“Indeed, he has. Society will not spare the lash of their gossips now.” Winthorp picked at an invisible piece of lint on his vest.
“Too true. I almost feel pity for my cousin. Too bad about the will, though. Michael’s father made certain that he would have the last word. The old bastard is still controlling us from his grave.”

“What are you planning now? How can you possibly marry him off and have him produce an heir in so short a time? Surely no decent woman would come near him now?”
“No, that’s true enough. Perhaps if she were very naïve and very young.”
“Nonsense. I work with the elite. I can tell you, those chickens are raised to be carrion from the time they are out of the cradle.”
“Very well,” Ambray sighed. “Someone from the middle classes might do. She’ll have to have enough of the blue blood to maintain the pedigree but not so much that her family would get in the way of my plans. A simple girl, who would be so glad of a betrothal that she’d overlook the Earl’s less attractive features.”
“It should be no problem. My guess is there are plenty of those about. So, then you shall perhaps plant your own children, my man? Have your child carry on the title? That would be the ultimate raillery upon the old Earl, wouldn’t it?”
“Of course, besting the former earl is only part of my machinations. I want the title but there is much more to be gotten. Inside my cousin’s tortured mind there is a key that unlocks a much bigger chest than that of the peerage. No, he will bring me my fortune of wealth and more. Power. The most heady brew of them all.”
The carriage door closed now on the sleeping figure. One of the footmen approached him.
“The coach is ready, Mr. Kelton,” the servant stated, bowing his balding head slightly. “Will you be traveling with us, sir?”
As Ambray was about to answer, a flash of brassy, red hair across the street caught his attention. The petite figure of a woman wrapped in a bawdy lime-colored shawl, nodded in his direction. The high breasted, cinch-waisted gull was an old friend of his, back from his days of gambling houses and street politicos. Elsbeth Haversham.
Beside her stood another woman, whose slightly rounded figure draped in a stale brown dress did nothing to hide the voluptuousness of her shape. She made a sharp contrast to Elsbeth. Her curves were that of youth and innocence, and were even more pronounced in her round face and soft, gray eyes. Hers was not the classic beauty of the ton, but something far more fetching than the rail-thin women with

silk ruffles and tight corsets. This was a woman who was made to pleasure a man, all soft curves with no sharp edges to complete her duty.
“No,” Ambray told the driver. “I’ll be staying in town a bit. Mr. Winthorp will be accompanying my cousin back to the estate.”
The servant nodded and ambled back to the carriage. “Take care of him, Winton. I’ll see you again at the end of the week.”
“Ah. Brewing new plans for the unfortunate sod, are you, Kelton?”
Ambray only smiled in answer, waving his gloved hand toward the redhead across the street.
“Just considering my options.”
Winthorp nodded. “So long as you don’t forget our agreement. When you’re done with your manipulations, Winningham is mine.”
Ambray didn’t miss the deep tones of Winthorp’s voice. He looked up sharply at his compatriot, trying to discern just what it was that the physician had planned for his cousin. Was it merely for his scientific exploration of Michael’s malady as Winthorp professed? Or, were there other, darker plans in the works? The physician’s expression tightened, becoming almost unreadable. Perhaps it was just that Ambray chose not to look too closely at the other man’s intentions. Often times he’d noticed Winthorp’s study of his cousin to be more than a passing curiosity. He instinctively knew that the other man’s true intentions for Michael were the substance of nightmares, ones that he’d no desire to become familiar with.
“I’ve already told you, Win, once I extract the information I require, Michael is yours. You may take him to your sanitarium or hell itself if you wish. I will have all that I need by then.”
Ambray turned abruptly from the conversation. Swinging his walking stick, he began his journey across the busy street. As he reached the opposite side of the street, Elsbeth quickly dispatched her young companion to the nearest shop. She then whirled to Ambray, smiling fiercely and stirring up a windstorm with her pearl and lace fan. In her feral green eyes, Ambray saw the fox-like cunning which had long served to keep her off the streets of London and in the bedrooms of the city’s most influential patrons. Ah, but they didn’t realize that there were few equal to her feminine manipulations. Only he was a hound fierce enough to tame the beastly heart which beat within her very attractive chest.
“Ambray, my love,” she twittered as he finally reached the walkway. “It’s been an age since I’ve had the pleasure!” Her voice purred a low seductive thrum.
“Eslbeth, you’re as delightful as ever! What a treat you are to a poor, starving man.”
Elsbeth scoffed. “My love, you have never been poor or starving, if memory serves me. What brings you from your lumbering estate to mix with us stiff nosed, white-faced towners?”
Fishing for information, Ambray thought. Her smile was as painted on as cleverly as was her rouge. It didn’t matter. Ambray returned her smile, trying to mirror her false concern.
“I’ve come to see to the need of my poor, sick cousin. What a happy accident it is that you and I have met! Would you join me for a lemon ice? I believe I may have a business proposal that you’d be most interested in.”
“Really? I’m always interested in business, Ambray.”
“I’m counting on that, Elsbeth. What of your young friend?” He nodded to the young woman just visible beyond the window curtains. She was perusing the bookseller’s wares thoroughly.
“Not to worry. She’ll be there for hours.” Elsbeth slipped a white lace covered hand into the crook of his elbow. “Come, dear one, we’ve much to talk about. Old business and new.”

“Asphyxiation is a horrible death!” Miranda Ophelia Ulenia Suzanne Ellerton, otherwise known as ‘Mouse’ to her friends and loved ones, shouted at her maid Hattie.
“There you go again, Miss! Spouting them horrible words at me! Now, suck in!” Hattie retorted through gritted teeth, pulling with all her might on the corset strings of her slightly voluptuous charge.
“It means withholding one’s breath to the point of death, Hattie. You really should learn to read. Books are the most interesting things…” Mouse explained to her long time friend and servant.
“That’s the problem, Miss, too much reading and not enough moving about!”
“I hardly eat anything at all anymore, except that awful calf broth and sour milk. I just hate it! Deception is what it is, trying to make people think my dimensions are actually smaller than what they are. A woman shouldn’t have to do this!” She yanked fitfully at the thick, velvet fabric as it wound stubbornly about her waist, creeping upward and nearly strangling her in the process. Ladies’ fashion had moved towards the impossibly tight waistlines accented with layers of crinoline and bell shaped skirts, high, tight bodices and long, flowing skirts.
“But, ‘tis for a good cause, Miss. For getting married! Wouldn’t you like a beautiful wedding like your sister Merelda or a grand affair like Catalina? Eh? Your father was so proud of them! He’d be very happy if he were alive to be here for your wedding.” Hattie grew teary eyed when she spoke of the late Master Ellerton. He’d been a kind and generous employer with one small failing, that of spoiling his youngest daughter.

“Oh, don’t talk to me of father, or any man for that matter!” Mouse pulled the sparse lace up to cover her full bodice. She was certain her breasts would come popping out of the tight material at any second. Though it looked quite delicate, like most women’s clothing of the day, the garment had been sewn to especially torture the slightly overabundant figures of desperate old maids whose only hope in life was to catch the most prized beast of all, a husband. Every old maid except one nicknamed Mouse, who to that point in her long spinsterhood of nearly nineteen years had been most happy with her singular life.
“You mustn’t speak of your father so, Miss! He was a saint through and through.”
“Oh, quite the saint, I’m sure. He spent his vast wealth on his two spoiled older daughters, whilst stuffing his youngest with sweets and cakes until her figure was about to explode. He then squandered the remainder of his money on the brazen strumpet Miss Haversham, if that’s her real name. As if that weren’t the very worst of it, he dies and leaves his family in such dire circumstances that his daughters are forced into loveless marriages. I am afraid that is stretching the boundaries of sainthood quite a bit!”
“Aw, come now, Miss. Don’t be so bitter. After all, ‘tis not so bad. Marriage is the best place for a woman of station. And your father did marry the low class, um, Miss Haversham, didn’t he? He was an honest man whose only fault was loving his daughters a bit too much. Duped by the Mistress, to be sure, but even that’s no worse a crime. It’s not unheard of for a man to fall for a wandering skirt from time to time.”
Mouse let out the small remainder of breath she’d been holding, certain that the stays would not allow enough room for her to breathe a fraction of what was necessary to stay alive. Fine then, she thought, I’d rather just die here in the sanctuary of my own bedroom, than to be pressed into a hapless marriage.

“Still, I wish Father hadn’t been so impetuous. If only he’d told me sooner, I could have helped him with his accounting, I’m sure of it.”
“Pah, a pretty young thing like you, thinking of numbers. That’s a laugh. Now, let me arrange those wayward curls,” Hattie muttered, combs and ribbons already in her hands.
Sitting was near to disaster for Mouse, as she stiffly settled her corseted form into the dressing chair. It meant less room for her chest to intake precious air but at least it gave her a new torment to occupy her mind rather than the impending evening at the Winningham ball.
“I hate my hair, this dress, and my life!” Mouse moaned, watching in the looking glass as Hattie dutifully pulled back the tight ringlets of her tresses.
“Any woman would kill for curls such as these Miss! You hair is by far your best feature.”
“Nonsense, Hattie. I look like an old sow with a wig on a foul weather day.”
“Ah, Miss, you’re as lovely as the spring, only you don’t know it. You’ve got that fair, clear complexion and those striking gray eyes. When we’ve finished dressing you up for the party tonight, you’ll have many a young gent offering for you.”
“Like there are so many of those gents around! Most have gone off to war. Those that are left are either under sixteen or over seventy. Except for the infirm ones, men injured in some horrible battle or another. Poor creatures with half a leg, or no arms, or something dreadful like that.”
“Oh no, Miss. I’ve heard that there are some gentlemen home on leave for the holiday. And they are all officers of good families, I’m sure.”
Before Mouse could argue further, the door to her room burst open and two women came bustling in, their billowing skirts making an odd sort of music as they hurried across the room.
“Oh, Mousey!” Catalina crooned. “Don’t you look ravishing in that shade of green!” A hand shorter than Mouse, she’d stood up on toes to observe all the trappings of the ball gown. Six months gone with pregnancy, the middle sister of the Ellerton girls looked about to burst herself, wrapped in her pink and white satins.
Catalina’s arranged marriage had been to a flirtatious old duke, who had been reported at the time barely able to struggle out of his own bed. Since marriage two years before, it was clear that he was making the best of his predicament. Still, Cat seemed not to mind very much. She’d always wanted to be a mother, had dreamed of it, in fact. At the advanced age of twenty-two she was definitely getting her wish. She’d likely be in this condition every year for as long as it took old Throckmorton to kick over.
“You do look quite stuffed in that dress, Mouse. Are you sure you won’t fall over in a faint?” Merelda stated with a critical eye. Taller than both of her sisters, she had inherited the stately grace of their mother. A lean, athletic figure, she’d had the ability as a child to outrun and out wrestle most of the boys that visited them as children. Pushed into wedded bliss with a man just barely out of his knickers, six years her junior to be exact, she’d won the best match thus far, with Edmond Brockington the third, the soon to be Earl of Kerry. The twenty-four year old spinster had been happy enough to marry an impetuous brat who was so well known for his bawdy behavior that none but the desperate or depraved women would consider marriage to him. The promise of an earldom was heavy and Merry had been chosen above all others for the combination of her grace, beauty, and the ability to ignore the obvious.
“That’s the problem, Merry. I’m sure I shall faint! I don’t know what I should do! Elsbeth insists that I attend, or she’s going to withhold the key to the library for a month! If I can’t read my Ulysses, I shall go mad!”
Cat giggled. “You are the funny one, Mouse. You’d think that reading those tomes were the most important thing in the world. You’ll see once you get married that children are the only thing that matter.”
“So you are always saying, Cat,” Merry scoffed. “Even more important is one’s station in life. You must try to be an attentive wife, Mouse. That is, if you have a husband who manages to stay present long enough to be attentive to…” her voice trailed off.

“It’s all so unfair!” Mouse stated as she walked over to her ************************************************************ **** Pulling back the lace curtains she watched the carriage being pulled up to await her departure. “You’re saddled with a young snot, who hasn’t got the sense to carry water in a bucket, Merry. And there you are, Cat, as big as a pumpkin with that old druid’s brat. I don’t know how you tolerate it at all!” Mouse exclaimed, tears gathering in her eyes.
Both sisters jumped to her sides, each cradling her like they’d done when they were all much younger.
“There, there, Mousey,” Cat crooned, “It’ll be all right. I really am very happy with dear Arthur. He spoils me to no end, you know. Sure, he’s not young and handsome and dashing, but he does have a way about him. I’m sure whomever you choose will make you just as happy as I am.”
“Too true,” Merry added. “While my lot in life isn’t the courageous soldier I’d always dreamed of, his absence does allow me a great deal of freedom in managing my household. There’s nothing I want for and even less that I have to worry about. You’ll see, even a bad marriage like mine isn’t all that terrible.”
Mouse tried to calm herself, dotting at her eyes with her handkerchief. The last thing she wanted to do was cause her poor sisters upset. “Yes, of course, you’re both right. I don’t know why I’m being so silly about it all. I’m no different than any of the young ladies that will be present tonight. Although I do find myself wishing it wasn’t at all so much like a horse auction.”
“Oh, Mouse,” Cat twittered, “you do say the most scandalous things.”
The three women laughed together, the tension draining out of the room. Both of them left Mouse with words of wisdom on the proper behavior of a young lady during such occasions, relating stories of past triumphs and defeats of other young women thrown into such precarious positions.
“And don’t forget what I told you about Lucinda Lyons. It was a terrible embarrassment when they found Lord Pansing peering down her bodice. She was completely ruined! Of course, the young men

will always try such foolish things, but it’s the older ones you must be wary of.” Merry said with a knowing look aimed at Catalina.
Hattie returned with a tray full of cakes and tea. “Here’s just what the young lady needs to calm her stomach. I smuggled them out of the kitchen myself, right under Porter’s eyes.”
Mouse groaned inwardly. How could she possibly eat at a time like this? Well, the truth be known, she’d always had quite an appetite, especially for cakes. She looked longingly at the tray and said, “None for me, thank you. If I eat so much as a bite, I’ll explode right out of this corset and never be put back in. I’ll eat tonight after I’ve come home.”
Again her bedroom door opened and Mouse’s most dreaded visitor appeared. Wearing blazing red to match the bright coppery tresses of her hair, Elsbeth Haversham Ellerton made her entrance.
“Skulking about again, I see!”
Her widowed stepmother was truly a sight to behold. Decked out in the family rubies and diamonds, peacock feathers in her hat and a black lace shawl, their stepmother appeared as bright and bawdy as a ten-penny whore. Mouse groaned.
“Oh, nonsense, El, the girls have just come to wish me luck at the ball tonight.” She moved forward as her two sisters stepped swiftly back. The two of them were clearly intimidated by the painted woman.
The harlot had rushed both of her sisters into marriage so that she could manage the attentions of their father alone. Mouse, who’d stood a bit higher in her father’s affection, had ruined that plan. So taken had he been with his youngest daughter, that he simply could not tolerate the thought of her absence. That problem had been dealt with the year before, when he had died, albeit penniless much to the surprise of all the women in his life. Mouse herself had thought it a supreme joke at the time, when she’d seen the look of horror on her stepmother’s face.
“Spare me your distasteful display of sisterly camaraderie.” She snapped her delicate fan sharply. “It is time to leave for the ball, Miranda. The carriage is waiting. I shall be accompanying you.”

It should have been enough that the woman was dressed out of mourning, wearing the blazing red instead of customary black. To be seen in public so soon after their father’s death was unspeakable. Hearing her sisters near to swooning behind her gave Mouse a bit more courage to confront their stepmother.
“Excuse me, dear one, but you are barely out of mourning. It isn’t proper for a widow to go out into public so soon. At least allow a few more months to pass…” She dared not mention the year or longer that society demanded of its widows. She knew it wouldn’t have helped to mention society to the likes of Elsbeth. She’d no more propriety than a pig in a silk dress.
“There is nothing more that I would like to do than bow to the dictates of the aristocracy. Your father died leaving me without any income and with this lumbering estate shackled around my neck. Until I find a buyer, every penny that comes in must be used to maintain this hulking pile of wood and stone. I haven’t the choice of a proper widowhood because I’ve got to worry about finances.”
“But our inheritance from Papa’s estate—” Merry began.
“Is nearly all spent!” Elsbeth hissed. “Your faithless father did not even provide for his own funeral. Now come along, Miranda. We must be going before sunset. That half blind groom will have us lost in the dark if we don’t.”
With that she turned, red skirts in a swirl and left the sisters gawking in her wake.
“That witch!” Merry scoffed. “Here she is quacking on about the family money, when those jewels alone are enough to finance the estate for a year!”
“Not exactly, Merry,” Mouse answered in a quiet voice. “They’re not real. Very good imitations, but not a bit real.”
“That can’t be!” Both women intoned together.
“Oh yes it can,” Mouse sighed. “Papa told me about a week before he died. They are only lead crystal. Worthless but pretty. Sort of fits our stepmother, wouldn’t you say?”
“Dear God, Mousey.” Cat stepped forward. “What are you going to do?”

She turned and looked at the expectant faces of her sisters. “I’m going to catch a husband, I imagine. Elsbeth will squander my bridal gift, as she did yours. She will then sell our home and make off with the money. She might try to extort her living out of our respective husbands, though I doubt it’ll work for long. Then we can have the utmost pleasure at seeing her carted off somewhere to debtor’s prison or worse yet, into an equally appalling marital situation as she has forced upon each of us.”
“I hear she’s buried three husbands already, Mouse. Somehow I don’t think she’ll fare that badly.” Merry sighed.
“Well,” Mouse pulled in as much air as her bodice would allow, “we can only hope.”

“See that his restraints are secure,” Ambray ordered his minion roughly. “We mustn’t have him getting loose again. He nearly frightened the servants half to death the last time.”
The struggling man lay on a cot hardly large enough for a child, his arms and legs hanging off at the ends. Leather straps secured him at his wrists and ankles, each to a corner of the small bed. Michael rocked back and forth furiously, fighting against the two orderlies who struggled to push a rag into his mouth and tie it securely. Jerking his head to one side, the piece of twisted cloth came loose. The Earl shouted through the hands clutching at his face.
“You’ll not get any information out of me! Go ahead and kill me, you dirty bastards!”
“Now, now, your Lordship,” the orderly crooned. “Be a good lout, an’ let us fix your dress clothes.” Elias Mauler stated through clenched teeth. A behemoth of a man, the orderly stood well over six feet and clearly tipped the scale over two hundred and eighty pounds. Thickly built and visibly strong, he still had great difficulty holding onto his charge. It was his hands that frightened Michael the most. The large, club-like appendages held him fast, threatening to crush his skull with little effort.
Just when Michael thought he could stand no more, the other orderly stepped forward, holding a bottle of dark, green liquid and a small ceramic cup. Michael tensed. It was Digby Horn. A short, thin frame, Horn was as much a threat as his larger counterpart.

“Come, come, my lord. If we’re not careful, we’ll be wasting this fine medicine.”
As he continued to struggle against his caretakers, Michael heard the bedroom door open. On the edge of his awareness, he watched as his cousin and another, smaller figure entered the chamber.
“I don’t know, Ambray,” the woman’s tone was smooth and low, soft as silk and very seductive. “This scheme of yours is awfully risky.”
“Never mind my risk,” Ambray answered tersely. “Just worry about your own charge. Where did you leave her?”
“On the landing with the Earl of Langford’s nephew. He’s a randy lad of fifteen who’ll keep her busy. Fancies himself a ladies gent, you know. Takes after his uncle, I expect.”
“Good. I want her occupied tonight but not so much that she doesn’t take notice of the Earl.”
Michael drew in his breath at his cousin’s statement. With his thoughts swimming uncontrollably he could hardly sort out the images of people he’d known as they came and went. He could feel the run of sweat on his brow. Was it a fever? Was he imagining these strange goings on? What was real and what wasn’t? He’d not the slightest idea. Michael turned his head, focusing on the couple.
“Yes,” Ambray was saying, “when all is arranged we’ll take him to the country house and ply him with our special attentions. Before you know it, we’ll be in the money.”
The woman shook her head, red curls flouncing as she did so. “I don’t know.” She hesitated, watching the man struggling on the bed. “Perhaps you should let me marry him instead?”
“You?” Ambray laughed. “Who would believe this ripe, young scalawag would choose your obvious, if not well used charms over that of the young, plump pigeon who waits downstairs? Hmmm?”
She scoffed, “I could pull it off, Ambray. I’d have him singing like a little bird in no time at all.” She pouted.
He patted her on the cheek, “No doubt at all, sweetheart, which would be placing you in charge of the Winningham interests when he dies, Elsbeth. That is unacceptable. I’ve worked too hard with this family to have someone else take over at the very last of it. Besides,

there is more at stake here than just the old Earl’s money. There are his business interests to consider.”
Michael strained to listen. This was no illusion, he thought.
“Shhh! He’ll hear you!”
“So what if he does,” Ambray stated. “Half the time he is so full of laudanum he doesn’t remember his own name. During his more lucid moments he’s out of his head and back fighting some damn battle. It doesn’t matter. He won’t remember any of this. Even if he does, who’d believe him?”
“I suppose you’re right,” Elsbeth said, though her tone was not quite all convincing. “Besides, what’s wrong with me being an heiress?
“If I worry you, you’d only have to get what you want by marrying me.”
“Marry you? Haven’t you lured enough men down the aisle as it is? What is it, four, no five husbands? Besides, the minute you drew your first farthing, you’d forget my name.” He reached out and grabbed a handful of her auburn tresses, tilting her head back slightly. She looked up at him, her mouth half open, her eyes closed.
“Oh, Ambray…” she said, her voice between a whisper and a sigh.
Suddenly he pushed her back. “Don’t try to seduce me. I know all of your tricks. You forget, I taught them to you.”
In answer, Eslbeth chuckled. “What a good teacher you were.” Turning her attention to the table she leaned over slightly. Michael could feel the woman’s scathing gaze as it skimmed across him. Quickly, he closed his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to endure her sharp stare. He knew she was studying him, learning of his weaknesses and of his pain.
“Just look at him! How are you going to make him presentable enough to go to the ball? He smells like a barn. If you try to shave him, you’ll likely end up cutting his throat. While that might take care of a few of your problems, it would leave you bereft of his fortune.”
“We’ll clean him once the laudanum takes effect. Don’t worry. It was easy enough to dispose of the other obstacles that plagued us. How quickly he fell for pretty little Katerina,” he stated, smiling at his own humor.

“Fell is the word for it.” Elsbeth stated, preening herself in the mirror.
The larger of the two orderlies leaned over, “He won’t take his medicine, sir,” he whispered to Ambray. Michael had tightened his mouth shut, turning his head sharply away from them.
“Watch,” Ambray told her. “I know my cousin will be more cooperative. Isn’t that right, Michael?”
Michael spat at him. “Go to hell!”
“Going to be that way, is it? Michael, you need to learn a gentler attitude. What would your dear departed Katerina think of your behavior? She was such a delicate thing, you know. Her condition was so frail, so vulnerable. Such a pity about her accident…”
Michael stopped suddenly and stared up at Ambray, locking their eyes together. “You murdering bastard!”
“Am I the murderer? You forget cousin. It wasn’t I who caused her death.” His eyes narrowed, a leer edging onto his face.
Michael’s expression darkened. “You know I didn’t mean it! It was an accident!” Even as he spoke those words, he felt the sting of tears against his eyes. “Why don’t you just kill me and be done with it?”
“Don’t be dull, Michael. Be a good soldier and drink your laudanum.”
Michael’s strength was waning. He’d been fighting them for days and days. He was losing the battle. When Mauler handed Ambray the cup, he held it to Michael’s mouth. Without further argument, the earl drank the *******s of the cup, wincing slightly as the coarse liquid burned his throat.
“There’s a good boy, Michael. Now, let Mr. Mauler and Mr. Horn get you dressed. It is time to meet your next wife.”
Ambray then turned to the servants. “Make sure the lamps are all filled. We can’t have him convulsing in front of the guests.” Michael heard the command just as he slipped into a dull, thrumming numbness.
~ * ~
Mouse fidgeted as she sat on the large settee. Young men were all about her now, their attentions focused on the myriad of the ladies.

All plumed and puffed up, waiting for the choicest suitors to take their hands and lead them down the merry path of matrimony. Mouse scowled inwardly at the thought of marrying one of these bawdy gents. They spoke in quiet tones, laughing at intervals. All of them looked down their noses at the slightly plump, blushing Miranda Ellerton. She knew that she would most likely be the last to be chosen, if at all. In an odd way, it suited her fine. What did she need of fancy dress and fine airs anyway?
In order to take her mind off of her troubles, Mouse hastened a quick look around the room and took in the sight of the elderly matrons that lined the wall. In their motherly fashion, they watched their daughters and sons and chattering away. Of course, she noticed the absence of her stepmother. Mouse scowled, wondering what schemes her Elsbeth was brewing. Mouse opened her fan, waving it furiously. The action mustered up a breeze that made the footman’s hair, so carefully combed across his balding spot, flutter like a mid-summer storm was blowing over him.
Minutes later, Mouse spied a young man, barely out of his knickers, inching closer to her side. Within seconds the youth was leaning in a peculiar fashion, obviously attempting to steal a view down the front of her bodice. Snapping her fan smartly at the youth, Mouse was about to make her best set down to the cur when she heard a commotion at the top of the stairs.
For a single moment the gathering in the ballroom moved as one, eyes upward, looking toward the host of the early spring gathering. Two large orderlies held a sagging figure between them. Dressed in a black ensemble with white tie and tails, he should have been the very example of a wealthy, titled man of society. Instead, he was leaning heavily on the orderlies, but struggling nonetheless to be free of their support. Behind him was another, taller man, with blond hair and a square sort of face. The fair-haired man wore a dour expression smiling only briefly when he looked towards the woman at his side, Elsbeth.
The crowd might have gasped at the impropriety of the second Madame Ellerton, if it had not been for the sight of the figure in front of her. The strange man was most decidedly indisposed. If the

gentlemen holding him had let go, he would have tumbled down the winding stair. It clearly took two men to hold him upright.
But it was the stranger’s face that captured Mouse’s attention. A brilliant blue-green, his eyes appeared as if they were some exotic stones stolen from the bottom of the sea. Bright and sparkling, despite the obvious condition of the rest of him. Suddenly, she felt a shock run through her, for those chilly turquoise diamonds were fixed on someone in the room. She looked nervously about and realized that his gaze was trained on her.
“Who is he?” she asked, though not of anyone in particular.
Fanny Atherton was standing beside her, herself a veteran of several seasons and unfortunately not yet wed.
“Him? That’s the mad earl, poor thing.”
“Mad?” Mouse whirled about, training her glance on her friend. “Why do they call him that?”
“It is believed that he killed his late wife!”
“Killed her?” Mouse was instantly curious, suddenly pulled into the intrigue. “Are you sure?”
“That is the rumor,” Fanny snorted. Turning her short, blunt nose up, she walked away, likely planning to ply her wiles on the other side of the room.
“But it is a rumor, after all,” Mouse stated after her, a bit indignantly.
When she turned back around, she was nearly face to face with the mad earl. Her breath caught in her throat at the nearness of him. So enthralled at his dark countenance, she nearly missed the odd odor that hung about him. As a physician’s daughter, she was familiar with several medicines, but this was nothing like the spirits she’d become accustomed to during her father’s practice.
“And who is this lovely creature?” The earl addressed her in an odd tone, his words slurring as he spoke.
“This is Miranda Ellerton, your grace,” The blonde man behind him stated.
“Miss Ellerton, my esteemed cousin, Lord Winningham, the fifth Earl of Winningham.”

“My Lord,” she said, executing a perfect curtsey. When he put his hand out to take hers, for the briefest of seconds, Mouse saw the most disturbing sight of the evening. Around his wrist the skin was torn and bleeding. Clearly he’d been recently restrained.
Although she’d not meant to, her eyes flicked down to the opposite wrist, which was being held by his manservant. There were similar marks there as well.
The Earl leaned forward and held out his hand, palm up. Mouse slowly gave him her own and he wrapped it in his grasp. “A very fair hand,” he said, and ceremoniously kissed the air a few spare inches above it.
Before bending into her curtsey, Mouse whispered, “My Lord, your wrists!”
His head drooped slightly forward “I’m afraid I’ve misbehaved.”
Embarrassed, she tried to look away but he gently squeezed her hand, drawing her eyes back.
“My l-lord,” she stammered again. There was a hint of fear in her trembling voice.
He held her a moment longer, but then something else inched into his expression and she could not discern its meaning. Shame clouded those perfect blue green eyes, or perhaps embarrassment of some unknown incident? He quickly dropped her hand as though it was on fire and he’d just been burned.
“Let’s get through this,” the mad earl told his cousin, “I don’t feel well, Ambray.”
Dismissed, Mouse let out the breath she’d been holding during his attentions.
“What an odd man,” she muttered quietly to herself, flushing heavily when she realized that she’d been talking to herself again.
Raising her skirts, Mouse pushed through the throng that was staring after the earl to find Fanny once again.
“You must tell me more about him.” Mouse insisted.
Cornered by the ********************************************************ment table and seeing that she wasn’t to be left alone, Fanny sighed deeply and motioned her friend to come out on the balcony.

“He was an officer in the army before he received his Earldom,” Fanny informed her once they were safely out of earshot. “He led a regiment to fight in Spain. During the course of the battle it’s said that he panicked and deserted his men on the battlefield. Captured by the enemy after his desertion, he was imprisoned for nearly a month, until his cousin paid a large ransom. Since, he hasn’t been a sane man. He’d married before the war. A month after his return home, his wife fell to her death from the balcony of their home.”
“Really? The poor man!” Mouse said, fear and wonder warring in her heart.
“Poor man, indeed. Of course, the official story is that she leaned against some railing that was in ill repair. Rumor has it that he’d been having severe bouts of temper and drinking. Most of the ton believes he pushed her. Because he’s a peer, it was never investigated very thoroughly.” Fanny stated at last, turning her short, rather unattractive nose upward.
“Well,” Mouse stated, not really knowing what else to say. “Why is he having this party? I mean, if he’s so ill and all—”
“You really don’t get out much, do you, dear?” Fanny asked pointedly.
“What are you talking about?” Mouse’s temper was beginning to wear a bit thin.
“The mad earl is suiting for a wife, that’s why. He has no heirs to his title. There were his three uncles, but they were killed last year in a carriage accident. The thing turned over, crushing all three.”
“Really,” Mouse muttered. “So, who would consent to marrying a man who’s under suspicion of killing his first wife?”
“Who indeed?” Fanny remarked, making her escape back into the party.
~ * ~
With his duties dispatched, Michael was promptly returned to his room. He’d told Ambray that he needed no medicine to sleep, that he would not struggle again tonight. Ignoring Michael’s request, his cousin gave the orders and soon the two servants had forced more of the foul liquid down his throat. The taste of it still burned in his mouth. Mauler and Horn then refused him even a drink of water and

had left him alone, secured to his bed while they played cards in the next room.
Left to the effect of the drug coursing through his system, Michael’s eyes wandered around the ornate bedroom. Thick auburn drapes hung against one wall, fluttering slightly as a cool breeze trickled in. The azure glow reminded him of the battlefield at sunset. Michael shivered. It would do no good to tell them he was cold, even if he could shout loud enough to gain their attention. The candlelight flickered on the other side of the room, sputtering against the currents of air. Before long the flame went out completely, leaving the earl in total darkness.
Michael breathed heavily. An icy chill climbed up his spine. He wouldn’t dare tell his caretakers he was afraid of the dark. They would punish him by keeping him in darkness. He tried to focus his mind on something else. Something that didn’t invoke the scarred memories that haunted him or the painful existence his life had become. Then, it came to him.
He remembered the young girl at the party. The one with lovely gray eyes and light brown curls. She’d gazed at him with a wide-eyed mixture of curiosity and innocence, the likes of which he’d not seen since childhood. When she’d seen his wrists, her expression changed to one of concern. Her small mouth tightening into a perfect circle, she soothed his injuries with her gaze. Michael Kelton could not remember anyone in his life ever caring so much about him. When he’d explained his bad behavior was the cause, she didn’t step back in horror, but expressed sadness at his plight.
Miranda Ellerton. Michael imagined her to be an angel. Closing his eyes, he pretended that she sat with him now, holding his hand, warding off the terrible things intruding upon his life. Finally, Michael drifted off to a restful, protected sleep.
~ * ~
Ambray was not surprised when the knock came upon the parlor door at so late an hour. He’d just lit a cheroot and had poured himself a glass of brandy.
“Enter,” he called out. He tossed the stick into the fireplace and watched as it was consumed in the flames. As the door opened behind him, Ambray wondered just what it was with fire that so affected his cousin. As the flames died away, something within the flickering light triggered Michael’s illness. Something dark and foreboding.

“The General is here to see you, Mr. Kelton,” the servant stated.
Ambray turned to greet the older man. General Benton Marcus Wexley was formidable. Tall and robust, even aged at nearly seventy, he was an imposing figure. One that had moved entire armies, had been invaluable to Wellington in Spain, and now reported directly to the House of Lords. Ambray was impressed. He’d seen the General on several occasions, not formally, of course. He quickly noted that the man held the innate ability to fold into whatever crowd he attended. He could be the gallant soldier while impressing the ladies, or a doddering, bent old fool when it served him. But now, Wexley stood to his full six-foot height, ready to stand down the young whelp that’d summoned him.
“General Wexley, how good of you to join me. Please, make yourself comfortable. I have some interesting liqueurs, a smooth brandy, or, is a stout port more to your liking?” Ambray asked offering up his fine, blended tobacco.
The General put up a hand. “I don’t smoke and I rarely drink, sir. At my age, it isn’t good for the digestion. I tend to become peptic.”
“Yes, well, of course, sir, as you wish.” Ambray stepped back, his generosity drooping like a sail on a windless day. “At any rate,” he continued, taking the seat across from his guest, “I’d like to thank you for making time to meet with me.”
“Yes, of course,” the General answered gruffly. “Congeniality aside, what to you want, Kelton? And at this late hour, too. Is there something wrong with the earl? He looked damn sore at the ball tonight.”
“No, the earl’s condition has not changed.”
“Then why have you brought him to London? Has he confessed to anything?”
Ambray smiled then. “No, not particularly.” He leaned forward. “Let us be forth-coming, sir. I know that you were behind my cousin’s interrogation after his capture in Spain. I know also that our government thinks he played a part in his abduction, perhaps

divulging critical information to the enemy. That he could still prove valuable.”
The elder man’s blue eyes turned steel gray. “The government has long known that there was little information to be gotten from him. Besides, with his deteriorating mental condition, what use could he be to us now? What could he reveal?”
Ambray’s excitement grew to immense proportions, as though it were about to burst forth from his chest. “The name of his father’s associates, those who aided him in trading in guns and lies in order to help the French purpose. There was the rumor about the sunken ship off the northern coast. The one carrying that last shipment of arms to Spain. What if those weapons had been recovered and Michael knows their ************************************************************ ****?”
Wexley sat back, examining. “That’s nonsense. Michael Kelton was thoroughly examined. He has no knowledge of such things.”
“Perhaps not where it is evident, certainly not in his conscious mind. My cousin is a mystery, a coarse, convoluted puzzle which cannot be solved by ordinary methods.”
“You know of extraordinary methods?”
“I know my cousin.”
The General settled back, “And you are thinking that you might extract something from him that your betters have missed. How would you accomplish this?” His voice grew softer.
Ambray put up his hand. “I cannot tell you of my methods. Let’s just say that I’ve been a companion to Michael since we were boys. I know him better than any man. I can get the information you require, but I wish to do so only if I can prosper from it.”
“What do you want? If it’s only to name Winningham’s conspirators, I can tell you the Crown has its suspicions already. You’ll gain nothing but disdain at producing worthless results.”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t plan to name anyone. In fact, I’m thinking that with the end of the war, those men are powerless. But, the circle of spies is what I’m interested in. I think the entire network, as well as the smuggling routes would be of more interest, don’t you?”

“Catch the whole bunch of them, eh? And you would sell this information to the government?”
“I doubt the Prince Regent could meet my price. No. If I may be so bold, sir. I’ve heard a few rumors floating about. Rumors about your own involvement.”
The General tensed before him, his eyes reflecting the firelight in a way that mimicked a growing storm about to burst forth onto an unsuspecting landscape.
“And, what have you heard?”
“That you were searching for the same thing as I, but not to report to the House. I’ve heard that you have a desire to join the trade business. I would like to become your partner.”
Wexley let out a slow breath, pursing his silver bearded mouth in concentration. Ambray knew that he controlled the situation now. The General had not stormed out, as he might have, or feigned ignorance. No. He was definitely thoughtful.
“Say all this were true, Kelton. What makes you think you can extract anything from your cousin, if you’ve not done so in the last eighteen months?”
It was all Ambray could to do keep from shouting with joy. He had Wexley now. With just the right amount of pressure, he’d bag the old man like a hound retrieving the precious dove.
“I am close, General, extremely close. I’ve but a few sessions left with Michael and I will force the information from him. Be sure of it.”
The General nodded. “Very well. I will be in touch with you in two weeks by courier to check on your progress. If what you say is true, then I can see where we would both benefit.”
Ambray stood and motioned to his guest. “You will not be disappointed, General.” They sealed their agreement with a handshake.
For an instant, the General hesitated during their grasp. “You know, Kelton. I’d heard things about you during the conflict. You were a mediocre soldier at best, a whining ninny with no cunning or scruples to your name. I’d say that your counterparts were a bit dull for not noticing the potential in you. Pity, that.”

~ * ~
The ride home in the carriage was the worst part of the whole experience, Mouse decided, as she was forced to share it with her stepmother. Only five years her senior, the woman her father had chosen to marry was a nonsensical, twittering idiot, in her opinion. It took all of Mouse’s willpower not to open the side door and chuck the woman onto the road below.
“Did you see Lady Pelham’s gown? It was the most remarkable creation, I must find out who her dressmaker is. She is such a daring thing.”
When Mouse made no comment, Elsbeth cleared her throat. “You know, it might be beneficial if you were to show off a bit more of your own ample bosom. The gentlemen prefer…”
Mouse’s eyes widened with rising anger. Before she could answer her stepmother’s suggestion, the other woman reached out to her.
“Miranda, I’m only thinking of your best interest. You’ll never catch a husband if you don’t display yourself better. You don’t want to live your whole life in solitude do you?” And thus the lecture began.
The best defense for Elsbeth’s insistent verbiage was simply to ignore her. Mouse turned her attention to the window and instead reviewed the events of her first ball. Although she’d dreaded it terribly, she had to admit that it had been quite different than she’d ever expected. In short, Michael Kelton fascinated Mouse. It seemed a shame to have such a handsome gentleman subject to the misfortune of insanity. He could have been so much more! She mused what he might look like, if he were a charming, well-mannered example of the aristocracy. Those eyes captured her from the beginning. She understood what the moth must feel like when it dances too near the flame. Even now, hours later, his gaze seemed to have burned a permanent impression onto her memory. Before long, the droning speech brought her back to reality.
“What do you think about the Earl? Such a handsome thing he is. I talked with his cousin quite a while. It is most unfortunate about his illness.”

“Yes,” Mouse spoke for the first time since they’d begun the journey home. “Such a terrible thing, mental illness.”
“I have it on good account that he’s receiving the best treatment in the realm. His cousin informed me that Lord Winningham is considering taking a wife soon. His health is declining and he must seek a mate to ensure the family name. Ambray, that is Mr. Kelton, says according to his father’s will, he must have an heir by his thirtieth birthday or his title will be forfeit. All the estates and holdings will go to the crown.”
“Really? Do they still do such a thing?” Mouse leaned forward.
“I’m afraid so.”
“If Mr. Kelton is first cousin, then why doesn’t he inherit?”
“Because of his family situation. Mr. Kelton is not a legal heir to his own father’s estate, being born of a union not blessed by the church or the late gentleman’s wife.”
“Oh. He isn’t recognized because he’s a bastard.”
“Quite,” Elsbeth answered, squirming a bit in her seat. “But he was raised by the old earl and is nearly like a brother to Lord Winningham. They even served in the army together. Mr. Kelton is a decorated war hero, I’m told.”
“You know a lot about Mr. Kelton. Do you have any designs in that direction, El?”
“Of course, not,” Elsbeth answered sharply. “I have finished marrying, I think. I prefer to spend my declining years as a widow and nothing else.”
“Finding marriage a bit too confining?” Mouse said, not reigning in her sarcasm.
Elsbeth was not to be insulted, “A bit,” she stated, looking Mouse squarely in the eye, “but then, I’d not expect you to have any knowledge in that area, yourself never having been married.”
The carriage stopped and the valet opened the door, ushering the two women out. Just as Mouse had freed her reticule, they heard the sound of horse’s hooves coming up the drive.
“Who can that be this late?” Mouse asked, straining her eyes to see in the darkness. The cloudy night sky prevented any illumination whatsoever.

“I’m not sure, wait here. I’ll summon Porter to see to it.”
~ * ~
When the two women entered the parlor, a tray of tea and cakes awaited them. Sitting down, Mouse quickly grabbed the pot and began to pour for them both. Sharing the warm ********************************************************ment with her stepmother was not generally her habit but having developed a bit of curiosity toward the Earl, she wanted to glean as much information from the woman as possible. She knew that if anyone was an expert on the men of society, it was Elsbeth.
Just then Mouse heard the excited squeal of her stepmother as she read the notice brought by the butler.
“Do you know who that was, Miranda?”
“I’ve not the faintest idea. I’d guess it to be someone male by your expression.”
Ignoring the dig, Elsbeth eagerly scanned the folded piece of parchment.
“What is it?” Mouse asked, her anxiety growing. It couldn’t have been good news to be delivered so late.
El stepped forward, holding the paper as though it were pure gold. “This, my darling stepdaughter, is a letter from the Mr. Kelton, at the insistence of Lord Winningham. According to Ambray, the Earl has put forth a request.”
“A request? Of what sort?”
“He is asking if we would be willing to make a trip to his estate in the north! Rosecliff, it’s called. Mr. Kelton states the Earl was very taken with you. He wishes for an extended visit so that he might come to know you better.”
Mouse felt a mixture of fear and excitement. She thought he’d barely noticed her at the party that evening. With so many other beautiful women about, how could he have not seen her plainness? “I don’t understand?”
“According to this letter from Mr. Kelton, the earl intends to offer for your hand.”
~ * ~
“Is everything ready?” Ambray asked the orderly.

“Yes, sir,” Mr. Horn answered back, a crooked smile gracing his uneven face. “He’s all trussed up and got an extra dose of the laudanum, like you ordered.”
Ambray looked to where Michael sat erect, secured in the straight-backed chair. A sheet was wrapped around his chest and his wrists were tied to the armrests. His head hung limply to the side, his eyes covered with a thick, black cloth. Paled in the dim candlelight, Michael’s coloring was a sharp contrast to the deep hues of the parlor.
“Here, Kelton,” Winthorp commented, as he entered the room. “Do you think it’s wise to do this again so soon? It took him nearly a week to recover from the last session.”
“He managed well enough. Besides, we need him weak and not fighting for the trip back to Rosecliff.”
Winthorp shrugged. “As you wish.” He placed a hand against Michael’s forehead. “You’d best hurry, before he passes out completely, though.”
“Did you bleed him already?” Ambray asked.
“About an hour ago, though much more of that and we’ll be burying him, I can assure you.”
Ambray nodded. It was a fine line they traversed. They needed Michael alive, but not much more than that. He moved to stand beside the chair. Grasping his cousin by his hair, he tilted the earl’s head back.
“Wake up! It’s time for us to talk again.”
Michael groaned. “Please. Must sleep. Too tired tonight, Ambray.”
“Nonsense, Michael. You’re the picture of health. We’ve work to do. Now, wake up!”
Michael stirred, turning his covered eyes towards Ambray.
“Yes? What is it?”
“We must talk, Michael.”
“What about?” Michael slurred, his voice drifting out.
When he did not move again, Ambray drew back his hand and struck Michael on the jaw, jerking his head sideways.
“What?” Michael asked again, his voice stronger, the pain rousing him temporarily.

“I need to know your secrets, cousin.”
I have no secrets from you, Ambray. Why would you ask such a thing?”
“You’re lying. You do have information tucked deep in that faithless brain of yours. Tell me your father’s secrets, Michael!”
“No! I can’t!” Michael began to struggle against his restraints. Though it was a weak effort, he persisted, twisting his hands and arms in the soft bonds.
“Tell me.” Ambray commanded, grabbing Michael by the jaw with his free hand. Squeezing slightly, he applied pressure to the spot he’d just hit, taking pleasure when his cousin winced at the pain.
“I can’t. I won’t.” Michael tried to pull away from Ambray’s grasp.
“Tell me, Michael! What did your father tell you?”
“Can’t. Told me never to tell. Said it would bring disaster to us all.”
“Your father is dead, Michael. Tell me what I want to know or you will soon join him!”
Michael shook his head, clamping his mouth shut.
“I can hurt you, cousin. Hurt you badly. Is that what you want?”
A thin sheen of sweat covered Michael’s brow. In spite of Ambray’s threats, Michael remained silent.
Enraged, Ambray drew back his fist, but his arm was caught in mid-swing. He looked up into the calm face of Winthorp.
“Take care, Kelton. If you set him to howling at this hour, it will only serve to wake the servants. Don’t you think it would be best to wait until we got him back to the country?”
For a moment Ambray barely breathed, his anger slowly giving way to good sense. “Very well. Bring me the candle.” He turned to Horn. “Remove the blindfold.”
The servant scuttled forward, as Ambray took the candle, its low, flickering wick barely staying lit. He quickly looked to his cousin’s expression.
Michael Kelton sat, wide-eyed, tense and unmoving. Still as stone, the fear reflected in his drawn expression.
“No!” He cried.

“What’s the matter, Michael? Are we afraid of the little flame?” Ambray teased. Slowly he brought the candle closer until it was but inches from Michael’s face.
For a moment neither Ambray nor Winthorp breathed. Only seconds passed before Michael’s tremors began. Small and barely noticeable, the convulsion started with the repeated clenching of his jaw. The effect spread across his face, down his neck and shoulders, until the Earl’s limbs shook, and a loud howl erupted from him until his mouth clamped shut upon it. A violent shudder shook the earl, until muscle by muscle he relaxed, his eyes fluttering wildly. In seconds all his movement ceased and he remained with eyes closed, his body relaxed in a strange parody of the dead.
Ambray watched him until Michael’s chest began to rise and fall with the return of his normal breathing.
“Amazing,” Winthorp said behind him. “Absolutely amazing. In the morning, he’ll remember none of our questions?”
“Nary a thing,” Ambray responded quietly. Sitting back, he turned to the physician. The man’s face was a study of fascination. Ambray certainly didn’t envy his cousin’s plight at the hands of Winton Winthorp.

“This can’t be happening!” Catalina wailed. She was seated on the bed in Mouse’s bedroom, her hands filled with soggy handkerchiefs. Mouse’s traveling clothes, a half-full armoire, and several volumes of books surrounded the three women.
“Now, now, Cat.” Mouse comforted her. “It isn’t all that bad.”
Merry paced the room in front of them. “Not all that bad? Mouse, how can you say such a thing?” She stopped right in front of the two sisters, and stood glaring down upon them. “Will you please stop your bawling, you’re not doing the situation a bit of good.”
“Neither is your shouting!” Cat yelled back.
“Sisters, please!” Mouse’s voice rang out above them. “The two of you arguing is the last thing I need right now.” She reached over and pulled the sobbing Catalina into her embrace. “There, there, it isn’t as bad as all that.”
“Oh, Mouse, you are so brave,” Cat’s muffled voice came from her breast.
“I wouldn’t call it brave, more like a lamb to the slaughter,” Merry said, resuming her pacing.
“Will you both please calm yourselves. I am not brave and I am not going to the slaughter. I’m just going to have dinner with Lord Winningham and get this whole thing sorted out. After we rationally

sit down and discuss the matter, I’m sure we both will agree that we don’t suit and I will be home in a few days, unmarried, still.”
Catalina pulled away. “Do you think so?”
“Of course, I do,” she said hugging her sister.
Merry was not so easily convinced. “You’re going to convince the mad earl to see reason?”
“Well, yes. I am. I mean, he didn’t seem all that bad to me last night. He spoke quite normally.” She stopped, remembering his exact words and lowered her eyes a bit guiltily.
“Really,” stated Merry, stopping right in front of her. “And just what did he say?”
“Well,” Mouse stammered a bit. “He said he’d been—”
“What?” Merry insisted.
“He said he’d been misbehaving.”
Cat sat up. “Why would he say such an odd thing?”
“Because he’s insane.” Merry said restraining her voice to somewhere just below a shout.
“No. Because when he took my hand at the introduction, I noticed that his wrists had some very bad blistering. They were rubbed raw and bleeding.”
“Oh, God,” Merry said, taking the seat at the dressing table.
“It’s not as bad as all that,” Mouse said, as she rose to her sister’s side. When she did, Catalina sank back onto the bed, giving in to a torrent of tears.
“My sister’s going to be murdered by the mad earl, I just know it!”
“It is just a rumor that he killed his first wife. He really seemed quite sweet and a little bit sad. Perhaps all he needs is someone to care for him properly until he gets better.” Mouse stated weakly.
Merry looked up sharply. “Now you listen to me, Miranda! This isn’t the squire’s cat with a broken paw, or one of the kitchen help with a cut thumb! This man is insane. You can’t put a poultice on that!”

“Don’t be absurd, Merry. I have been doing some reading, and it’s just that there are treatments for melancholia—”
“Oh, God,” Cat said behind her. “She has already diagnosed him.”
Mouse gave them both an exasperated look.
Attempting to dry her eyes, Catalina, cleared her throat, “Well, if anyone can heal him, our Mouse can. Besides, Arthur knew his mother’s family quite well and said that he’s of good stock. He might just pull out of it, you know.”
Merry only scoffed. Rising, she walked to look out the ************************************************************ **** “Well, he does own an impressive carriage.”
“Owns several of them and a lot of other things. Our dear Elsbeth did quite an accounting of him last night. Even if his mind isn’t sound, monetarily he is quite healthy. His cousin, Mr. Kelton manages all of his accounts, I’m told. Cares for him like a brother.”
“Yes, well watch out that he doesn’t try to care for his brother’s wife.” Merry noted, beside her. “Edmund is very knowledgeable about the Earl’s cousin. According to him, Kelton is quite unruly. Likes anything in a skirt and is said to even go to the darker houses for entertainment.”
“The what?” Mouse asked. Before an answer came forth, the bedroom door burst open and Elsbeth entered.
Dressed in yellow and blue, her hat covered in flowers, Elsbeth was the perfect picture of fashion ten years out of vogue. She smiled at Mouse; her expression that of the cat who’d just finished all the cream.
“Are you ready, Miranda? Oh dear!” She stepped forward, removing the fichu that Mouse had tucked chastely into her bosom. “How many times have I told you, Miranda? Gentlemen prefer a good view of a woman’s virtues.” She gave a motherly tug at Mouse’s bodice. “There. That’s better. We mustn’t keep the carriage waiting, you know. Society waits for no man.”
“That’s time, Stepmother dear. Time waits for no man.” Mouse gave a last pull at the fabric that tautly held her breasts in place.

Certain the forthcoming dinner was tantamount to disaster, she picked up her hat and gloves, gave her sisters a secure hug, and followed her stepmother out.
~ * ~
“Time to wake up, Michael.” Ambray called out. The room took on a sudden chill as he pulled the shutters, blocking out the late afternoon sun.
“What? Why?” Michael struggled against his bindings, his voice thick with sleep. Exhaustion claimed every muscle in his body. A weightiness hung over his mind and his thoughts muzzily bounded around his consciousness. He felt as though someone had played cricket with his body and left him out on the lawn too long. He would have slept until dusk had his caretaker allowed it.
“It is time to rise. You have guests for dinner. I want you awake and presentable.”
Michael opened his eyes and saw his cousin standing before the French windows. His golden countenance glowed in the midday sun. Wearing his usual white linen shirt, a dark brown topcoat, buckskin pants and shiny black top boots, Ambray Kelton was the picture of any proper English gentleman in the middle of the afternoon. To Michael, he was an avenging angel sent from the fires of hell to exact retribution.
“What guests? I managed for your dreadful party. I am still exhausted. I’m not well, Ambray. Now go away and leave me be!”
“Nonsense, Michael. How do you ever expect to get better if you don’t involve yourself in everyday life? Besides, this is a special dinner.”
“Special? In what way?”
“Special because you will be dining with a young lady.”
“No! Send her away.”
“The young lady is the one you’re going to offer for. It’s time to find a replacement for Katerina.”

The mention of the name sent a shard of pain through Michael. Instantly the memory of his wife’s fall from the balcony assailed him. He saw her clearly, grabbing at his coattails, flailing about those few precious seconds before her descent. With all of his strength he’d tried to save her, his arms reaching down, his fingers brushing hers but not enough contact for him to grasp onto. It was no use. The earl watched helpless as Katerina plummeted downward, her body jerking wildly only to land with limbs askew, eyes still wide with disbelief. The memory of her broken body would always reside in Michael’s nightmares.
“No, Ambray, please. I don’t want another wife! You can have it all—the money, the estates, all of it. Just go away and leave me be!” Michael struggled against his restraints with all of his might. It wasn’t the cloth bindings that he fought. He strained against the unfairness of a life that would leave him alive when his whole company had died in Spain, grieved at the injustice of circumstances that would leave a beautiful woman broken on the ground while his wretched soul had survived.
Kelton strode to the bedside. Reaching down, he grasped a handful of Michael’s hair and turned his face upward. “You listen to me, you worthless scut! If you don’t marry and produce a child in the next eleven months, there will be no money, no estates, nothing. You will be disinherited, you clod, and both of us will be out in the cold. And, Michael, I don’t like the cold.” His voice dropped low and threatening.
Michael remembered the long winter they’d spent together in Spain. It had been war, both men covered in blood and soil and shame. They’d struggled then, fighting not as cousins or brothers, but as one trying to save the other. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Ambray smiled. “Don’t worry, Michael,” he said patting the other’s face. “I saved you in Spain. I’ll save you now.”
“Yes,” Michael whispered. “I’ll do as you ask, Ambray.”
“I know you will.”
~ * ~
“What a beautiful table you set, Mr. Kelton,” Elsbeth remarked as the two women were led into the elaborately set dining room.
Mouse quickly made note that the Earl was already present. He was seated to the left of the head of the table. Eyes cast downward, he stared at a half full plate of what looked to be boiled mutton and a small dinner roll. Despite the arrival of the dinner hour, her host showed no interest in the meal before him.
“You’ll have to forgive my cousin, Miss. He cannot tolerate more robust fare at the present time.” Ambray quickly showed Elsbeth to her place at his right and Mouse followed suit by sitting to Elsbeth’s right, across from the Earl.
When they were seated, the wine was poured. Within moments the footman appeared. It was the same small framed man that she’d seen help the Earl at his ball in London. He smiled a hawk-like grin at her.
“Soup, Miss?” Mouse nodded. When he’d finished serving, the man stepped back to await the next course. Mouse was certain that his presence, and that of his enormous counterpart standing behind the earl, were there for more purpose than to serve the table.
“Please forgive my forwardness, Mr. Kelton, but why doesn’t the Earl sit at the head of the table?” As she spoke, Mouse’s gaze never left Lord Winningam. Instantly his head tipped up, but the expected expression of shock was not there. Within the blue-green stare was a hint of surprise and amusement. Mouse gave him a slight smile in answer.
“Mouse!” Elsbeth stiffened beside her. “Your manners!”
“Nonsense,” Ambray waved his hands. “An inquisitive lady is always a treat. Very simply,” he leaned forward, his voice a low whisper, “Michael was in Spain when his father died. He has never fully accepted the title.”
Mouse looked over to her host. He didn’t respond to confirm or deny his cousin’s statement. A long silence stretched out across the room. Mouse hoped the Earl might speak but he remained ever silent.

“I do believe we’ve had an uncommon amount of rain this spring, Mr. Kelton. Don’t you agree, Miranda?” Elsbeth stated loudly, drawing the attention back to her side of the table.
Mouse didn’t move her gaze from the lone figure across from her. She examined him closely. He was paler than she’d remembered him from the ball. His face a bit more gaunt, she thought, though it didn’t detract from his attractiveness. His dark hair and slightly stubbled chin only added to the air of mystery that shrouded him against her cool assessment.
“Yes. It’s been rather damp.” Mouse spoke without taking her gaze from Winningham. She remained entranced by his still form. As she watched him, a heated flush rose from the center of her being. At first she presumed it was the crackling brazier that heated her side of the room. A few more seconds passed when she realized it wasn’t the room’s temperature after all, but the quiet stare of Winningham.
As the pheasant soup was being served, the earl’s gaze intensified, leaving her breathless. All during his appraisal he remained stone still, reminding her of an ice sculpture. And yet, she wondered idly which of them would be the first to melt if she were to reach across the table and touch his cool countenance.
Before Mouse could consider that thought further, the earl suddenly met her observation with a slightly amused expression of his own. In the next moment he looked away again, his expression one of stoicism but not before he gave her a quick, roguish wink.
Mouse quickly stifled a giggle. Suddenly she was the object of attention at the small dinner party. Looking towards her stepmother and Mr. Kelton, she swallowed a groan.
“Please excuse me. I didn’t realize the soup was so hot.” She nodded to them, quickly taking a sip from her wine.
When the conversation between them resumed, Mouse decided that she would watch the earl no further. Instead, her attention went to the footmen who were now commencing service of the entries, filling plates with stewed beef and asparagus.

When this was done, both men stepped back from the table. Despite their host’s quiet nature, Mouse noted that the servants did not move very far from the earl’s side. In fact, the larger man had spent the entire dinner positioned behind him and within barely an arm’s reach at all times. His foreboding presence gave Mouse an uneasy feeling. The orderlies reminded her of gargoyles that had been carved above one of the French cathedrals she’d once read about in her studies. If she were lady of the house, her first act would be to get rid of those two.
“My goodness, Lord Winningham, you certainly are a quiet one,” Elsbeth remarked over her second glass of wine.
“You’ll have to forgive my cousin,” Ambray noted, tipping his glass of wine in the earl’s direction. “He’s been very shy of strangers since our return from Spain.”
“Oh, you needn’t apologize, Mr. Kelton. It’s perfectly understandable. War is such a horrid thing.” Elsbeth smiled warmly at their host.
“Oh, yes,” Mouse added, giving a smile to Mr. Kelton. “And, my stepmother knows quite a bit about war. She’s shared many discussions with quite a few military men before she met my father.”
Mouse quickly tipped her glass in her stepmother’s direction, peering over the rim to see the woman’s smile twitch slightly.
“You are most understanding,” Kelton smiled warmly at Elsbeth. “And may I offer my condolences on your late husband. I never gained the pleasure of his acquaintance. I’d heard he was quite respected in society.”
“Yes. Very respected.” Elsbeth’s smile thinned a bit more.
Mouse interpreted it as saying, ‘respected, but poor.’ The thought brightened her a bit. At that moment she decided to forgive her father just the tiniest amount.
After three more courses, a dessert, and the evening sherry, Mouse was glad that the meal was at last completed. Hopefully she would soon be able to make her bid to convince Winningham that she was

definitely not the material for his wife. However, sitting in his company her resolve was slightly less settled than it had been. In fact, she decided that she would miss discovering just what lay beneath the man’s quiet façade.
“Why don’t we take a walk in the garden, Mrs. Ellerton and leave my cousin and Miss Miranda to get better acquainted.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Elsbeth asked pointedly, nodding her head at the near catatonic earl.
“Of course, Mr. Horn and Mr. Mauler will escort them to the parlor and stay nearby. They are accustomed to meeting the earl’s needs.” He smiled and held out his hand. Elsbeth took it like someone had handed her a gold piece and the two then stood to leave.
“But,” Mouse stated urgently, “the earl hasn’t eaten a bite. Perhaps we should wait…”
He flinched only when she mentioned his title but otherwise said nothing.
“No, it’s all right, Miss. My cousin has a light appetite these days. Isn’t that right, Michael?”
Looking up at Kelton, the earl paused for a moment. When his cousin gave a slight nod, he cleared his throat.
“Yes, Ambray. That’s right.” His gaze went back to the space in front of him that had held his plate a moment before.
Her smile never wavering, Elsbeth leaned close and half whispered into Kelton’s ear. “Do you think it safe to leave them?”
Kelton smiled an expression that Mouse realized didn’t quite suit him. “It’s all right, my dears. My cousin was given an extra dose of his medicinal tonight. He’ll be as calm as a kitten.”
~ * ~
If the dining room was elegant, the parlor was absolutely breathtaking. The floor was covered with thick Persian carpets the colors of forest green, bordered in burnt gold fringes. The lanterns lining the wall were of fine cut crystal, casting soft shadows around the room. Ornately framed portraits of several Winningham descendants decorated the walls around them. Mouse immediately noted that her host didn’t favor any of the Winningham men. Fair skinned with an assortment of blond and brown hair, the bronze men stared down at her. At the far end of the room hung a single portrait of a dark haired woman that instantly drew her attention.

“She’s beautiful,” Mouse remarked, gazing into the prim face and turbulent blue-green eyes that stared back at her. Quickly, Mouse could see whom it was that Winningham favored. Turning, she nearly collided with one of the orderlies, who had stationed himself inside the huge double door entrance.
“Must you wait right here?” she asked crossly. “It seems as if you’re spying on us.”
“Sorry, Ma’am,” the larger of the two stated, “Master Kelton orders that we stay within sight of his lordship at all times.” Placing his hands behind him, the orderly stiffened his spine and stared into the distance.
“Well,” Mouse muttered. She turned from the posted sentries to her host. Smiling uncertainly, she seated herself on the divan across from him. Straightening her clothes she took her time examining him a bit closer. Though quiet and contemplative, Mouse could discern a hint of discomfort in him.
Sitting stock still, his hands spread upon his thighs, Winningham tightly gripped the fabric of his trousers as though holding on for his life. His remarkable turquoise eyes reflected the dim lamplight, but his expression remained unmoving.
Nervous at the thought of attracting his attention and yet unable to bear further silence, she began speaking.
“You have a very lovely home.”
The man only sat motionless, not indicating whether or not he’d heard her. His eyes brightened briefly, but his expression did not change.

“I said,” she repeated a bit louder than before, “that I think you have a very lovely home.” Mouse held her breath, unsure if she should speak further or not.
“Of course, compared to your townhouse, this place looks like a palace,” she said, her voice wavering a bit, even louder still.
“Miss Ellerton,” the earl began.
“Yes?” She asked, leaning a bit forward.
“Why are you shouting? I may be insane but I am most certainly not deaf.”
“Oh!” Her hands flew to her mouth. “Was I shouting? I-I am so sorry, my Lord! It’s just that when you didn’t answer, I thought perhaps… I mean…”
“It’s quite all right, Miss Ellerton,” he said. For an instant, his face broke into a smile, showing a warmth that she’d recognized briefly at their first meeting.
Without wanting to, Mouse let out a giggle and in another moment he joined her. The sound of their laughter echoed around the cavernous room.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’m afraid that I’m not much good at socializing.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he said quietly.
Mouse smiled again, a warm blush rising in her face. “You’re being kind, sir. Yours was the first party I’ve ever attended. I know I stuck out rather awkwardly.”
The Earl leaned forward. “I don’t expect anybody noticed—after all, they had me to gawk at, now didn’t they?”
Mouse looked up, surprised to see the bit of humor that reflected in his eyes. “Oh, no, I don’t think you stood out at all.”
“Don’t lie, Miss Ellerton, it doesn’t suit you,” he said, leaning back in his chair, giving her a good looking over. “And neither does that long stuffy name. What does your family call you?”

“My given name is Miranda Ophilia Ulenia Suzanne Ellerton, but my sisters just call me Mouse.” She blushed again and his smile returned. He had quite a nice smile, she decided.
“That’s an interesting name. Why such a choice, if I may ask?”
“When we were younger, I was the smallest. I rather squeaked a bit before I learned to speak. So, my sisters just took to calling me a little mouse. My sisters, Catalina and Merelda, have been calling me by that name ever since.”
“And the rest of your family? Have they secret names as well?”
“Oh, just Merelda. She was always so serious. Papa called her Miss Merry. No matter how he tried, he could hardly ever get a smile out of her.”
Her host smiled slightly. “I think Mouse suits you.”
“Thank you, Lord Winningham,” She said, her blush cooling a bit.
“Please. Don’t address me like that,” he stated harshly, turning his face away. “My father was the true Earl. I don’t deserve the title. Just call me Michael. Everyone does.”
“I don’t know you well enough to agree with you, Michael, but I shall do as you wish.” She nodded.
The silence once again stretched out between them and while Mouse found it to be most uncomfortable, her host seemed to revel in it. Looking around the room she saw the huge double windows that overlooked the sea. Beyond was a large balcony. Instantly, she remembered the rumor that he’d pushed his wife to her death and wondered if perhaps that had been the very place where the poor woman had met her end.
“I didn’t kill my wife.” He said quietly.
“What?” She barely breathed. How did he know what she was thinking? Silly fool! She told herself as the embarrassment slipped over her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Of course you do. That’s what you’re here for, to look at the poor, mad earl. It’s the question on everyone’s lips right now, you know. The entire ton wonders who I’ll do in next. Another wife,

perhaps, or maybe one of the servants, or even my cousin, Ambray. I’ve already told you, you’re a poor liar.”
It was her turn to smile. “All right. Yes, I was wondering if this was the balcony that your poor wife fell from. I hadn’t considered that you were responsible. All that nonsense about you killing her is just idle gossip. If you had, wouldn’t the authorities have had you interred, or something? I mean, you don’t sit down to dinner with murderers, now do you?” Despite her conviction, she felt as though she was convincing herself as well. “At least,” she added hurriedly, “I don’t.”
“Well spoken!” He smiled broadly.
Mouse smiled at his response. She noted how handsome he was when his spirit was up. Though, she saw that a hint of darkness always seemed to hide in his expression. He was not a man of silliness or pretension. Beneath his veneer resided a sadness that was so profound it struck a chord deep within her. So taken she was that when he spoke next, the surprise of his words startled her.
“Why did you really come here, if not to see the mad earl?”
Mouse took a deep breath. “I came to talk you out of asking for my hand in marriage,” she blurted out, certain that her face must be as red as an apple by now.
The look of surprise overtook him. “I’m wealthy, a peer of the Realm. Why wouldn’t you be excited about my betrothal?” His expression darkened a bit, “That is, if you truly don’t believe that bit of ‘idle gossip’.”
“Well, no. It isn’t you directly.” She paused a moment, trying to consider her next words carefully. Certain that she’d accomplished so much just getting him to talk to her like this, Mouse didn’t want anything to jeopardize their progress.
“My stepmother arranged marriages for both my sisters. While they are both financially sound unions, neither of them is very happy. I mean, one of them is paired to an old wretch and about to have their second child in as many years and the other is tied to a young skirt-chaser who does nothing but drink all day and spend his nights in

London’s worst brothels. I don’t intend to let anyone else choose my husband but me.”
His face took on a thoughtful expression. “Is it so unthinkable that you might choose me?” He asked softly.
Startled, she looked up at him. “Oh no! I mean, it’s just that we’ve only just met. I really don’t know you very well.”
His smile returned and instantly Mouse relaxed.
“That’s very commendable of you, Mouse, but I’m afraid it’s been taken out of our hands.”
“What?” Mouse squeaked, her throat constricting as if a noose had been dropped around her neck.
“My cousin is my legal guardian. The court has decided that I am no longer responsible to manage my own life. As such, he is acting in my stead by asking your guardian, who happens to be your stepmother, for your agreement to marry. If she gives it, and I am most certain she will, you and I will probably be wed before the week is out.”
“Oh dear!” Suddenly the noose tightened and Mouse jumped from her seat and began to pace. She instantly had the urge to flee.
Feeling the need for air, she turned to the French doors that opened onto the balcony. Stepping out, she gazed over the gardens until she could see the distant figures of Elsbeth and Ambray Kelton. She found them walking arm in arm as two lovers might. Regardless of how they appeared, Mouse knew the woman had an abacus for a brain. She was likely counting the money down to the last farthing, no doubt, that her stepdaughter would be worth.
Turning, Mouse leaned against the railing. “This can’t be happening!” Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she walked slowly back into the room.
Returning to her seat, she was about to apologize for her behavior when she noticed a change in him.
“Michael, what’s wrong?” Then she quickly added, “Other than marrying me, I mean.”

He kept his eyes closed now, not daring to look at her.
“You just went out onto the balcony…” he started. “I am sorry, but you must go now.” As he spoke, his breath came out in short, quick gasps.
Stunned, Mouse started to get up to leave, but another thought occurred to her. She turned to the earl instead. Kneeling in front of him, she took both of his hands in hers.
“Michael, listen to me,” she began. “I am not going to fall off a balcony, get shot in a hunting accident, or be run over by a carriage. I am here and you are not responsible for anything that happens to me. And while I don’t necessarily want to become your wife just now, it doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
He sat unmoving, his fingers closed around hers. When his grasp on her hands increased, Mouse had the distinct impression that he was holding on for his life. Relaxing, he opened his eyes and nodded slowly.
“All right, friends then.”
In the next instant, he did the most unexpected thing. Mouse would forever wonder what had been in his mind those few seconds that made him lean forward and very gently kiss her hand.
~ * ~
Later that same night, Mouse and Elsbeth had been given adjoining rooms on the opposite wing as their hosts. Seated at the dressing table while the lady’s maid braided her hair, the intended bride had a few questions of her own.
“Tell me about the Earl,” she started.
Dorcas was an elderly woman, who wore her gray hair pulled sharply back into a neat bun. The rest of her dress was impeccable, wrapped in black bombazine with a smart starched white apron. Despite the sharp edges of her appearance, the maid smiled warmly at Mouse’s questioning gaze.
“What would you like to know, Miss?”

“Begin at the beginning, I suppose. What was he like as a child?” That seemed a good place to start.
“Oh, he was as good a babe as you could possibly want, ma’am. Such a handsome and happy child he was. Loved his mother very much, as I recall. About a year after I came to the Winningham’s she passed on, poor thing. It was a terrible accident in a carriage. The young earl himself was injured and lay in bed for weeks. Very sad it was.”
“How terrible for him. I was twelve when my mother died. How old was lord Michael?”
“Only four years. Was the saddest little thing you’d ever want to see.”
“Was he close with his father?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. Mostly he was frightened of the old earl. He was a harsh one. Couldn’t abide much with children. Except for Mr. Kelton. Took right to him, as I remember. Of course we didn’t see how it was proper, him ignoring his own son for another child. Perhaps it was because he missed the boy’s mother so that he couldn’t bear the sight of Michael. That’s what we all supposed at the time. But, to tell you the truth, ma’am, nobody really knows, him not being an overly affectionate man. Very strict with the servants, mind you.”
“What about later, when Michael had grown. What was he like?”
“As I remember, he was a good lad. Always had his mother’s way about him. Quiet, for the most part. But, not from weakness, rather his silence ran through him like a river. Always there, always immovable.”
“And that was all before he went to war?”
“Yes, it was. He came back very changed. Such a sad thing, though I suppose there are many who were changed forever by the war. Lord Winningham was injured and taken prisoner. The news of it struck the former earl and in the weeks that followed he fell ill and died. I’ve heard it said that the earl blames himself for his father’s death.”

“It must have been very hard on him.”
“Oh, yes it was. And when Mr. Kelton finally brought him home, things were never the same. It was like the two of them changed bodies. Mr. Kelton was always distant, as I recall. Brooding. When they came back, he had changed completely. It was his Lordship who became troubled. Everything upset him then. He was never happy with the manse or with any of the servants. It was so unlike him to walk about in a fit of temper. War does that to people I expect.”
“How terrible,” Mouse muttered, remembering when he kissed her hand in the parlor earlier.
“Since there’s the possibility the two of you will wed, perhaps you’d be wanting to know how he treated his first wife?”
Mouse smiled. “Please don’t misunderstand. Before last week, we’d not ever met. I am a bit curious.”
“As you should be, Miss. Of course it was an arranged marriage. The late Earl had set it up when his Lordship was away at school. When the young Lord came home for the holiday, he’d found he’d been betrothed.”
Just like this marriage, she thought ruefully. “So they weren’t in love?”
“They hadn’t even met. Lord Winningham never spoke ill of the situation and he was a good husband to her. Better than she deserved. The earl was always very attentive. Not a skirt chaser, either like most of the ton. Lord Winningham took his marriage vows seriously, not that it made any difference in the end.”
“What happened?” Mouse asked, though she had pretty much guessed the answer.
Before they could discuss it further, an ear shattering scream cut through the house. Mouse jumped and Dorcas dropped her combs. When a second howl sounded, the noise between a pitiful wail and a painful shriek, Mouse emerged from her shocked paralysis.
Grabbing her robe, Mouse ran from the room into the hall, following the echo below the stair where she heard the commotion.

Running down the steps, she arrived just as the orderlies had subdued their quarry. Michael lay face down on the floor, arms and legs secured behind him. He continued to struggle against the orderlies but it was clear that his strength was quickly waning.
“Mauler, you whey-faced buffoon, let me go!” Michael then spit at the larger of the two orderlies.
“Take a care, your Lordship,” the smaller man commented with a twisted grin on his face. “You’ll be hurting yourself for sure.”
“Like you care, Horn, you old goat!”
Mouse tried to push herself between the tangle of men.
“What are you doing to him? Let him go!” Mouse yanked at Mauler’s shirtsleeve.
Keeping one foot firmly upon the earl’s back, Mauler stood up to his nearly six foot height. “Begging your pardon, Miss, but when his lordship takes a spell like this, it’s best to get him tied and into bed until he wears himself out.”
Mouse suddenly became incensed at the patronizing tone of the servant. “Since when do you run this household, sir? You let that man go right this instant or I shall have you dismissed!”
“Now, Miss,” called the other man’s voice from the floor. “We takes our orders directly from Mr. Kelton and none other. If you have a problem, I suggest you take it up with him.”
“Get out now, Mouse!” he screamed, “Get out now! I’m going to kill you both!” With that he twisted sideways and pushed all of his weight against the smaller of the two men. Mr. Horn was a second quicker, ducking out of the way. Deftly the two orderlies took hold of their charge and dragged him between them, the Earl howling like a rabid animal.
Mouse hesitated, weak with shock and fear. Could this truly be the man they expected her to marry? He’d been so different earlier in the parlor!
“Miranda dear, are you all right?” Elsbeth came rushing down the stairs with Kelton barely two steps behind her.


“Yes, Miss Ellerton, were you hurt?” The concern was clear in his voice but something about the way his eyes darted around made her even more uneasy.
“I’m fine!” She told them, trying to get her own emotions under control again. Quickly she folded her arms in front so they wouldn’t see how badly she was shaking. The Earl’s diminishing screams could still be heard echoing throughout the great hall.
“I heard the commotion and came to see what was going on. The next thing I knew those two ogres had his Lordship trussed up like a roasting fowl. It was deplorable, Mr. Kelton, just deplorable.”
Ambray Kelton was obviously shaken as well. “You are right, Miss Ellerton. I shall send for Dr. Winthorp right away. It is clear that my cousin is in need of immediate treatment. I shall see to it straight away.”
When Mr. Kelton had left to call the groomsman, Mouse turned to her stepmother. “I don’t see how you can possibly entertain the idea that man is able to marry anyone, El. You should have seen him. He was clawing and fighting like an animal!”
Elsbeth put an arm around Mouse’s shoulder in a motherly fashion. “I know it was distressing but you must remember how much he’s suffered, poor man.”
Knowing that her stepmother had no more sympathy for the earl than she had charity towards the poor, Mouse let out an exasperated sigh and left the woman standing at the bottom of the stair. Returning to her room, she dismissed Dorcas. After locking the door, she quickly put the candle out and climbed into the large poster bed.
Mouse had no intention of sleeping. Instead she concentrated on how she could refuse the arranged marriage. Short of killing her stepmother or running away, no answer came to her.
~ * ~
Michael came to himself again late in the night. A vague memory haunted him. He’d been lying on his bed earlier in the evening, when Mauler and Horn stood over him. He’d already taken the foul

laudanum, along with a healthy dose of peppermint to ease his stomach. Lost in a far off haze where even his memories couldn’t get at him, Michael was ready for the promise of a long, dark sleep when he’d seen it. The stirrings of flame, flitting bits of light from the fireplace. Horn and Mauler enjoyed their late night tauntings in the past and this night had been no different.
“Here now, laddie. It’s time for a bit of fun, now, ain’t it?”
Mauler stepped between them. “Eli, I don’t think this is a good idea, not with them birds present in the house. We can have our fun with him later on.”
“Naw, ain’t but a scramble we’ll be having. Besides, I hear that his lordship here has been holding out on his betters! Just think of the rewards we’ll be getting if we was to help out his nibs!”
“I don’t know,” Mauler rubbed his chin. “I never hear of him saying anything, other than his wife’s falling off the balcony or screaming at those Frenchies he fought in the war.”
In answer to his companion’s doubts, Horn gave him a quick wave off. Stepping back to the fireplace, he pulled a piece of burning kindling out. Michael watched dazed as the servant turned towards him. When the smoldering bit of wood neared his face, Michael felt the rivers of panic rising inside of him.
“No!” Michael barely breathed. The air sizzled as the heat of the brazier leapt out at him.
“Tell us your secrets, my lord!”
Michael meant to scream then, but the flames of a fire that had burst in his mind stabbed at him relentlessly. Suddenly he twisted away from them, rolling off the far side of the bed in a crazed attempt to escape.
He didn’t see the two surprised orderlies tripping over each other as they raced to recapture their charge.
In his mind, Michael was a young boy again, trapped inside a rolling carriage that had tipped down a long hillside, across a campfire and become suddenly submerged in flames. Michael felt his head

once again crash against the frame of the cab. Once again his mother landed on top of him, trying to protect him from the wall of fire that had engulfed them. The earl felt again the woman’s sobbing gasps for air as smoke overtook them. Michael barely heard the voices around him, thinking it was the villagers who’d come to his rescue and not Mauler and Horn summoning the house around him. He ran from his dreams in the same flight that they ran after him, out of the small bedroom and into the main hall.
The worst feeling of all had been waking up to his own screams of panic and looking up into the terrified expression of Miranda Ellerton. He saw her fear as well as her pity. Michael had tried to warn her, tried to call her off, to let her have a chance of escape from the hell that had descended upon him. He prayed that his pleas would not fall upon deaf ears, that in fact the lovely young woman would heed his warnings and leave the manse immediately. As they strapped him in back into his bed, he’d heard no summoning of the carriage and driver, no harried leave-taking of the guests, just the quiet settling of the house around him.
In the early morning shadows, Michael feared the worst was yet to come. He lay quietly listening to the manse settling around him. But the nighttime noises did not haunt him as much as the ghosts who inhabited his nightmares or the fear of what Miss Ellerton might suffer at the hands of his own mad imaginings.

The morning came, but with it no answers. Mouse awoke with a start, not even realizing that she’d actually fallen asleep. Ringing for the maid, she quickly gathered her garments for the day and within half an hour was packed to leave for home. Her hopes for an early departure were dashed when Elsbeth came in an hour later carrying a note from Mr. Kelton.
“Good morning, Miranda,” she sang out. Elsbeth entered Mouse’s bedroom already dressed in her afternoon frock. A vision in deep azure and bright canary, of the sun against a night sky. The outfit had a high, cinched waist and wide skirt that outlined her tiny figure. Her skin heavily powdered, her cheeks impossibly red, the matron appeared almost doll-like in the early morning light.
Although she rarely rose before noon, the prospects of Mouse’s marriage had left her stepmother in a joyous mood.
“Yes, El, what is it?”
“I’ve just received word from Mr. Kelton that his lordship wishes us to stay on a while longer so that he may be better acquainted with his intended bride.”
“What?” Mouse nearly fainted from the shock of her stepmother’s announcement. “Are you as insane as the earl? How can either of you even conceive of my marrying him? Didn’t you see how he was last night? He threatened to kill his orderlies!”
“Oh, dearest, Mr. Kelton explained it all to me after you retired.” She went to the dressing table and motioned for Mouse to sit across

from her. “It’s all very simple. The poor, dear fellow had the worst case of anxieties over meeting you. He gets that way whenever new people are brought round, that’s what Ambray, uh, Mr. Kelton says. It was just a reaction to having to impress his future bride. That’s all.”
Mouse stood up, glaring at her stepmother. “Elsbeth, you don’t understand, do you? I do feel terribly sorry for the Earl. I would very much like to visit with him from time to time,” she paused a beat, “that is when he’s feeling up to it. I simply refuse to marry him!”
“Miranda darling, you don’t realize what it is you’re turning down! He is one of the wealthiest men in the realm and your children will be raised with the highest of society! You’ll never want for a thing. Why, just produce a few babies and you won’t even have to speak to the man…”
“Elsbeth! How can you be so cold?” Mouse scolded, horror on her face.
Her stepmother laughed sarcastically. “Be married awhile, my girl. You’ll realize how easy it is to ignore a husband.” She looked away a moment. “What I wouldn’t give to have your opportunity.”
“Good,” Mouse shot back, “then you marry him!”
Elsbeth stood up. “Don’t you think for one minute that I wouldn’t! Unfortunately, my less than shining blood-line will never let me be more than a toy to the really well bred society. I know what is said about me!” She spoke harshly, her voice rising to a higher pitch. “It doesn’t matter, because I still have something those stuffy women don’t! I have my looks and my wits! They’ve gotten me by quite nicely!”
“I’m sorry, Elsbeth, I didn’t mean to imply—”
“You didn’t mean anything at all. That’s the problem with you, Miss! You sit in your library day in and day out and think the world will be handed to you on bone china! Well, I have news for you. Your father didn’t have barely a farthing when I met him and the only reason there is any money right now is because I’ve parceled up and sold most of the family lands.”
“Oh, Elsbeth, no!”
“Yes! So, here it is my girl, you either marry the mad earl or you starve!”

Mouse sat down abruptly on the bed. “It can’t be. I watched the accounts myself!”
“The accounts were a lie! Your father padded the books on a regular basis.” She paused a moment. “I know you girls don’t like me. You think I just married your father to steal from him. It’s not true. I admit I didn’t love him but I was quite fond of him and we had a wonderful time.” Her eyes misted. “I miss him terribly sometimes. He was the kindest man I’d ever met.”
Mouse looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap. “I am sorry, Elsbeth. It’s just that Mama and Papa married for love. That’s what I intend to do or I won’t get married at all.”
“That’s it then, eh?”
Mouse nodded.
“Well, I hate to do this, Miranda, but you leave me no choice.”
“What are you talking about? What do you mean, no choice?”
“It’s very simple,” she said, pulling a parchment from the pocket of her robe. “I’ve sold the townhouse.”
“You what?” Mouse felt a rage building up in her the likes of which she’d never known. “How dare you sell my home!”
“You’re wrong, Miranda, it was my home. Your father left it to me. It was his wish that until your twenty-fifth birthday, I remain your legal guardian. I have already had the necessary papers prepared. As of today, the thirteenth of April, you are to be married to the Earl of Winningham. I sent a dispatch this morning. Your things are on the way here as we speak.”
“You can’t force me, Elsbeth, I shall refuse his suit!”
“Go ahead, and you’ll be penniless and in the street before dusk.”
She turned, in a dervish of bright yellow and blue silk, and left Mouse standing alone in her room, the license of marriage crumpled in her hands.
~ * ~
Michael sat glaring at his breakfast of milquetoast and eggs. Elias Mauler was perched in front of him, stern look on his face, holding a spoonful of the eggs inches from the earl’s face.
“Come on, Lord Winningham. You must eat something.”

Michael didn’t answer, only turned his head away. He’d no appetite for breakfast. He only wanted to be left alone.
At least that’s what Michael told himself. Let the girl stay and marry him. He would be dead soon, he was certain of it. Then she’d be fabulously wealthy and much happier without him. The memory of Mouse’s returned and the earl couldn’t help but remember the gentleness of her . This woman didn’t look away in disgust or whisper behind his back. She’d seemed truly sad at his plight. Though he told himself that he didn’t care what she did, Michael knew better. He’d have traded ten years of his life just to get another touch from her. In truth, if Miranda Ellerton had any sense at all, she’d probably never want to come near him again. It was better that way, that the poor mad earl should frighten off the little mouse.
“Now, don’t you want to be good and strong for your new bride, eh?” Mauler said with a leering smile. “You’ll be needing a good bit of stamina for that one, that’s for sure. What a fine figure she has, hey! The kind of plumpness a man could…”
He never got to finish his sentence. Michael was on him in an instant. Though his hands were bound to the chair arms, the fifth earl of Winningham managed to jump to his feet, with chair attached, and throw himself onto his orderly. In less than a moment the two were toppled over onto the floor, struggling against limbs, furniture and breakfast. Mauler, on the bottom, swung helplessly at his assailant, but the earl was much more in control. They may have bound his fists, but they could do nothing about his teeth.
As quickly as it had started, the fracas ended. Ambray and Mr. Horn ran into the room. Between them, they literally lifted the earl off of his counterpart. Settling him well away from Mauler, the cousin helped the orderly from the floor.
“You oaf! What do you think you’re doing?” Kelton screamed at Mauler.
“Me? It was him! He threw himself right on top of me. He must’a bit me in ten places!” He pointed to the several bloodied areas on his shirtsleeve and shoulder.
Michael still struggled against Horn. “Leave me be. Don’t you ever talk about her that way you bloody lout. Ever.”

Kelton whirled on him. Grasping him on both sides of his face, he met him eye to eye. “Michael.” He commanded.
The earl didn’t move. For half a minute, the only sound in the room was that of his ragged breathing.
“That’s better. Now get him cleaned up.” Walking over to the bureau, Kelton opened the top drawer and pulled out a small vial.
“No, Ambray. I won’t lose my temper again, I promise.” He was shaking now. It was the green liquid. The one that brought back the terrible dreams. He would see Katerina falling over and over or he’d be on the battlefield with his men dying all around him.
“I am sorry, Michael, but we can’t have you behaving badly in front of the ladies.” In the other drawer he pulled a long strap out and wrapped it expertly around his hand. Next, he pulled out the tall, ********************************l funnel.
“Secure him.” Kelton ordered.
~ * ~
Mouse paced the length of her room for another hour. Her anger had peaked but not yet disappeared. She used every impolite word she could think of and invented a few more. If she could get five more minutes with her stepmother right now, she’d strangle her into submission.
Defeated, Mouse sat down on her bed. It was no good. She couldn’t ever really hurt anybody. Besides, she had to admit, the earl was the most intriguing person she’d ever met.

Closing her eyes Mouse recalled the warmth that barely touched her and how she wanted very much to enfold herself in it. The gentle firmness of Michael’s hand upon hers,. Even now, a day later, the memory left her breathless just thinking about it., Mouse had become suddenly chilled, a light bereft of heat. She’d sat still as ice, while when the Earl stammered his apology.
Another thought occurred to Mouse. Perhaps the earl had just been giving in to his baser, male nature. Or worse, Michael’s attentions were but another symptom of his illness.

“I can’t possibly marry him.” Suddenly she realized what she must do. Talking to Elsbeth would do no good. She must speak to Mr. Kelton. Surely she could make him see reason. He wasn’t looking at things through the account books. He surely cared for his cousin and would not want him in a loveless marriage. Leaving her room, she began descending the stairs when she heard the screams.
Instinctively Mouse knew it was the earl, but the screaming was different. This time it wasn’t the cries of rage she’d heard the night before, but cries of pain. Terrible, life threatening pain. Panicked, Mouse ran up the stairs and down the long hallway until she found the room where the sound was coming from. Throwing open the door she stopped short of the sight in front of her.
“Get out!” Ambray Kelton screamed as she entered.
Michael lay strapped to a long, narrow table. Both of the servants were holding his head steady, while Ambray held a large funnel shoved into the Earl’s mouth. Despite his cries and struggling, the cousin was pouring large amounts of fluid into him.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I am attempting to give him his therapy!”
“What kind of therapy is it where you tie a man and force ********************************l objects down his throat?” Mouse wouldn’t relent, but advanced like the fabled creature she was named for and faced the ferocious lion.
Kelton stopped then, pulling the ********************************l tube from the Earl’s mouth, he quickly thrust it into the hand of Mr. Mauler. In two broad steps he was beside her. Roughly he grasped her arm and propelled her to the door. “Clean him up,” he shouted to his minions as they left.
Once outside the room, he pulled Mouse alongside of him until they were a good distance away. Muffled shouting could be heard, but at least the screams of before had subsided.
Ambray Kelton stopped. Turning to face her, he grasped Mouse securely by the shoulders.
“First, I realize that you are new to this residence. I will allow that you have no idea of what is going on here and that you didn’t mean to interfere—”
“Interfere in what? Torture? Sir, I—” she began, but Kelton held up a hand to silence her.

“My cousin is a very sick man. He requires constant supervision and often forceful measures to keep him healthy. This morning he attacked Mr. Mauler. The bites were numerous, but fortunately superficial. We cannot lose Mr. Mauler or Mr. Horn or my cousin will be placed in an asylum. Where I can assure you, Miss Ellerton, his treatment would be far worse.”
Mouse was set back at that. She shuddered when she recalled the tales her father had told her about the hospital in London, the infamous Bedlam.
“Very well,” she told him. “I am sorry I interrupted you. You must know how horrible that scene looked.”
Calmer now, Kelton removed his hands from her shoulders. “Yes, I imagine it did. I do apologize for my shouting at you. We’ve been under a bit of a strain lately. And now with the wedding and trying to get Michael stable enough—”
“Mr. Kelton,” Mouse interjected, “that is what I came to talk to you about. My stepmother has taken the liberty of assuming my agreement. While I am fond of your cousin, I must tell you that this marriage is not to my approval. In short, sir, I cannot in good conscience, marry the earl.”
There, she’d said it. And to someone who would finally listen and take her seriously, she hoped.
He nodded once and silently motioned her to follow him. The two entered into a large study just off the main wing.
“Please, sit down a moment, Miss Ellerton. If, after you’ve heard all that I have to tell you, you decide not to marry Michael, I’ll not hold you to your stepmother’s agreement. Let me pour us a bit of brandy. I know it’s early in the day but I believe we could both use it.”
He turned to the cabinet, removed two glasses, and a crystal carafe of amber liquid. Quickly preparing them both neat, he handed her one and took the other. Not waiting for her approval, he downed his in one swallow. Mouse followed suit, though having never drank any spirits before, nearly choked when the substance set her insides on fire.

Ignoring her distress, Ambray turned to the large window and politely waited for her to catch her breath. When her wheezing had finally subsided, he turned back to her.
“Very simply, Miss Ellerton, I owe Michael my life.”
“And in payment, you want to find him a wife. Very noble of you sir.”
He held his hand up. “Please, Miss, let me finish. When I was very young, my mother died, and my father, a distant relation to the old earl, abandoned me. Michael’s father, John Kelton, Lord Winningham, took me in. In many ways, he became my father. Michael was like a brother to me. Everything they owned, they shared with me.”
Mouse could see a bit of reddening around his cheeks as he spoke. Clearly, it was not easy for him to talk of such things. The desperation was thick in his voice.
“When Michael and I went off to war, we served together. Michael received an officer’s commission, purchased for him by his father. I enlisted to fight and was lucky enough to be placed in his command for a time. I cannot tell you how many times my cousin saved our lives. Michael fought like the devil himself. I was moved to another division and lost sight of him. It was said that after he’d had a particularly nasty blow to his head, he changed somehow. He became frightened. We were told that a piece of flying debris from the cannon fire had struck him. One of the few surviving soldiers said he’d seen Michael become suddenly disoriented. He then ran off into the wilderness. A few of his men chased after, but soon lost him in the cannon smoke. He was found later that day, in shock but otherwise unhurt.”
“That was the official report, but rumors abounded. It was said that he’d turned coward and left his own men dying on the field. I don’t know if you’ve known many military men, Miss Ellerton. Cowardice is the lowest form of disgrace and deserting even more so.
“Of course, it was near the end of the war. There were still small outbreaks along the perimeter of the line. It was on one of those excursions that he was abducted. Whether by French sympathizers or just criminals, we never knew. After the first few days passed and no

word from his abductors, we’d thought he’d been murdered. It wasn’t considered unusual that officers were taken and later killed. Weeks went by and no demands were made. Quite simply, we’d given up hope.” Ambray turned back to the window, his back to her. Sighing deeply, he then walked back to the desk.
“When the letter came requesting the ransom,” he told her, “I quickly paid it. They kept him alive because of the family wealth but his treatment had been deplorable. Beatings daily, starvation, and his cell, if you could call it that, was a large hole dug into a hillside. He refers to it as his grave. They held him for several weeks.” He stopped then, looking down into the bottom of his now empty glass.
Mouse quickly dabbed at her eyes and looked away.
“We may never know all that he suffered. He can’t, or won’t tell us any more than that.”
“I’m sorry,” she told him, and meant it.
“I know you’ve no experience with war, madam, but I have. If that had been the worst of it, we both could have recovered. But, it wasn’t.”
“I see.”
“No, I am afraid you don’t. Michael had married just before we went to Spain. Katerina was a Russian girl, whose family settled here about twenty years ago. She was both wealthy and beautiful. Her father was a businessman that the late earl wanted very much to have in his pocket. So, theirs had not been the best marriage, but they were amiable. Thinking my cousin dead, I returned home, deeply aggrieved. Katerina was devastated. Though she didn’t love him, she was fond of my cousin. In our despair, we turned to each other for comfort.” He paused, breathing deeply. “I made a terrible mistake. One that I shall regret for the rest of my days.” He stopped, his gaze searching her face.
Mouse remained still. “You weren’t totally to blame. After all, you both thought Michael was dead.”
“That was no excuse. We should have waited a year or more. I couldn’t help myself. She was very beautiful, our Katerina was. After all the death and destruction I’d been through, I needed very badly to be loved. Of course, she missed Michael but they were never really

infatuated. We started with a small affair. Before we knew what was happening, it suddenly became very much uncontrollable. When Michael was returned to us, we were too deep in our passions.” Ambray returned to the desk, poured another shot of brandy and quickly downed it.
“That should have been enough for any man to suffer. My poor cousin had yet more tragedy in his life. His father had died while we were in Spain and three of our uncles were killed in a carriage accident. In addition to his war experience, torture, and an unfaithful wife, he had to attend to the duties of his title.” He glanced away from her again.
“We could not hide the truth from him for long. On the day he found us, Katerina and I had sworn to end our affair. Michael would not listen to our explanation. We argued at first, then we fought, and when Katerina tried to separate us, she fell.”
“So, while I am not entirely responsible for Michael’s condition, I certainly contributed to it.”
Mouse nodded. “A very tragic turn of events, I’ll agree. Obviously you both have suffered.”
Kelton nodded, “Compared to his wounds, mine are no more than a scratch.”
“What has this to do with my marrying your cousin, Mr. Kelton? You cannot replace one wife with another and make things all better.”
“No. I realize that. There are the terms of the old earl’s last wishes that must be attended to.” He sat forward. “In his will he states that at Michael’s thirtieth birthday, he must be married and have produced an heir. If he hasn’t by that time he’s to be disinherited and the estates and entitlements are to be handed to the Crown.”
“So that’s what this is all about, Mr. Kelton? Money?”
“No, you don’t understand.”
“Yes, I am afraid I do. You are no better than my stepmother, sir.” She rose to leave but in a few seconds, Kelton was next to her, preventing her from reaching the door.
“No, Miranda, there is more to it than that! You’ve seen his condition! I implore you to think this through. If Michael’s estate is

taken away, he will be placed! Life in a hospital such as Bedlam would mean death for him!”
“Agreed, sir. What makes you so sure he’d even be able to father a child in his condition?”
“I’m not certain,” he admitted, “but we must try! For his sake, if for nothing else.”
Shocked at his suggestion, but not as much as she should have been, Mouse put it baldly, “And just how do you propose to even get him in the marriage bed?”
He stopped a moment. His expression showed that he held a bit of appreciation for a woman who could look things straight in the face. “The mixture I gave him this morning gives us a bit of control. He almost becomes normal, for a while anyway. If we could keep him calm long enough for you to conceive, it would save him from death at the hands of the state.”
She stopped at that. Looking directly into his eyes, she could see that he truly believed what he said. Then she remembered the previous night.. She scolded herself. Why in heaven’s name had she let him touch her? A part of her became instantly excited at the thought of him Of him touching her…and more. She wavered.
“I am sorry, but you expect me to sell myself into marriage. I wish I could help you both, I really do, but I cannot.” She turned to go.
“Is it because you’ve no affection for the earl?”
Mouse hesitated. “My affection for him is not the question. He is ill, Mr. Kelton. Add to that, he has already been forced once into one loveless marriage. I fear that if he does recover, he’ll think I only married him for his money. A marriage of convenience, for both of us,” she stated boldly. She started to turn away when she felt Ambray Kelton’s hand upon her arm.
“Miss Ellerton, I implore you. Please don’t think of it in those terms. When Michael recovers, you’ll find him a fine husband. The practice of such a marriage is not so unheard of. I may not be a member of the same society you are, but I’ve lived most of my life with it and I can tell you, this arrangement is not without its value.”
“For some, Mr. Kelton, but not for me.”

Kelton let his arm drop, defeated. “Then, Michael will surely die, Miss. What little spirit remains to him will quickly fade.”
That was it then. Mouse knew exactly the instant when her resolve crumbled. If she chose to refuse, she condemned the earl to death. Mouse sighed deeply. She could not turn away when she might be Michael’s only chance for recovery. And if not, didn’t he at least deserve to have someone to carry on his name? Forget that her hopes and dreams were forfeit. She could not abandon a man in so much distress and especially not the mad earl of Winningham.
“All right, Mr. Kelton,” she said at last. She certainly couldn’t let the man be placed in a crazy house, now could she? Besides, she didn’t really have a home to go home to anymore.
There was a gentle knock at the door. When Kelton opened it, it was Dorcas on the other side.
“Young Jimmy’s brought your things, ma’am, shall I unpack for you?”
~ * ~
Michael lay quiet after his treatments. The mixture of the food and medicine left him bounding through waves of nausea and there was naught to be done about it until the effects wore off of their own accord. Despite his miseries, the earl had one small hope. The beautiful Mouse had come to his rescue, or tried to.
He’d heard her enter the room. The sound of her voice had been filled with anger and fear. She’d been appalled at his treatment and stood up to Ambray despite the consequences for the second time in less than a day. She was so brave and strong that Michael thought he’d fallen in love with her at that very moment.
Before long the laudanum began to take effect. The vision of Mouse in his mind changed and it was Katerina who came into view. A beautiful woman, with long, golden hair, she stood close to him. Her lips moving and she was trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t discern what it was. She was reaching out to him. Despite his restraints, he managed to rise off the bed and follow her.
With terrible clarity, Michael recognized their surroundings. Suddenly he and his first wife were on the balcony. Gripped with panic, the earl fought to grasp her. As had happened in reality, his

hand brushed hers but it wasn’t enough to stop Katerina’s fall. Time slowed to a crawl. Again Michael was struggling over the balcony, watching while the woman’s hair and dress billowed up around her.
Michael called out to her again and again, but those cold, blue eyes remained unmoving, her body twisted as she lay on the grass beneath the balcony, expression fixed in the unremitting stare of death.
Michael tried to reach her in his dreams as he’d once done in reality. As before, he couldn’t get to her because he was hung up in the trellis. Struggling against the mass of vine and wood, he remained suspended. Head pounding and vision blurring, he howled in frustration.
When his eyes focused again, it was not on the lovely Katerina. The form below him was a rounder, softer one. The eyes that accused him in death were not the sharp blues of his first wife, but a misty gray. The face staring up at him was round, surrounded by a mass of light brown curls. It was Mouse that lay beneath him. Michael had killed her as well.
~ * ~
Mouse sat alone in her room once again, caught between laughing hysterically and letting loose a flood of tears. She couldn’t decide which was more appropriate, so for the moment she did neither. Somehow she had to go and face the man that would be her husband but she had no idea what to say. Worse yet, it was early afternoon and he’d started to scream again. Not anger, nor pain this time, which was in itself a relief, but this time in fear. Mr. Kelton had told her that sometimes the laudanum did that to him, and they must simply wait until late evening, when the effects of Dr. Winthorp’s potions would eventually wear off.
Despite all of her understanding, Mouse’s nerves were beginning to wear thin. She decided that busy hands might help to settle some of her upset. Assuming that this was to be her room, until a bridal suite was made ready, she began unpacking.
It wasn’t long before she’d emptied her two chests and was putting away the last few garments in her enormous closet. Hanging the final garment, she noticed a small object on the far wall. Beside

the stack of hatboxes, was a brass handle of some sort. Jiggling the knob just a little unlatched the piece of wall, revealing it to be a door.
“What have we here?” Pulling the door open a bit more, Mouse peered into the darkness. She thought it might be an extension of the closet, or very possibly an anteroom that also connected her to Elsbeth’s room.
Just as she was about to investigate further she heard her stepmother enter the bedroom. Quickly she closed the door and pulled the hanging gowns to cover it.
“Miranda?” Elsbeth called out, in an impossibly high tone. “Miranda, are you here? Ah, there you are, dearest. Ambray just gave me the good news. I am so glad that you decided to accept the earl’s proposal. Now we must hurry and begin preparations for the wedding. So little time, you know. Mr. Kelton wishes to have the ceremony by the end of the next week. Of course, there are the guest lists to be done and we will need to hire the extra kitchen staff. Ambray just doesn’t employ enough servants.” Elsbeth mentioned numerous other details over the next few hours.
Miranda mused that one would have thought her stepmother was planning her own wedding. Well, with four marriages behind Elsbeth, at least Mouse could count on her stepmother’s expert advice.
~ * ~
The next days were extremely busy ones. Elsbeth insisted that Mouse had an entire new ensemble for her wedding day. Three seamstresses were brought in from London. Meanwhile, Mouse and her stepmother worked endlessly on invitations, floral arrangements, menu planning, and other assorted duties. Of course, the affair was financed by the earl’s own deep pockets. Mouse was not the least bit surprised when Elsbeth included a receipt of her own. She simply made note that it was but a small token for all of her labors attending to the details of the affair. By God, Mouse thought, the woman would charge patronage to attend her own funeral.
By the end of the first week, the initial preparations were set. Only one major ingredient was missing from all the excitement. The groom. In the past week, Miranda had not seen or heard from Michael. His

cousin had kept him quietly ********************************tered away from his prospective bride and all the trimmings of the impending marriage.
“Well, you do understand,” Elsbeth stated when Mouse had commented on her fiancé’s absence, “Ambray says that it’s better to keep the Earl isolated until the ceremony. I really don’t fathom why myself, but he says the less upset for him, the better. It will make him calmer when the guests start arriving.”
Miranda hesitated a moment. “El, I’ve been thinking,” she started.
“A sure sign of trouble,” Elsbeth remarked.
“Yes, um perhaps it would be better to just have a quiet ceremony. You know, no guests, just family—”
“Nonsense, dear. You forget he is a man of society. It would be unthinkable to not have his peers at his wedding.”
“But surely his health overrules polite society?”
Elsbeth looked up sharply, about to offer more argument, then suddenly changed her mind. “Of course. We shall ask Mr. Kelton. He would be the one to decide what’s best for the earl.”
“Until the wedding, El. Then, I will be the one to decide what’s best for him.”
Elsbeth laughed. “Whatever do you mean, Miranda? Surely Mr. Kelton is best suited to be his caretaker. After all, he’s had his charge for two years now.”
“I mean no disrespect. I’ve been doing a bit of reading. Binding his arms and keeping those two brutes around to bully him does not seem to be helping him. If anything, they’re making matters worse.”
“I wouldn’t know about that, but the Earl is under the care of a physician.”
“Papa was a physician and he never tied his patients. Look at him, he’s all bruised and battered from the rough treatment.”
“I don’t mean to contradict you,” she said in a tone that meant exactly the opposite, “But your father, God rest his soul, was more of a goat doctor than a human doctor. Michael is receiving the best of care and we should not interfere.”
Mouse remained silent. She didn’t intend to further argue the matter. In less than a week she and Michael would be married and her stepmother would be gone. As for Mr. Kelton, he was another matter.

He’d been responsible for Michael long enough. She didn’t doubt his intentions, just his methods. Mouse decided that she would assume the care for her husband as soon as possible. For now, she would let things be.
~ * ~
In the end, and after much persuasion, Mouse was able to have her own way. The only attendants at her wedding were her sisters, their husbands, her stepmother, Mr. Kelton, the house staff, and Dr. Winthorp. The doctor was a balding, over-fifty gentleman, who remained quiet and reserved throughout the festivities, giving mind that he was attending a funeral rather than the joyous occasion of a wedding.
Mouse was inclined to agree. Despite the company of her sisters, which always lightened her mood, she couldn’t dispel the feelings of dread that were building up inside her. Worse yet, Michael stood woodenly at her side. Mouse was certain this was due to Dr. Winthorp plying him with more laudanum. Though, how her husband could possibly take more of the substance and remain standing was beyond her.
The only response he gave to the gathering was during the reception after the vows.
“He is devilishly handsome,” Cat remarked while they were in the receiving line.
“I’ve seen better corpses,” Merry stated astutely, not bothering to lower her tone.
Michael’s pallor reddened a bit at her sister’s statement. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Lady Throckmorton.”
“I don’t understand,” she told Ambray afterwards when they were about to share an evening cordial. “We’re married. Michael and I should be together. Isn’t that how it’s done?” Ambray had given instructions to Mr. Mauler to take the Earl to his rooms.
Elsbeth laughed, “See, the girl knows a few things after all.” She raised her glass and nodded to Mouse.
Mouse didn’t answer, trying to force down the heat that overcame her.

“Of course, normally that would be the course,” Ambray stated, “but, tonight with the stress of the ceremony, Michael needs to rest and we need to adjust his medicines a bit more.”
Mouse would not let matters lie. “Michael has barely said a word all day. Have you considered, Ambray, that perhaps he’s had a bit too much of Dr. Winthorp’s potions?”
Ambray’s expression tightened, and for a moment he looked about to strike Mouse. Instead, he breathed a couple of sharp breaths and readjusted his manner. “I understand your concern, cousin. Dr. Winthorp has been treating Michael for two years. Believe me when I say that your husband is much improved under the doctor’s care.”
Nodding, Ambray motioned the orderlies to continue.
Both men stepped forward to grasp Michael’s arms.
“It’ll be all right,” Michael assured her. But the trace of sadness that dulled his expression told Mouse otherwise. He said nothing when the orderlies led him out.
Still staring at the space now empty of her husband, Mouse remarked, “Pardon me, Ambray, if I have spoken out of turn. I meant no disrespect.”
“I understand, Miranda. We shall all endeavor to take the best care of Michael.”
“I am so glad to hear you say that.” And she was, but she wasn’t quite sure she believed him. “It’s just that I need for him to trust me. How can we work for that trust if we are not together. You do understand that, don’t you?”
“Of course, Miranda.” His smile never wavered.
Mouse relaxed slightly. “Thank you, Ambray. I know you have labored hard these past years, at the forfeit of your own life.”
“I’ve not much prospects at the moment.”
“Have you never considered seeking a wife yourself?”
“I’m afraid marriage is not for me. I’m a confirmed bachelor. If this marriage makes Michael well and happy, I am all the gladder for it. Good night, Miranda.”
Ambray then leaned forward, planting a small, chaste kiss on Miranda’s forehead.

“Good night, cousin.” She nodded to her stepmother. As she left Elsbeth and her new relation to themselves, she couldn’t help but feel their eyes watching her. Of course, she’d been suspicious of Ambray from the beginning. It was easy to see that he did not want to relinquish control of Michael very easily. Very well, she told herself, be patient. Mouse returned to her own room to spend her wedding night alone.
~ * ~
Later that same night Ambray sat alone in his study, still dressed in his wedding suit and staring at his half empty glass of brandy, as though the answers to all of his desires lay at the bottom of the liqueur.
“Well, what did the General’s letter say that has you all a scramble?” Elsbeth asked, as she poured herself another shot. The late hour and strong drink only added brilliance to her expression. Her blood red silks matched the high color of her cheeks, even in the late night lantern light.
Ambray looked up at her sharply. “He says that I am to take great care with Michael. The old goat has managed to maneuver his solicitors into vying for changes in the former earl’s will of all things. Says we can delay the demands for Michael’s heir due to his ill health indefinitely.”
“That’s certainly good news, isn’t it? I mean, if he is too sick to make any children we’d be in a real stall, wouldn’t we? It was a distant gamble at best?”
“It was. Still, I had hoped for some control of the situation. With this development, it gives us more time, but that could also be a detriment as well.”
“How so?”
“It could give Michael time to recover. To truly recover. I don’t know if you’ve noticed a change in his behavior since you and your charge have arrived, but I have. He’s more compliant, even cooperative.”
“And that isn’t good?”

“Not for Michael. He’s a fighter and always has been. It seems he has taken this marriage to heart. I may have to affect changes in another way.”
“Ambray,” Elsbeth cautioned. “You’ll leave Miranda out of this. I’ll not stand by while you push her off a balcony.” Her cheeks blazed with ferocity.
“You little hypocrite,” Ambray took a long drink of his brandy. “You didn’t mind using her to get you a place at this estate.”
“True enough, but I don’t want her hurt. She may be a naïve little chit, but she doesn’t deserve to be sacrificed for your cause.”
“Not to worry, my sweet. I can promise you that I’ve become a bit enamored of Miranda myself. In fact, it would delight me to no end should she turn her affections toward me.”
“You are a wolf among the sheep, aren’t you?”
“Never doubt it. Not that I would be fast to give up your own delectable attentions, either El.”
Elsbeth shook her head sharply. “You are a womanizing, detestable lout.”
“Ah, but you wouldn’t like me any other way.”
“No, I suppose not. What has you so upset, Ambray? Why worry about Wexley when he’s so many miles away?”
Ambray sighed. “Michael is my gold mine, mind you. Mine to control, mine to own. I want Wexley as a business partner only. If he is able to change the course of Michael’s legal affairs, what’s to keep him from having me removed as his guardian as well?”
“I see your point. What are you going to do about it?”
“For one, we must keep Michael unwell. If he is seen to be heading towards health at all, it may be the very wedge that Wexley can drive between us.”
“And you think that Miranda may just be the healing poultice on the earl’s mental wounds.”
“She certainly could relieve a few of his symptoms. So, we’d be at our best to keep the two of them apart as much as possible, at least for the present.”
~ * ~

Just past midnight, Mouse first heard the distant voice. It was a calling of some sort. Just at the edge of her senses, she could not make out the words. Climbing out of bed, she went to the ************************************************************ **** Someone was lurking beyond the west wall. Not a tall man, but thin and gangly, as best she could tell. The troubled sky was barely illuminated by a quarter moon. When the minimal light became apparent again, the figure was gone. Was it a trick of her eyes, or a real person? There was only one thing Mouse knew for certain. The stranger had been standing beneath the window of Michael’s room.

Mouse arrived at breakfast the next morning ready to tell Ambray of the stranger she thought she’d seen previous night. As usual, the table was elaborately set, with a full sideboard of pastries, poached eggs, ham and an assortment of fruit jellies. Before she could enlighten him, Ambray cleared his throat and delivered distressing news of his own.
“I’m afraid, dearest, we are going to have to increase Michael’s medicine once again.” He told her over morning tea.
“Increase it? Why? I thought he behaved very well yesterday. In fact, his speech was slurring during the vows and I was hoping that we could cut it down.” Mouse commented, momentarily forgetting about the midnight visitor.
“Michael escaped the orderlies late last night. It was shortly after midnight. Deuce, if I know how he slipped his restraints. Made it as far as the front door. No, Miranda, we can’t have him running about. He’ll end up hurting himself.”
“Perhaps if I stayed with him,” she began, hopefully.
“No. That won’t be possible. I couldn’t bear it and neither could he if he accidentally hurt you, dear one. The nights are his worst possible time, you know. All of his past tortures come back to haunt him. Dreadful thing, I’m afraid.”
“Oh,” she whispered. Mouse tried to quell the rise of her suspicions. “If I might be so bold, Ambray,” she began, “how am I to get with child, if we don’t spend any time together?”

He looked up sharply, surprised at her bluntness. A thin smile spread over his face. “Of course, dear, we must see to it that the two of you get together, eventually. I’ve corresponded with my legal council in London and he informs me that since Michael is under a physician’s care, we may be able to extend the requirements allotted by his father’s will to give us a bit more time if his condition worsens. Be patient, Miranda. It will all work out.”
Mouse nodded absently. For the briefest moment she felt the doors of a trap closing. After all, what proof did she have that any of what Ambray had been telling her was the truth? She scoffed inwardly at such foolish thoughts. What would he have to gain by lying to her? And yet, she couldn’t help the feeling that her husband’s cousin was not being completely truthful with her. She may have been raised in the country, but she certainly knew the difference between a hen and a rooster. And this rooster was cockier than most.
~ * ~
So it was, the first month. Mouse did talk Ambray into allowing her to spend an occasional afternoon with Michael, though. She quickly learned that he enjoyed being read to.
“Can’t read much,” he told her in one of his more lucid moments. “Ambray’s damn potion makes my eyes blur.”
“Well then,” she promised him one afternoon, “just tell me what you’d prefer and I’ll read it to you. When you become tired, we’ll rest.”
“You pick something from the library, Mouse. Anything would be better than the flat nothingness of this room.”
Mouse thought a moment. “I can have one of your strong-arms drag that old piano in here,” she started.
“No!” Michael said sharply. Seeing her instant distress he swallowed hard and lowered his voice. “Perhaps another one can be purchased. That one is not in good repair.”
“Oh,” Mouse said quietly. Chewing her lip, she leaned a bit closer. “Is there another reason, Michael? You can tell me, you know. I won’t tell a soul.”
He looked at her for a moment, then over to where Mauler and Horn were engaged in a card game on the other side of the room.

“It belonged to my mother,” he whispered. “No one here knows that. If they did, they would surely destroy it.”
“Why?” Mouse looked at him curiously. Was this paranoia part of his sickness?
Michael looked about to answer, but then Ambray entered the room. His cheerful attitude exceeded more frivolity than usual.
“Hello, my dears. How is our visit going?” Ambray asked amiably.
Mouse waited a moment. When her husband did not answer, she cleared her throat. “Very nicely, Ambray. Michael and I were just choosing which book we were going to take from the library. I’ve decided to further my education a bit. Michael is so gracious. He’s going to allow me to read with him on our afternoons together.”
“That sounds perfectly wonderful. I’m afraid you will have to change your plans for this afternoon, though. Dr. Winthorp is here to see to Michael. Elsbeth just returned from the village. I swear she’s filled the carriage with piles of material and dress patterns. Young Jimmy went along and he looks nearly done in. Would you mind helping her get her things settled?”
Mouse did mind very much, but she only smiled pleasantly. “Of course, Ambray. I’d be delighted.” Standing, she quickly placed a light kiss on Michael’s forehead and whispered, “I’ll be back tomorrow, darling.”
~ * ~
“It seems married life suits you,” Ambray said, a sharp edge to his tone.
Michael shrugged. “I suppose.”
Ambray nodded. “If you keep up the way you’re going, it’ll be no time at all before the two of you can get to the business of marriage.”
“Whatever you think is best, Ambray. I’m a bit tired. Tell Dr. Winthorp to go and come back another time, will you?”
Ambray’s eyes narrowed. “It’s no good, Michael,” he said in a quiet voice.
“I don’t know what you mean, cousin. I just said I was tired. That’s all.”

“You need to be examined, Michael. And then there’s the treatment. Drawing your blood has helped you considerably, you must admit.”
“It’s made me tired and less able to protect myself from the hellhounds over there, if that’s what you mean.”
“But, you’ve not lost your temper once since we resumed, now have you?”
“No.” He answered quietly, defeated. “It doesn’t matter, does it Ambray? You will allow the leech in here, no matter what I have to say about it.”
~ * ~
Later that night, Mouse escaped from her stepmother. Complaining of headache, she returned to her room. The week previously she had made another discovery. The hidden door in the back of the closet led into an inner series of hallways. Realizing that it must have been the servants’ entrance from earlier days, she began every night exploring the passage until she had found the way that led to Michael’s room.
Quietly Mouse let herself into Michael’s bedroom. With the curtains drawn, the light of the early summer evening was almost totally blacked out. Good, she thought. It meant there was less chance of her being discovered. Carefully, she slipped over to where the door stood ajar. Mr. Mauler was alone in the outer room, a rumbling snore coming from his direction.
Careful not to make any noise, she gently pushed the door closed, and crept to where her groom lay sleeping softly in his own bed. At first Mouse thought it odd for Michael to be lying on his back, hands and legs spread out in a peculiar fashion. She quickly discovered the reason. The Earl’s wrists and ankles were restrained by short lengths of rope to each corner of the bed frame. Mouse’s memory flashed back to their first meeting. Stunned she realized that Michael’s dresser had carefully concealed those scars and she’d thought no more about it.
Did they tie him every night? Suddenly a dozen more questions came into her mind. Was Michael so ill that he couldn’t be trusted to

even sleep without such measures? What did he do that would provoke such behavior?
On closer examination, Mouse noted her husband’s sallow color. Despite Michael’s mistreatment at the hands of his caretakers, he was still a well formed man. The Earl’s lean, muscular body was evidence that he retained some measure of strength. It was a testament to her husband’s will that they’d not yet reduced him to a weakling. But for how long? Panic set upon Mouse like a house ablaze.
“Michael,” she whispered. When no answer came, she tried twice more, but kept her voice low for fear of being discovered. On the third attempt, she gently shook his left arm. Her husband only moaned in response.
“Michael, what have they done to you?” Knowing the answer, she pulled up the sleeve of his left arm and saw the marks left when they’d let his blood.
“How barbaric!” She whispered.
“What are you doing?” Michael asked weakly.
She jumped slightly at the sound. “I… I came to talk to you.”
Mouse watched her husband’s gaze scrutinize their surroundings. His brow relaxed upon seeing that they were alone. “You must leave, Mouse. If they find you here…”
She quickly placed her hand upon his mouth. “Don’t worry. They won’t find me. Your protector is in there snoring I’ve found a way to get in and out without being seen.”
He smiled then. “Mouse, you truly are remarkable!”
Feeling her cheeks warm in an embarrassed blush, she shook her head. “Not so remarkable as all that. I grow weary of them hearing everything we say. If we’re married, we should have some privacy, shouldn’t we?”
He looked away a moment. “It’s not safe, Mouse. I might hurt you.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I’ve hurt people before. People I’ve cared about, people I’ve sworn to protect. It’s not safe for you here.”
“I don’t see how you could hurt me, all trussed up like that.”

Michael glanced downward at his bound wrists. Tightening his fists, he turned his gaze back to her. “I don’t mean just now, tonight. I mean in this house, married to me. You need to get away, Mouse, for your own safety.”
“So, being married to you is a risk, then?”
“It isn’t a joking matter. I’ve already killed once—”
“No. Don’t say that. It was an accident. Ambray told me all about it.”
At the mention of his cousin, Michael closed his eyes. “We don’t agree on the matter. I may not have intentionally killed her but it was my hand that struck her down just the same, Mouse. I wasn’t in control of myself then, and I’m not now. So you’d best go.”
Mouse considered his words. It was true. Early on she had planned on abandoning him. Of running off in the night and leaving the terrible memories of her forced wedding and empty marriage behind her. No longer. As she gazed down upon the mad Earl, Mouse knew her decision had already been made. In a flash of decision she set the candle down on the bedside table, and flounced upon the mattress beside him.
“What the blazes are you doing?”
“I am sitting beside my husband, that’s what.”
“You can’t do this! Haven’t you been listening to me? Your life is in danger. Get out!”
Quickly she placed her hands over his mouth. “Do you want that beast Mauler to come in here?” When he shook his head slightly, she leaned closer. “Then keep your voice down. Besides, it’s my life and with you restrained, there isn’t much you can do, save spit at me. And if you do, I shall box your ears!”
Michael grimaced. “You are a very determined woman.”
“I am the youngest daughter of a country doctor who took great pains to spoil me while I was growing up. I almost always get my way. And right now, husband, I wish to spend some time with you, whether you like it or not.”
“Please don’t misunderstand, Mouse. I do enjoy our visits. I just don’t want anyone else to be hurt,” he said quietly.

“I think it will be good for you to have more company, despite what your physician says.”
He looked at her, grinning, “So now you know more than a physician?”
“Well, not more, actually, but I’ve been doing some reading. I think they are going about your ills the wrong way.”
“Oh, Doctor Mouse and what would you do differently?”
She thought a moment. “I would begin by stopping the bleeding, for one thing. All that really does is make you weaker. Besides, they might just harm you permanently in the process. My father rarely bled anybody for the problems that you’ve been having. Though, he didn’t have many patients with melancholia.”
“Really, why not?”
“Because it generally isn’t an affliction of the poor.” She smiled teasingly.
“I see. So what else would you do?”
“I’d start by listening to you. You should talk about what bothers you. It isn’t healthy to keep terrible things inside.”
“More wisdom from your father?”
“No. My mother, actually. They were a team, the two of them. I can remember riding with them on their visits. He would wrap a wound and my mother would talk the person into healing. Cheering them up, holding their hands, listening to their ills. Papa said she was like a tonic.”
“And so are you, Mouse. I feel better already.”
“Good. Now, do you want to talk?”
He was quiet a moment. “I don’t know if a lady should hear what I have to say. I’m afraid it would be too distressing.” He closed his eyes again.
“Well,” she gently prodded, “is there anyone else you could talk to? Your cousin perhaps?”
“No! I couldn’t talk to Ambray, not ever.”
“Why not?”
His smile returned. “You do ask an awful lot of questions, Mouse.”

“And you avoid answering them.” She waited patiently. Without knowing it, she grasped his hand, trying to give him some of her own warmth, her own strength.
“It would do no good telling Ambray, because he already knows too much. That, and because he despises me. I cannot give him more reason to hate me than he already does.”
“He seems very concerned for you.”
“Did he tell you that?” When she nodded, he sighed. “I suppose he would. It’s difficult to explain. He feels responsibility towards me because of the family name. Isn’t it funny, the one person who has nothing to gain from my inheritance and he is the one who works the hardest to keep the family title from being tarnished.”
“What makes you say that? I’ve never heard anything bad about you, save that you’ve been ill. And that certainly isn’t something you should be faulted with.”
He looked at her again, his face pale in the flickering candlelight. “Because, my dear Mouse, I am a coward. I have disgraced my family and ruined any chance of a future my progeny might have had. I deserted my troops in the midst of a battle. I ran and let them be cut down behind me.”
“Nonsense, you’re no coward. Ambray told me that you ran only because you’d been injured.”
“Mouse, Ambray lied. I’ve heard the accounts. No one mentioned my being hurt. Only that when the firing became heavy, I jumped from my horse and fled from the battlefield.”
“How terrible for you,” she said quietly.
“Not really. I don’t remember anything from that time. Dr. Winthorp thinks that I’m either lying or just blocking out of my memory.”
“Is that what you think?”
“Before I went to Spain, I thought I knew myself. I could name you a hundred times when I thought I would die of fear. One time I gave into it. That made me a coward. It cost me my dignity, my peace of mind, my father his life, my marriage, and very nearly cost Ambray his life. After I was taken, it was reported he led the search to find me

and was shot through the thigh. You’ll notice he favors his left leg a bit.”
“No,” she said absently, “I hadn’t noticed. Your father, you mentioned him as well.”
“Yes. When Ambray returned to tell him that I’d been taken and the circumstances of my desertion, he took it very badly. My father was an extremely proud man. He thought my behavior to be the wrecking of our family. That night, his heart gave out. He died in his sleep.”
“I’m sorry.” She gave his hand a squeeze.
“Mouse,” he began.
“Yes?”
“It is very nice when you hold my hand like that. I would like it very much if you would stay with me for a bit. I fear I’m about to drop off. Very tiring, all this talking business.”
“Of course, Michael. I shall stay for a while. When you’re good and asleep, I’ll slip out.”
“Quiet as a Mouse, eh?”
Smiling, she bent down and lightly kissed his forehead. “Of course.”
“Take care, my little pet, lest this terrible falcon swoop down upon you and devour your sweetness.” Without another word, he fell into a deep sleep.
Mouse stayed for another hour, as she’d promised, watching this strange creature that fate had thrust upon her. Deep in her heart, she felt the tiniest of glow when she gazed at him and knew something was beginning that she’d never known.
~ * ~
Hours later, Michael awoke. He’d heard the sound of arguing voices just outside his room. Through the haze of sleep he strained his ears, thinking that Mouse was still with him.
“Let me in, you buffoon!” A woman’s voice called out. It wasn’t his wife after all, but her stepmother.
“Mr. Kelton’s ordered that no one is to bother the Earl. That includes you, Mrs. Ellerton.”

“Nonsense. I wish to check on my son-in-law. If you don’t believe me, go find Mr. Kelton. He’ll make exception, I’m sure.”
With that the door opened wide, revealing the crimson woman holding a candle. The flickering light gave her a pale, ghostly luminescence.
“What do you want?” Michael asked coarsely.
“Only to visit my son-in-law. I am concerned for your health.”
“Concerned enough to visit me in the middle of the night?”
Elsbeth shrugged. “I usually go to bed late and I was passing by.” She continued to approach him, her eyes darting about, checking the darkened corners of the room.
“I catch a familiar scent in here, my Lord. Could it be our Miranda paid you a late night visit as well?”
Michael kept his voice low. “Would it bother you if she had?”
Elsbeth smiled. “Of course, not, my dear. You are married after all.” She set the candle on the bedside table. Michael noted that she was wearing a shear dressing gown, the scant lacing barely covering her body. Suspicious of her intent, Michael pulled on his ties. Being bound while this woman lurked over him gave him an uneasiness he’d felt with few others.
“Why have you come here, Mrs. Ellerton?”
“To become better acquainted with you. There hasn’t been time for us to get to know one another. I’d heard that you were ill and I thought a visit might ease you’re discomfort.” Like a cat, she sidled up to the bed. With slow, measured movements. That done, she leaned forward, smiling smugly, with every breath.
“I thank you for your concern but I am well enough. My wife provides me with ample company.”
“I’d thought that she might. As far as company is what you require, all is good. I have other things to give you, my Lord. I happen to know that there is a veritable feast of sweets my young charge has not yet bestowed upon you. An experienced mistress is far more desirable than a shy, bumbling wife, don’t you think?”

He nodded to his restraints. “You have me at a disadvantage, Lady Ellerton,” Michael whispered, though he was careful to keep his expression bland.
“I do indeed, my Lord.”
Suddenly the door burst open spilling light from the next room into the chamber.
“What the blazes are you doing in here?” Ambray demanded. He stormed into the room, his nightshirt rumpled and his hair in disarray from his recent slumber.
Michael relaxed slightly, his instinct telling him that all was not well between them. Elsbeth waved his cousin off demurely with her right hand, her left hovering mere inches above Michael’s thigh.
“I’ve only come to visit his Lordship. I’d heard him stirring and thought he might like a bit of company.” Elsbeth smiled, her leering gaze never leaving Michael’s quiet form.
“Get out!” Ambray’s voice was tight. “I’ve told you before, my cousin is not to be disturbed.”
“Oh, Ambray darling. Don’t be so stiff mannered. It’s a waste for him to lie here alone, night after night.”
“He prefers it that way. Now, leave.”
A few seconds passed while Michael watched them. He realized the situation had become a battle of wills between them. Finally, Elsbeth retreated. Her expression was that of an enemy who was not quite ready to give over the spoils of war.
“If you insist, Ambray. I shall schedule my visit at a more attainable hour. Until then, goodnight.”
Both men watched her exit the room. The flutter of her gown moving seductively across the room.
“Go back to sleep, cousin,” Ambray ordered. He quickly put out the candle, leaving Michael again in darkness. Once the door had

closed, though, he could make out the sounds of their voices just outside of his room.
“What the blazes did you think you were doing in there?” Ambray shouted.
“I was trying to do what you could not—to get the bloody information from him!”
“You stupid chit! He’s so out of his mind, who’s to say what he’d tell you! What were you going to do if you’d succeeded? Cheat me out of my portion?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! I was trying to help you, darling.”
“Or help yourself, El. I know the way that twisted little mind of yours works. Michael will tell me what I want to know in his own good time. Besides, if a month of captivity didn’t get him to reveal the information, what makes you think a tumble with you will?”
“You are a fool, Ambray. You’ve no idea what a woman can do if she sets her mind to it. Torture and starvation are not the only ways to gain a man’s confidence, you know.”
The voices faded away as the two left the outer rooms. Michael lay quietly, accompanied only by the sound of his own heartbeat. His mind wandered back to Spain. After he’d been captured. Questions. Endless questions, about his company, his superiors, his own life, his father. Michael had answered them to varying degrees, but never completely and never giving away more than the vaguest details. He knew the interrogation was just blind smoke to cover what they really wanted from him. He was not so much a fool to think he’d been allowed to live in hopes of a ransom. No. Another, deeper reason remained. It wasn’t his wealth or his patriotism they sought, but something far more dangerous.
He laughed despite himself. If only they’d known that he’d never been taken into his father’s confidences. Just who it was that dealt arms to both sides of the war and laundered his assets through the former earl was as much a secret to him as anyone else. He remembered the caves where the contraband had been kept, certain that his superiors would kill for his knowledge of the hiding place.
Michael could still hear the voice of his benefactor, the day of his trial. “Our agreement still stands…”

As if he should know just whom that devilish voice belonged to. The betrayer had not yet revealed himself, but he would. Michael felt certain of that. When he did, Michael would turn the traitor over to the authorities and salvage whatever honor remained to his family’s name.
Just a little longer now, he told himself. He needed to hold out a few more weeks, a month at best. After, he could die as he should have, months before on the battlefield. He could complete the task that the French had begun. The only regret that shadowed his thoughts was that of Mouse. He’d tried to warn her away, to protect her from the haze of disaster about to overtake them all. He knew of no way to spare her other than to convince her to leave. Mouse was a stubborn woman and so far he’d had no success. In turn it was she who’d played upon his heart, daring to give him the beginnings of hope. It was these thoughts which lulled him into a dull, restless slumber.
~ * ~
“I want to take him outside,” Mouse informed Ambray the next morning.
The two were seated at breakfast, Elsbeth having not yet risen. It was generally her habit to not join them so early in the day, as she preferred sleeping in.
Ambray looked up from his pastries. “Impossible,” he told her.
“Why? He hasn’t been out of the house since before the wedding. He’s pale and drawn. He needs to go out at least twice daily, weather permitting. When the weather is not permitting, he should be allowed to go to the sitting room or the library. Anything, for a change of scenery.”
“Dr. Winthorp has instructed us to keep Michael abed as much as possible. He needs darkness and a quiet, restful place. We have always done so.”
“Indeed? I am afraid my father wouldn’t have agreed with that treatment, Ambray.”
“Really. I was told your father was a country surgeon? Was I misinformed?”
Mouse looked up sharply. “No. You were not. Father’s practice was a bit more encompassing than just setting a broken bone. We

were rather isolated in Derry, I know. Small, country villages are like that. Still, I would think that a broken bone isn’t much different than a broken heart.”
“If it will ease your mind, I will consult with Dr. Winthorp and see if he will allow a change of venue. Based on your expert, medical opinion, of course.”
“I know you think I am being frivolous. I am only trying to think of what will help Michael. I fear he is worsening, growing weaker instead of stronger.”
“An unfortunate side effect of his treatment, I’m afraid.” Ambray sipped his tea. “Don’t worry, dearest. I’m sure he will get better soon.”
Mouse was not ready to be dismissed so easily. “I saw some marks on his arm. Is Dr. Winthorp bleeding him regularly?”
Ambray set his napkin down. “You don’t approve of that method?”
“Not particularly, no. How long has Michael been in the Dr. Winthorp’s care?”
“Since his return from Spain, two years ago.”
“Two years? And he’s still in this condition?”
“Miranda, are you insinuating that we have not taken great care with the Earl?”
“Of course, not. I know that no one has more concern for Michael than you do. It’s just that perhaps this Winthorp isn’t the man for the job. It’s possible he’s been leading you along. Or maybe his particular brand of treatments isn’t suited for Michael.” She cleared her throat. “I could write my sister in London. Her husband, the Duke of Sutherland, has a townhouse there. His physician, Dr. Kelly is said to be superb. He hails from Edinburgh. These last few years he has kept the grand old gentleman in good health. They say he brought my brother-in-law back from the brink of death. I think he might do wonders for Michael.” She didn’t add that having a twenty-two year old wife probably added to the Duke’s virility as well.
Ambray smiled. “If you wish, though I don’t think it necessary to discomfit Michael for a trip to town. Perhaps we can persuade Dr. Kelly to come here. Until then, I’ll do what I can to convince

Winthorp to allow the exercise. I’ll just have to make sure his servants are close at hand. We should start slowly, allowing that he hasn’t been out in quite a while. I think one hour per afternoon, three times a week will suffice, don’t you?”
Mouse was alarmed at the sudden agreement from her cousin. She returned the smile. It was a small victory at best, she decided. No matter, since she intended to take control of the situation by bits if necessary. She returned the smile. “Thank you, Ambray. I knew you’d understand.”
Her husband’s kin reached across the table and grasped her hand. Holding it firmly, he gave it a squeeze. “I am so glad that you came to live with us, Miranda. You have brought a ray of sunshine into this dull house. Michael may never know how fortunate he is to have you as his wife.”
“I have not done nearly as much for him as you have. The fact that he has survived this long is because of you. For that, I am in your debt.”
“Could it be possible that you’re growing a bit fond of my cousin?”
Mouse looked down at her plate. The truth was she was becoming more enamored of him each day and it alarmed her greatly. She’d hoped that once he was well again he could take control of his own life and she could be free.
“I am. For all of his problems, he has been nothing but kind to me. Perhaps I am hoping too much, but I believe he maybe be tendering some affection for me as well.”
Mouse glanced up when Ambray didn’t comment. Looking as though he’d just eaten a handful of sour grapes, he stared back at her. In the blink of an eye, his expression changed to one of endearment. “How very fortunate for you both.”
Mouse nodded. “We have you and my dear stepmother to thank for our meeting at all. I shall be forever grateful to you both.”
~ * ~
The first outing did not occur until two days later. It was all that Mouse could do to wait the interminably long time to get Dr. Winthorp’s approval. She cajoled, she paced, she lived in fear that he

should object and her small victory would turn into a huge defeat. At last she was allowed to take her husband out of doors. After lunch the threesome—Michael, Mouse, and Mauler—made their journey into the gardens.
Mouse had continued her nightly visits to her husband. It was during her visit the night before that the two of them plotted how they might be left alone together.
“Oh, Mr. Mauler, I have left my hat indoors. Would you be so kind as to fetch it for me?”
The man looked at her abashed. “I ain’t no lady’s maid, Missus.” He grunted.
“I didn’t mean to imply that you were. But his lordship is secured into his chair and cannot possibly get away. A proper gentleman would be eager to help a desperate lady.”
The giant of a man mulled this over. “I ain’t no gentleman either, ma’am.”
“That is not in question, sir,” she said evenly, placing accent on the word ‘sir’, “Are you making insinuations as to my status as lady?”
The huge man knew he was instantly in deep waters. “No, Lady Winningham,” he stammered. “I’ll go and get it for you.”
Mouse quickly gave him instruction on which hat to fetch, stating that it may be in one of several places, suggesting he’d better make a detailed list, just in case she’d been wrong about where she’d placed it. “I swear,” she told him as he left them, “that when late afternoon comes, I lose my capacity for clear thought.”
Mauler looked back at her, his lips moving but the distance carried his words away. It didn’t matter. Mouse knew the general direction of his speech and it was most likely not of a gentle nature.
Michael paid little attention to their conversation. He was busy looking out over the gardens. The manse was built up on a hillside, situated so that by the east wall, he could look out over the rise and into the valley. It was a breathtaking panorama for any visitor. For Michael, who’d not seen daylight for several months, it was paralyzing.
“Congratulations, husband. We’re alone at long last!” Mouse said cheerily

“It’s as beautiful as I remember,” Michael stated, his voice barely above a whisper.
“So my little excursion meets with your approval, my lord?”
When he didn’t answer she looked down to see his expression of sadness. A single tear slid down his cheek, shimmering a trail of dampness in its wake.
“Oh, Michael, I didn’t mean to upset you!” She leaned down, caressing his face. For a moment, he rested his head upon her shoulder. She gently wrapped her arms about him, holding him as he trembled. A raging storm of heartache shook him as he sat gasping in her arms.
Mouse was taken aback. No man in her life had ever cried in front of her. Crying was a woman’s habit. To have an outbreak like this showed the extent of her husband’s illness. Still, it felt awfully good to hold him.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered against her shoulder. Then pulling back a bit, he allowed her to use her handkerchief to dry his face. “I’ve never reacted that way in my life.”
“It’s quite all right, Michael. Considering what you’ve been through, it’s a wonder you’ve managed as well as you have.” She said waving him away.
“You know, it’s exactly as I remember it all. When I was a boy I used to go to the edge of that cliff over there and frighten my poor governess half to death. It’s only a short drop for a few feet beyond. Then it cuts away directly from there. I would always play like I fell to my death. Poor woman didn’t know what to make of me.”
Mouse laughed. “So you were a mischievous child?”
“Very. What about you, dear Mouse? Were you a hellion or were you mild and sedate?”
“Neither. I was the baby. As such, I held the highest status in my family’s social structure. Even before my mother died, I possessed the hearts of the household. Both my sisters bowed to my every whim. I always had the best and brightest ribbons in my hair; my sister Meralda made sure of that. Catalina was my second mother. Always fussing over my clothes and shoes. My father was the worst of all. He would stuff me with all sorts of sweet cakes. To this day, it is terribly

hard for me to pass over them. It’s why I always look like a stuffed hen.”
Michael smiled. Reaching out he grasped her hand. “Your appearance is most pleasing to me. You’re soft and healthy. I don’t prefer women who look half starved. While we’re married, I forbid you to wear a corset.” He said decisively.
Mouse laughed. “I wish we had met sooner. Elsbeth has been stuffing me into one of those dreadful things for months. I shall take mine out of my closet and burn it directly. I don’t know who it was that decided to enclose women in whalebone but I think he should be shot.”
Michael laughed out loud. Mouse was surprised at the sound. It was a rich, hearty laugh and she warmed to it almost immediately. She decided it would be her task to make him laugh as often as possible.
“You don’t think it was a woman’s idea?”
“Certainly not. Only a man would do such a thing.”
“Do I detect a bit of stubbornness in my new wife?”
“Of course, not. Just a woman who is a slight bit over her size, that’s all.”
“Ah, but only a slight bit.”
“For a man who hasn’t been around women in a long time, you certainly know the right things to say.”
For a moment he sat quietly. “Speaking has never been a problem for me.” Suddenly their lighthearted mood had slipped.
Mouse was instantly sorry. Not used to guarding her every word, it unsettled her to think that she’d caused him discomfort.
“Michael, I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s all right, Mouse. I’m afraid that I’m just not accustomed to all this fresh air. Perhaps you’d better get Mr. Mauler to come and help me in after all.”
“If you wish, but I don’t want to leave you out here alone.” She said, glancing back to the manse.
“Afraid I’ll push myself off of the ridge, are you?”

She looked back at him sharply. Such a thought hadn’t occurred to her. “Of course, not. If you entertain any such ideas, you’d best forget them. I shouldn’t be persuaded to forgive you if you did such a thing.”
He smiled again, “Then, I shall do as you ask. Your forgiveness is very important to me.”
Mouse let out a long, slow breath. Another victory.
~ * ~
After midnight, the demons returned. Michael awoke with the screams of the dead and dying surrounding him. He was back on the battlefield in Spain. He and his men were standing by the bank of a small tributary, listening to the sounds of the far off battle. It was but a few moments before the enemy materialized out of sound and smoke.
The sky was heavily clouded over, covering the landscape in oppressive darkness. The scent of oil and cannon fire hung in the air around them. “Raise your swords, boys!” He shouted against the wind. That was when the enemy advanced. Michael stood in his tracks, without horse or comrade to support him and took on the entire battalion.
The soldiers came, but they were no longer in the form of men. Tall skeletons on horseback, with sparks of fire where their eyes should have been came rushing towards him. His pursuers became demons advancing with the fires of hell on their heels. The sound of their thundering hooves beating against the ground became so loud it was deafening. Michael was soon void of any sensation save that of the vibrations of their attack, rattling him in every tissue and bone of his body.
“Retreat!” He shouted to the men of his legion charging into battle and hoping to cause enough of a diversion for them to escape. But when the advancing army came upon him, they slashed with relentless blades, cutting him over and over. Crimson blood flowed from his body mixing with the black sanguine fluid, filling a river beneath his feet until he could no longer move without slipping. Each time he went down, Michael struggled to stand and strike again.
No matter how hard they came at him, these skeletal warriors never wavered, never fell. With each blow they inflicted upon him, a

high shrieking scream slicing across his senses with a surgeon’s precision.
Suddenly weary, Michael could lift his sword no longer. At the cusp of surrender, Michael looked into the face of his enemy one final time. Draped in a hooded, black robe, the warrior raised his weapon. Instead of plunging the blade into Michael’s heart, the dark specter swung the hilt end of the sword viciously striking the Earl’s head, just above the right temple.
Michael screamed as the bone crushing pain assailed him and a red haze covered his vision. Spinning around with the force of the blow, he would have fallen except the piles of slain soldiers that held him upright. All around him, hands that reached up in death, eyes open and staring, and voices that cut through the sounds of his own bellowing. Horrified, Michael looked upwards, begging for mercy from the unknown dead soldier who’d attacked him. He was met only by the jeering grin of a long face.
With no other defense, Michael fell to his knees, amidst the blood, the dismembered corpses, and filth of the battle. As he wept, everything vanished and Michael remained, kneeling, with nothing for company but the sound of his own screams.
Suddenly, he knew how to end this macabre vision. In his right hand he grasped his own sword. Inverting it, he placed the tip of the blade against his chest and the hilt upon the ground. One thrust and he would lie among his company, finally at rest from the horrors of war and his own cowardice.

Michael lay in his bed sweating. Even now, months later, his lungs burned with the thick smoke of the battlefield.
“Then what happened?” Mouse asked. She was seated beside him on the bed. It was nearly midnight when she had stealthily entered the room. From behind the door, she’d heard Michael’s screaming and the sound of the two keepers who came in and roughly aroused him from his nightmares. Michael fought them as if the devil himself were chasing him. Pushing him against the mattress, Mauler pried open the Earl’s jaw and poured the green liquid down his throat. Sputtering and coughing, Michael slowly relented in his struggles. Fatigue was close to setting in before he calmed enough for the orderlies to leave him. In the end, it had been Dr. Winthorp’s tonic that caused him to drowse in the midst of his nightmares, alone, afraid and feverish from his terror. Fortunately for him, Mouse was but a few paces behind them. She quickly went to his side, comforting him as best as she could. Minutes passed until he roused enough to tell her the cause of his upset
“It’s always the same, Mouse,” he told her. “Whether or not I fall on my sword, I look up from my death and the scene begins again.”
“Why do you think you keep having this dream?”
“I suppose because I was a coward. I deserted my men, and now they are haunting me from the grave.”
“But, it didn’t sound like you were a coward. You ordered them to retreat, then ran into the battle. That certainly sounds brave or foolhardy at the least, but not cowardly.”

Michael sighed. Despite the wretchedness of his condition, a small part of him was thankful to have Mouse’s company. Her warm hand was gripping his as he’d related his dream and the soft solidity of it gave him more security than he’d felt in months.
“I don’t know, Mouse. I’ve had that particular night terror at least a hundred times. No matter how hard I struggle, I always fall, I always fail, and I always end by killing myself without dying.” He closed his eyes tiredly. They’d talked the better part of an hour but now his reserves were failing. He knew he couldn’t resist the tonic’s effects for much longer.
“I can’t imagine anyone who survived the war not having nightmares. There is something else that’s terrifying you, Michael. Something at the root of that dream that has taken control and will not let you go. I intend to find out what it is.” Michael closed his eyes for just a minute, the sound of her voice lulling him to sleep.
“Michael,” she called softly.
“Um?” he answered, but his voice was becoming distant and thick from the effects of laudanum.
“Tell me about the final battle. Not the dream, the one you remember.”
“Not much to tell,” he muttered, yawing. “There were some incidents early on, minor battles. The true fighting didn’t really start until late morning, I think. Bloody thing it was. Thousands of men fell. I was ordered to take my regiment to the south, to try and cut off enemy advances. My horse was shot from under me. We were about to be overrun. I told my men to retreat back to the main column.”
“Then what happened?”
Michael began to drift again. He felt Mouse gently shake his arm.
“What?” He asked, arousing again.
“You said that you sent your men back to the main column. What did you do next?”
“I took five men to help hold the main line. I was trying to give my company time to escape.”
“Yes, that’s just like you did in your dream. Then what happened?”

“I…” His eyes clouded over. Closing them again, he drew in his breath sharply. “I don’t remember.” He said at last.
“Michael, this is important.” Mouse leaned forward, gently placing her hands on each side of his face. Turning him the slightest so that their eyes met straight on, Mouse took hold of his attention. “Tell me what happened next.”
Michael grasped the sheets in his fists. He could see again the thick cannon smoke gathered around him. He saw the advancing army of soldiers, blades poised, guns firing.
“I ran, Mouse.” The pain of the memory rose to his face. Tears formed in his eyes and fell unrelenting down his face. “I stood in the face of a wall of fire. For a moment I was frozen where I stood. I thought for sure I would burn to death. A cannon blasted from somewhere behind me and when I looked up again, the officer who was leading the charge was bearing down on me. I should have stood my ground but something in me broke. I wasn’t in control any longer. I just ducked out of the way, slid beneath his horse and started running. When I turned to look back, the four who’d stayed behind with me were shot down. I don’t know how I survived. Only myself and young Joe Dawkins. I didn’t know he’d been severely injured in the first moments of the attack until later. He’d taken a bayonet to his leg. In the melee that followed, he’d been taken for dead. I was told that he’d died later from a fever. I learned that the remainder of my company was slaughtered, Mouse. All of the men I’d sent back were killed. If I had ordered them to stay and fight with me, some might have made it.”
“You don’t know that, Michael. Chances are you would all have been cut down. Ambray told me about those last days of battle. Thousands were killed. Surely you don’t think you could have turned the tide of such atrocities?”
“Perhaps not, Mouse, but I should have died with them.”
“A hero’s death, rather than a coward’s life?”
“It would have been better.”
“I don’t agree, Michael. If my father taught me anything at all, it was that men do not often control matters as life and death. Only God

does that. You are no more responsible for the deaths of those men than you are for the sun rising at daybreak.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” he told her, in a tone that spoke of many nights spent dreading sleep and fighting nightmares.
“I am right.” She paused a moment. “I thought Ambray fought with you?”
“Yes, in the beginning. He was reassigned the week before and sent to another regiment. They had been ordered to patrol and weren’t there the last day of the battle. Why?”
“Oh, I was just wondering why every one of your men died, yet he survived.”
“Fortunate for him that he wasn’t with me that day, I suppose.”
Mouse said nothing, watching as the tonic took over her husband. One by one the muscles in his face relaxed. Despite the effects of exhaustion, his expression softened, but he didn’t lose the haunted, gaunt look.
More concerned that his nightmare might return, Mouse remained by his side until daybreak, holding his hand and recounting the tale of his dream in her mind. When the sunlight started to brighten around the edges of the thick draperies, she had a startling realization.
If all of the men who’d rode with Michael were killed, how did Ambray learn of the particulars of the battle? Had Michael told him in some delirious state? Was he lying when he’d said he’d never shared any of his war experiences with anyone?
~ * ~
Two days later Michael’s condition worsened. Mouse was in the sewing room, helping Elsbeth guide the seamstresses reworking an old gown. While she was prone to the ostentatious, Elsbeth was always the picture of thriftiness when it came to her wardrobe. She kept pace with the latest fashion, which Mouse had never paid any attention to her entire life.
“I swear, Miranda,” Elsbeth chided her, “You’d wear nothing but a horsehair sack if I didn’t pay attention to you.”
Mouse admitted she was right. Clothing was always a bother to her. It meant primping and preening like some overstuffed partridge and she hated it. It meant corsets and stays and impossible fabrics.

She also had to restrict her diet, taking laxatives and purgatives to keep her shape down to the size of a stick figure. There were times, Mouse admitted, that she almost despised her sisters and El for their impossibly tiny figures.
They had just finished sizing up dress patterns, when Ambray broke into the room in full brace.
“Miranda, you must come quickly. Michael has injured himself and it’ll be at least two hours before Dr. Winthorp can be brought!” His blonde, soft features were flushed red, his breathing short, but that’s all that Miranda noticed as she ran past him into the foyer.
“Where is he?”
“He’s upstairs, in the parlor!” He answered behind her.
Entering the room, Mouse was stopped by the scene before her. The tables were overturned, the large, front window was shattered, and the chill April wind was blowing in upon them. Lanterns lay shattered on the floor and chairs were strewn about.
“Oh.” Mouse started, her hands going to her mouth. Then she saw him.
Michael lay in the farthest corner, both of his servants struggling to subdue him. They were tying some white cloth about him, ineffectively attempting to bind him.
“Stop!” She commanded and started to move forward but Ambray grasped her shoulder and pulled her back.
“Don’t, Miranda. Wait until they have him restrained. He’s liable to injure you, or worse!”
“But they’re hurting him,” she ducked out of his reach. Moving quickly she was at her husband’s side in less than a moment.
“Michael, please!” She begged, kneeling down beside him. “You must stop struggling.”
“Get away from me! All of you get away from me!” He shrieked, his arms grappling wildly with the orderlies. “You betrayed me!” Michael shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Mouse.
“Why? Why did you do this to me? I was beginning to trust you. I knew we weren’t in love, I knew better, but I expected decency from you.” He screamed again. Finally, Mauler got the final strap of the straight waistcoat in place. Michael continued to scream and struggle

against them. With his arms bound and the full weight of the two men upon him, it was wasted energy.
Mouse quickly noted the gash cut across his forehead and pulled the handkerchief from her sleeve to staunch the bleeding. Her patient soon lapsed into a semi-conscious state, mumbling and cursing at intervals. Moments later he was carried back to his own room.
Trying to pull the reserves of her own hysteria under control, Mouse watched as they towed him out between them. Once Michael was out of her sight, she turned to Ambray demanding, “What in blue blazes happened?” She wanted to add that only the night before he’d been the gentle, intelligent man to which she was becoming accustomed. Instead, she held her tongue, not wanting yet to sacrifice their newfound privacy.
“Nothing that I know of.” Ambray’s voice wavered just the slightest. “He was about to get his bath and his usual morning attendance. The next thing I knew he’d broken away from the servants and went screaming down the hall. He was shrieking—something about a mouse or rodent or something. When they tried to subdue him, he became incensed.”
Feeling her limbs go weak, Mouse collapsed into the nearest chair that wasn’t upside down.
Suddenly she looked up. “He said I betrayed him. Why would he say that, Ambray?” She asked, barely keeping an accusing tone from her voice.
“What? I’m not sure.” He thought a moment, “it could be that he was in such a state, he was confusing you with Katerina. Yes, that must be it.” Ambray knelt beside her, taking her hands into his own. “I’m afraid it is a very bad idea, having you stay here.”
“You mean leave him? I can’t do that! I’m his wife, for goodness sakes!”
“He’s becoming increasingly violent, Miranda. I’m worried for your safety.”
She looked back in shock. “Do you think he was coming after me?” She remembered what he’d said. Mouse, he’d called out for Mouse. “Oh, dear God.” She whispered, her dizziness renewed.

“I will have Bromley get the carriages ready. You and your stepmother can spend the rest of the season in London. No need for you to take any chances. You will leave this afternoon.”
Mouse was just about to agree, when a new thought occurred to her. “What if this is a sign of his improvement?”
“Improvement? That’s preposterous! You saw him Miranda. It was one of his worst episodes.”
“I know. Yesterday we talked for the first time about his experiences in battle. I wonder if this isn’t him fighting against his getting better.”
“What an absurd notion,” He scoffed, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.
“Perhaps not. Sometimes we hold onto our weaknesses because we are afraid of getting better.” She said slowly, remembering her own father’s struggles with patients. She turned, her decision made. “I am not going, Ambray. El may leave if she chooses. I’ll send for Hattie to attend me but I’m not leaving Michael.”
“Very well,” he stated soberly. “I shall have to make other arrangements.”
“Arrangements?” Mouse asked, standing up suddenly. Fighting off a wave of pique, she stepped forward and grasped his arm. “What arrangements?”
Ambray stiffened beside her, settling her hand in his own. “He will have to be placed.”
Mouse drew a sharp breath, as a shot of panic ran through her. “No.”
“You leave me no choice. If he were to harm you or Elsbeth, it would be more than I could stand.” Decision made, he turned to leave. “Dr. Winthorp has an establishment, over in Cadbury. I’ll go write the necessary papers.”
~ * ~
Mouse was near exhaustion. It didn’t matter, she told herself. If she could do something to turn her husband’s condition around, she’d have all the time in the world to sleep. Pacing inside the small closet that lead to Michael’s room she waited for the last of the medical attentions to conclude, barely able to stand the uncertainty. Something

had to be done and done immediately, or Michael would be shipped off within the week.
It was near to eleven when her husband’s room emptied of his caretakers. She shivered as she remembered the previous night’s visit with Dr. Winthorp.
~ * ~
“Hello, Lady Winningham. How have you been since my last visit?” The physician smiled a large, toothy grin. He had long wisps of curling dark brown hair that he neither bothered to powder or control. Although nearly bald on top, the remaining strands stuck about at odd angles from his head, looking as though he’d just walked in from a storm. He was so tall that he virtually towered over everyone. From their first meeting, Mouse, who wasn’t at all short of stature for her gender, felt severe intimidation every time they conversed.
“I’ve been well, sir, and you?” She answered politely, carefully pouring them each a cup of tea. She had never been overly impressed by his example of the medical profession. Mouse had adored her father, and she certainly had a good head for knowledge on the subject. There was no doubt as to this gentleman’s credentials. Still, Mouse found herself distrusting him. Something in his manner brought to mind the hawkers which came around the village from time to time, selling bottles of tonic and other miracles that had yet to be discovered by mainstream medical practitioners. Or perhaps he was one of those unscrupulous physicians who fed off the nobility, treating the imaginary ills of those with enough gold to pay for it.
“Quite well, thank you,” he answered, sipping his tea. His eyes never left her. Large, brown and twitching slightly, his great orbs followed her relentlessly. “I will be returning in a few days, rather than taking advantage of your cousin’s hospitalities. I need to proceed with arrangements to receive your husband.”
“I see,” she answered evenly, not wanting to reveal her own thoughts on the subject. “If it is an inconvenience, we could wait perhaps a week, or maybe two.”

He looked up at that. “No, that won’t be necessary. The Earl is a favorite patient of mine. I’ve long been trying to convince Master Kelton that he be placed.”
Judging by the man’s carriage, he was also concerned about the payment for Michael’s care as well, she thought. It rivaled the Prince Regent’s coach, she’d heard one of the servant’s comment.
“Yes, I can see why,” she smiled slightly.
“No doubt it will be a relief for you and your stepmother when he is no longer a threat to you.”
At that moment, Mouse had to resist the urge to hurl the cup of steaming liquid in his face. It would do no good to antagonize the man, she told herself.
“My cousin seems to think so,” she answered. Unable to tolerate any more conversation with the physician, Mouse hastily ended their visit, begging off with the excuse of exhaustion, which was not actually a lie. The past few nights she’d hardly slept at all for worrying over Michael’s being placed.
~ * ~
Voices from the other room sharply brought her thoughts back to the present.
“That should do it, Kelton,” Winthorp stated. He stood, wearing only a white shirt and brown trousers. Rolling down his sleeves, he reached for his vest and waistcoat.
“Are you sure you took enough?
“Well you know the old saying,” he smiled again as he slipped on and buttoned up garments, “two cups from a man, two quarts from a horse.”
“Ahh,” Mouse said under her breath, “he got it wrong.” She leaned closer, her doubts about the physician increasing by the moment.
“Still,” said Ambray, “doesn’t look to be enough.”
“It’s not wise take any more. He’s already fainted. Besides, we extracted nearly two pints the other day. I tell you, it’s too soon to be bleeding him again as it is. We don’t want to be killing him, now do we?”

Mouse listened to the long silence. For a moment she thought her cousin by marriage might desire to do just that.
“No. Not at all,” Ambray answered evenly. “Wouldn’t serve to have him dead, would it?”
“I thought not. I must be getting back. Things to do to prepare for our guest.” He said, waving a hand towards the prone figure on the bed. Without looking back to their patient, the two men left.
The room was dark as Mouse crept in. Lighting her way by a small candle, she slipped quietly across the carpets to peer out the door, quickly checking to see the others had truly gone. They must have been reasonably sure their of their patient’s safety for the time being, because not even the servants were outside.
“Go away,” Michael grumbled.
Mouse jumped, surprised that he was even awake after the ordeal. “Michael,” she whispered gently, rushing to the bedside. She’d brought clean linen and quickly removed the bandage soaked in dried blood from the gash on his forehead.
“Don’t touch me,” he said sharply, turning his face to the opposite wall.
“I only want to help.” Mouse eyed him suspiciously, drawing her hands away from him.
“Well don’t. I don’t need your help or anyone else’s.”
Mouse waited a moment for his explanation. When none came, she took a deep breath and began.
“Why are you angry with me? What have I done that has upset you so?”
He turned his head slowly, until they were face to face once again. “I have no anger with you, Miss. None. In fact, you are so innocent that you make me ill just thinking about you. Now, go away, please.”
“I won’t!” Mouse stepped forward once more, instant anger exploding in her tone. “You are the most insufferable man I’ve ever met. How dare you insult me when I’ve done nothing to deserve it. No matter how badly you behave, you can’t force me to go. I won’t do it. I won’t abandon you to your cousin or that wretched excuse for a physician. So there.” She stomped her foot in defiance. Hot tears

sprang into her eyes, but Mouse blinked them away furiously, not daring to give her husband the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
Michael began to laugh. A loud, hysterical sound that Mouse couldn’t decide whether it was from his mental derangement or halfway between laughing or crying. She only stood, openmouthed, waiting for him to finish. There was simply nothing else she could do.
Suddenly the storm of his emotions abated. “Oh, Mouse, you do vex me, you know.”
“Whatever are you talking about?” She cautiously set her candle on the table and moved to stand beside him, puzzling whether or not she should be angry or happy at his change of heart.
“Because,” he said softly, “of all the people I’ve known in my life, you’re quite possibly the only one who has ever cared about me. Really cared.” He looked away again, “Pity it’s too late.”
Quickly settling herself beside him on the bed, she turned his face back to hers. “That’s not true, it isn’t too late!”
His eyes sought her out in those moments, “It is, my sweet. Tomorrow or the next day, they’re taking me to the madhouse. I won’t live much longer after that.”
“It’s only until you get better. Surely you know that?”
He shook his head, “Those places aren’t designed for healthy minds, Mouse.”
“Nonsense, Michael. There’s an establishment in Kent that has the best of reputations. My father told me as how they’ve started new, innovative treatments. Moral therapy is what they call it. He said they didn’t even use restraining devices on their patients.”
Michael looked at her soberly. “That is good to hear, but I’m afraid Cadbury’s may be a little less than the renowned asylum of Mr. Perfect.” He took a deep breath. “That is why I must ask you to do a most difficult thing, Mouse.”
His voice had changed yet again. As usual, Mouse felt as though she was on some sort of whirling dervish when she spent time with her husband. His moods changed rapidly and were as unpredictable as the direction of the wind during a summer storm.
“What do you want me to do?”

“I need you to fetch something for me, out of the desk drawer. Hurry,” he prodded.
Cautiously she rose and went to the writing table. Looking at it a moment, she hesitated.
Seeing her pause, he quickly prodded, “Please, you must hurry, before I change my mind.” He waited a moment, then added, “What little mind I have left to change, that is.”
For a moment she thought he might return to hysteria. Opening the drawer, she reached inside, finding a velvet case, thick which measured twice the size of her hand.
Opening the container, she peered inside. “It’s a pistol!”
“What are you going to do with this?” She asked, her voice shaking, fearing what she knew the answer to be. “You’re not going to…?”
“I am going to end my suffering once and for all, Mouse.” He told her in a calm voice, “…and yours.” Pausing, he cleared his throat, already raw from his trials. “Just bring me the pistol and leave. I shall do the rest.”
“No. I won’t let you.”
“Mouse. You must. It’s the only way. I cannot stand to live like this any longer. It has been two years. Two years of fighting them, of being tied to a bed or a chair, of having my guts ripped apart by their concoctions, of fighting bloody devils in my sleep. I can do it no longer, Mouse! For God’s sake, don’t let this go on.”
The strength of his conviction rang throughout the room and for the first moment of their marriage, Mouse wished fervently that someone would hear and come rushing in to rescue her from this predicament.
“If not for me, then Miranda, do it for the money. If I die, you will be heir to it all, you know. You could choose any husband you wanted. Anyone of the ton would fall over to have your wealth.”
“How can you say such things? I don’t care about money.”
Suddenly the weapon became unbearably heavy and she nearly dropped it.
“I can’t, Michael,” she said, sobbing. “I can’t.” Turning away, she thrust the pistol back in the drawer, closing it. Leaning on the dresser,

Mouse gathered the strength to face him once again. There was silence from his corner of the room, only the sound of Mouse’s own heavy sobs could be heard.
“Go ahead and cry, my lovely Mouse.” His voice was quiet again, defeated. “It doesn’t matter.”
She whirled around. “But it does. It’s not your fault, any of it. I know if we could get you to a decent physician it would make a difference. Please, let me help you.”
He looked at her a moment. “How can you hope to help me? You saw me this afternoon. I can’t be trusted. My temper could turn at any moment. I can’t stand the thought that I might hurt you. I can’t risk anything like that ever happening again.”
“I know,” she stated, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “But if we could take the risk and you did get better, then you’d have your whole life ahead of you.” She looked down a moment. “If you could become responsible for yourself again, I won’t hold you to the marriage. I know that it must be unbearable for you being married to me.”
For the first time since his outburst, Michael smiled. “Oh no, Mouse, you’re wrong. You’ve been better to me than Katerina ever was. It’s no matter. If you wish to be free again, so you shall be. It’s the least I can do to repay you for all of your kindness.” There was a sad note to his voice, now, and Mouse thought perhaps that he might regret having to sever their marriage, such that it was.
“There is nothing to repay, Michael. I just want you to get well.”
~ * ~
The next day Mouse was on tenterhooks. Every sound sent her heart racing, wondering if it was Dr. Winthorp come to claim his next victim. To their immeasurably good fortune, a terrible storm had set upon the area. The wind and forceful rain made the roads impassable. It was a temporary situation at best but Mouse decided to make the most of it.
“Good morning,” she said cheerfully as she walked into Michael’s rooms, arms loaded with a breakfast tray filled with pastries and a steeping pot of tea.

Immediately she stopped. There must have been ten men gathered about her. Farmers, mostly, though she recognized a few of the grooms and grounds keepers as well.
“What’s going on?” She asked.
In the center of the room, Ambray’s head bobbed up above the rest. “It’s a search party.” He said, his voice, thick with sarcasm cut through her previously cheerful mood.
“Search party?” Quickly setting the tray down, she then circled around the room to see Mr. Mauler lying flat out on the settee. Beside him, sitting up and doing a poor job of staunching the bleeding of his nose, was Mr. Horn.
“What in heaven’s name happened here?” She gasped at the sight, though a part of her mind knew what had happened, or at least partly so.
“Michael happened, Miranda.”
Mouse looked up and was nose to chin with Ambray. His twisted, angry expression made her step deftly back.
“What do you mean?”
“You husband brutally attacked both of his servants then escaped unrestrained into the courtyard. I’ve pulled together all of the available men to start a search. Now, if you will excuse us…”
Turning away from her, Ambray quickly motioned with one hand for the others to follow. Mouse quickly saw the large rifles the men were carrying.
“You’re not going to shoot him, surely.”
Whirling, Ambray turned on her once again. “Shoot him? It’ll be a wonder if he doesn’t get himself worse than that. He’s attacked and murdered in the past, Miranda. Would you have us let him loose on the countryside to injure or perhaps kill more women or even children, for that matter?”
“Oh, surely you don’t think him capable of such terrible things? Yes, he was upset, but perhaps he had reason—”
“Reason?” Ambray shouted, his voice reverberated around the room. “That, my dearest cousin, is the problem with Michael, if you haven’t noticed. He hasn’t any reason. He’s gone berserk. I promise

you, not one more person will suffer his illness. The courts may have excused him Katerina’s death, but surely no other.”
Miranda fell back a step at his words; shock and fear descending on her like the sea upon the surf. “So you mean to kill him?” She asked, her voice cracking with emotion.
Ambray stopped for a moment, looking about the room, the same question echoed in the faces of the men gathered.
Taking a deep, calming breath, he answered. “No, of course, not. But we must protect ourselves. If possible, we will injure or maybe frighten him. I pray that no worse comes of it.”
“Of course.” She looked up, “I should come with you.”
“No. It wouldn’t be safe. Besides, you need to stay here, to complete the arrangements—” He looked up then. “I’d forgotten, cousin. You surely don’t know—”
She turned her head, seeing every other man in the room drop his eyes to the floor.
Fear took hold of her arm grasping her in an iron fist. “Don’t know what?”
Ambray stood for a moment, unmoving, barely breathing. “The upstairs maid found Elsbeth…” he stopped, his voice low, quiet. It didn’t matter. No one in the room dared to make a noise. “Your stepmother is dead. By all appearances, she was strangled in her sleep.”

An icy hand touched Mouse’s face. Startled awake, she jumped from her warm cocoon of blankets and fell from the makeshift cot, arms and legs all in a tangle.
“What?” She asked, blinking against the bright light of morning. “Michael?”
“No. I’m afraid not, my girl,” Ambray said, his tone saturated with sarcasm. “It’s just I, your unimportant cousin.”
“Oh, Ambray,” She muttered, her head pounding furiously. “It is you.”
Glancing up, she saw his towering form glaring down at her. Her cousin’s usually handsome countenance was now beset by a tight, angry expression. The high, narrow structure of his cheeks deepened as he drew the stark muscles of his face into a scowl. In the early morning light she noted that his fair features were turning an increasingly alarming shade of crimson. He could have been an evil chimera, about to swoop down and seize the unsuspecting maiden. Mouse barely breathed. After the previous night spent with her husband, she was a maiden no longer.

“So sorry, Ambray,” she said, when she realized that her thoughts had drifted off for a moment.
Suddenly the door behind Ambray opened and a man entered with a gust of chilly morning air. It was Denton Quigley, Rosecliff’s grounds keeper. The old man clutched his hat between his hands nervously. Mouse had often observed the house staff reacting the same way when in the presence of her cousin..
“Where is Michael?” Mouse saw the older man exchange a furtive glance with Ambray, who gave him a quick nod.
“Right outside, ma’am.”
“Outside?” She drew in a quick breath, “But he’s so weak! He’ll freeze to death!”
“Not likely,” Stated Ambray peevishly. “Your husband is quite warm, I’d imagine.”
Rising and very, Mouse made her way to the front door. Pulling it quietly open, she gazed out into a scene that left her near to breathless.
Michael was warm indeed.
“Hello, dearest!” Michael called cheerily from the other end of a much overgrown garden.
“Michael?” Mouse blinked twice, not sure if the effect of her late morning sleep or some other mysterious condition had overtaken her senses. Before her, in a deep pile of mud and various other things, sat her husband. The ‘other things’ consisted of horse droppings, bits of waste from dead leaves and what else Mouse couldn’t possibly guess. Michael sat in the midst of it all, blackened from head to foot with a thick, foul smelling mire that assaulted her nose almost the instant she’d opened the door.
It was clear from his appearance that he’d not just fallen into the mire but had coated himself, in large artistic swirls. The mud was now drying upon his skin.
“Flowers?” He stated solidly, holding up a handful of sticks.
~ * ~
“I don’t understand it,” Mouse stated quietly.
“Don’t understand what, dear cousin?” Ambray sat across from her, his tea service set up neatly, while Mouse sat at the other end of the table, eyes downcast, her own tea and cakes untouched before her.

With her stomach still in a lurch from the morning’s activities, she could barely stand the thought of eating and managed only a few sips of her now tepid drink.
“That Michael is mad? What’s not to understand, dearest?” Though his anger had lessened from earlier that morning, the sharp edge of his sarcasm cut through Mouse’s defenses as surely as a well-sharpened blade could slice through leather.
Mouse looked up sharply. “But, he was fine the last evening! I mean, we talked and he seemed quite normal!”
Despite her determination to remain calm, Mouse fought an inner battle as well. Hysteria building up from within threatened to explode into a full fit. She knew instinctively that such behavior would not benefit Michael. She clamped down upon the urge to reach across the table and knock that irritating smirk from Ambray’s face. Seeing him as he was at that moment, she couldn’t believe that she’d ever thought him handsome.
Suddenly Ambray slammed his knife down on the table with a loud crack. “Of course he did. He’d been bled and medicated then. By this morning, our ministrations had worn off.” Suddenly his features softened, a cool measure of control returning to his stormy expression.
Mouse shook her head. Perhaps Ambray was right. Maybe Michael was really mad and she was doing nothing but aggravating the situation. However, when she recalled the night past and the gentle, quiet, the man who talked to her, she refused to believe she’d been wed to a madman. No. She’d not give in to Ambray’s insistence that Michael was not sane.
“I need to know just how it was that you found him when the entire village searched through the night?”
Mouse looked up. “It was the groom’s apprentice. Tom Fowler. I met him yesterday morning, and he took me to where Michael was.” Mouse sniffled. “It was late and he was ill, so I thought just to keep him there until morning.” She decided not to tell Ambray of her plans of getting her husband to London and her sister’s physician.
“Who? We’ve no groom’s apprentice here. Never heard of him.” Ambray stared down at her. “Don’t you realize what you’ve done?”
“What I’ve done?”

“Exactly, you stupid chit!”
“Sir, I—” Mouse looked up and saw Ambray move around the table to stand in front of her. Startled, she stood up to face him.
“I don’t understand?”
“Did you hear nothing of what I told you the other day? Michael was abducted shortly after his release from the Army.”
“You said he’d been held for several weeks until he’d been ransomed by you.” Mouse finished.
“And, he was abducted again yesterday!”
Mouse sank down into her chair. “You mean I may have aided his kidnappers?”
“Well, at least you aren’t totally bereft of your senses!”
Mouse sat quietly, a small tremor building in her. “He seemed like such a nice boy,”
“Of course, he would. Most likely, we wouldn’t have gotten his Lordship back, this time,” Ambray said, resuming his seat at the other end of the table. “Or at least, not alive.”
Mouse shivered at his tone. The thought of that young boy’s involvement in such a scheme was unthinkable and yet if he’d been an accomplice, anything was possible.
Another thought occurred to her. “Then, it’s possible that Michael had nothing to do with El’s death,” she started. Any embarrassment at her own folly faded as she realized the implications.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Michael was so weak last night, he could hardly stand,” she neglected to tell him that by the he fell asleep; no part of him was able to stand. “And, Tom, or whatever his name is, said he’d helped him to escape.”
“I don’t know,” Ambray said thoughtfully. “I suppose it could be.”
“Then, if you find that boy, you might find the true murderer.”
“Unless the boy killed your stepmother,” Ambray offered.
“No, he didn’t seem like that sort at all.” Mouse said.
“I see.” Ambray said tightly. “Yesterday you held the high office of physician and today you are a magistrate, able to discern guilt from innocence?”

“Oh, no, I meant only—”
“I know exactly what you meant, Miranda. I think it best, until all of this is sorted through,” he stated, throwing his napkin onto the table, “that you remain confined to your room. I’ll have your meals sent to you. Good day.”
Ambray stood up and walking to the door, called for his servant. “Benton. Please escort Lady Winningham to her room.”
~ * ~
Mouse considered refusing to be put off like an unruly child. Her own anger rose as the servant motioned for her to follow. For a moment, she stood her ground. The tumult of her emotions threatened overflow and she knew she needed time to sort things through. In truth, she knew that a confrontation with Ambray would not accomplish anything except make her look foolish. So, with an air of haughtiness she didn’t feel, Mouse threw back her head and left Ambray alone.
Returned to her room, Mouse didn’t speak to the retreating footman. She stood staring out the window when she heard the click of the lock falling into place. It was all she could do to keep from crying until the gentleman was well out of hearing range. Finally, when she heard no movement outside her door and she could no longer hold back the torrent of emotions, she let loose her tears.
When her emotions had run the course, Mouse fell into a fitful slumber. Some time later, a gentle rapping noise awoke her.
“Lady Winningham?” Tom Fowler’s voice called out.
Instantly, she sat up. It couldn’t be!
Jumping from the bed, she surveyed the room for an item that could be used as a weapon. Locating a smooth ceramic fixture on the night table, she grasped it quickly. Chamber pot in hand and raised high, Mouse summoned her visitor.
“Come in,” she said.
The window swung outward and the nimble form of her husband’s would be abductor slipped in.
“Thank you. Ten more minutes and I’d ‘a caught my death.”
A look of puzzlement crossed his face upon seeing Mouse standing ready with a glass pot poised to throw at him.

“Listen here, you young fiend. You will tell me right now what your intentions are towards my husband or I shall thrash you and summon Mr. Bently, rather large, surly Mr. Bently, that is, and have him complete the job for me.”
“Wait!” He whispered desperately, putting his hands up in defense.
“Why should I?” Mouse stepped forward, raising the dish higher still.
“I don’t understand? What’s the matter?”
“The matter is, you are not the groom’s apprentice and neither are you a friend to my husband.”
“Please, Lady Winningham, I can explain!”
Mouse paused barely a moment before making her decision. “Very well. Speak. But don’t try telling me any more lies. If I find out you do, I shall have you arrested. My brother-in-law is highly placed in the House of Lords. He can have you hung at the very worst or shipped off to a workhouse for the next thirty years. Make your choice.”
The boy paled at her statement but swallowed hard and stood straighter. “I mean the earl no harm and that’s the truth. I never worked with the groom, though I wish that I could get a job as good as that. I live on the other side of Kelton wood with my Grandmother. I am a friend to his lordship and there is no doubt about it.”
“Go on,” Mouse said, replacing the chamber pot on the table, though still in her reach if the need arose.
“The two of us live in a shack ‘bout a mile from where you and Lord Winningham stayed last night. A couple of years ago, when Gran an’ I was passing through, we came upon his Lordship just coming home from the war. His horse had picked up a stone and was just about lame. I helped him get the stone out and put a nice poultice on it. My Gran mixes up lots of stuff like that. She knows about herbs and flowers from here to the north country, I swear. His Lordship felt sorry for us that we’d had no place to go, our croft bein’ burnt out the year before. So, he let us stay on. I do some hunting and Gran makes him up some fine pies from time to time. We haven’t been over since Master Ambray came home.”

“Came home? Where was he?”
“In London, I imagine. He leaves twice a year and stays gone two, maybe three months at a time. No one is sure where he goes, or why.”
“Does he take Lord Winningham with him?”
“Sometimes. Others, he just leaves him here with his two hired jacks.”
“That’s rather odd, don’t you think? Leaving him alone with servants or carting a man as sick as Michael about the countryside?”
“I don’t know, Ma’am. The gentry does as the gentry does.” Though his answer was simple, it was also a sentiment she’d heard previously. “Very well. If I am to believe you, then you were merely trying to get his Lordship out of harm’s way. I still would like to get him to London to be examined by the Duke’s physician. I don’t suppose the trip would do him well, now, either.”
“No ma’am, I imagine not.” Tom looked down onto his folded hands.
Mouse made her decision. “We’ve only a few days to get him well enough to travel. I have a plan,” she told him.
Within the hour, her visitor had gone and Mouse set in motion her intentions of making her husband stronger.
~ * ~
“Michael,” She began. “I’ve brought you something to eat.”
He was seated on the floor in the far corner of his room. Except for a pair of dirty trousers and a straight waist jacket, he wore nothing. No shoes or stockings, not even a shirt. His hair had not been combed nor had he been shaved. The front of his jacket was stained with whatever broth and medicines they’d given him.
“Eat?” Michael leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “I don’t want anymore of that wretched swill. Go away!”
“Please, Michael,” Mouse used her most patient tone. The arms of his jacket had been secured behind his back and his feet were bound at the ankles with leather straps. He’d been fighting them, that much was clear. Though it was night and her small candle gave off only a dim glow, she could easily see a purplish bruise swelling around his right eye and cheek.
“What happened?”

“I gave them my opinion on the cook’s latest dish—broth of well worn boots. Took both of the beasts to subdue me this time,” he stated with a crooked smile.
“I see.” And she did. The room around them was completely empty. No bed, no chairs, nothing but the small rug upon which he sat. She looked back at him.
“I am hoping they will become so angered with me that they’ll do me in, then I won’t have to go to Cadbury’s. I’ve only three days left, Mouse.”
“I won’t let them take you there, Michael. I promise.”
“Small matter, I suppose. One doesn’t live long in a place like that.”
“Well, I intend to build up your strength, anyway. I’ve brought you some roast pork, a piece of blackberry pie, and two bottles of ale I had one of the servants smuggle in for me
“Ale, Mouse? Did I hear you say ale?” Michael’s eyes watered when he looked at the tray she held.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. It’s just that I’ve had nothing but water and whatever port they decide to drown me in. It’ll be heaven itself to drink a simple bottle of ale.”
“Well, here you go, then.” Mouse held the container to his lips. The first he drank greedily, but the second bottle he savored and drank with his meal.
“Meat,” he said with a dreamy expression on his face. “Mouse, that was positively the best meal I’ve had in ages. Wherever did you get all that food?”
Mouse hesitated a moment, weighing the benefit of omitting the truth, for the sake of his health. “You know that mice are great scavengers, husband.”
“I don’t want you to go without eating in order to bring me extra, Mouse. I forbid it.”
Mouse laughed lightly. “Oh, look at me! It isn’t as if I couldn’t spare to miss a few meals.” Seeing the expression of worry cross his face, she quickly added. “I merely ordered more food than I could eat alone, Michael. I have already eaten.”

“I am glad. I won’t have you do without because of me.”
“I assure you, I would not. Is there some way I can make you more comfortable?”
Sitting with his back against one wall, he squirmed. “Not unless you can get a chaise in here.” He sighed. “No. It’s late, Mouse. Go back to your own bed. I will be fine until the beasts come in the morning to put my room back together. It’s only a temporary punishment.”
Mouse gathered up the dishes, careful not to leave a trace of her late night visit.
“I’ll be back tomorrow night to bring you more food and drink. My father never followed the tenet that it is necessary to starve the sick.” She smiled, then puffed out her cheeks and lowered her voice. “‘Nothing, Mousie,’ he used to tell me, ‘Nothing is more beneficial than a full meal and a good ale when it comes to healing the sick of body or mind.”
They both laughed. At length, Michael sighed. He was becoming heavy lidded, when he spoke again.
“Mouse, would you do me a small measure?”
Even in the dim light, she could see his face darken a bit.
“Anything, husband.”
“Would you just lay your hand aside my face. I have the deuce of a time sleeping sometimes. It helps if I know someone is nearby.”
Without speaking, Mouse gently caressed is cheek, her palm instantly warming to his skin. She watched as he became a changed man under her touch. His eyes closed and his lips moved in as he invoked a silent prayer.
“Thank you, my love,” he told her at last. When a few moments had passed he began to snore softly.
~ * ~
The days passed without incident. Michael’s interment was postponed yet another week by relentless rain which flooded the roads in three counties. When at last it was Monday night, Mouse had the final bits of her plan in place. She knew that in the morning Winthorp would return for her husband. Michael, though still restrained in his jacket, was much better than they’d left him. As promised, she fed

him each night, her devotion and good cheer boosting his spirits. She didn’t mention Cadbury’s or Ambray’s intentions. She only spoke of trivial matters, such things as the kitchen gossip or the adventures she and her sisters had shared growing up. Michael laughed with her at times, others he was noticeably quiet.
Finally, the time arrived for her to tell Michael her plan.
“Another lovely meal, Mouse,” he told her as she gathered up the remaining bits of bread. “Very fitting for a final repast, don’t you think?”
“Final repast? Michael, you speak as if you were a condemned man heading for Newgate.”
He looked away for a moment. Though still restrained in his bed, Michael’s expression gave him the look of being much farther away.
“Mouse, I spoke with Ambray this afternoon.” The low, deep tone of his voice gave Mouse a sense of foreboding.
“What about?” She ventured, covering the last of the plates with the cloth napkin.
“About you, mostly.”
“Me?”
“Yes, beloved. I made an arrangement with him. I told him that if he did as I requested, I would no longer fight them. He and Winthorp, that is. I would go to Cadburys and become the model patient.”
“In exchange for what?” Mouse’s fear rose like a tidal wave within her chest.
“In exchange for your being sent back to London.”
“Why would you ask such a thing? My place is here with you!”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t want you here. You’ll be better off away from me, away from Rosecliff. Go back, Mouse. Go back to your sisters and your life. You’ve no reason to stay here once I’m in that place. I won’t be returning home.”
“Michael, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“If you’re trying to say that you’ve already decided to leave, I’ll understand.” Despite the brave tone of his voice, Mouse could see the haunted shadows that lurked in his expression. Grief and disappointment dulled the brightness of his eyes. His obvious shame deepened the pallor of his face.

Not knowing what she should say to him to explain her next actions, she stepped forward again, pulling a small kitchen knife from her pocket.
“No Michael, it isn’t that at all…” she began. But, again the words failed her. She ran her hand along the blanket until it rested upon his hand.
“But it is, my Mousie, it is. You needn’t feel bad about it. Here? What have you done?”
In that instant, Mouse reached forward cleanly cutting the bonds that held his right wrist and without a word of explanation, she severed the other one.
“I’m setting you free, that’s what.”
“Setting me free? Are you mad?”
“No! And for that matter neither are you! Please, Michael! Come with me to London. My brother-in-law has a very good physician. I just know if you are treated by him, there’s a chance for you to get better.” She now grasped both his hands tightly.
He pulled back from her, his hands held out before him as though they were no longer a part of his body.
“You don’t understand, Mouse. I can’t leave here. I can’t go with you. Ever.”
“Why? What are you afraid of, Michael?”
He shook his head, squeezing his hands into fists. “There are things you don’t know, Mouse. Terrible things. I am not what I appear. I’ve caused the deaths of those I love and I may have killed your stepmother. I don’t remember—”
“Michael. Ambray determined that there was an intruder that night.”
He shook his head. “But are you really certain it wasn’t me? Can you truly say that I didn’t strangle that poor woman?”
“Yes.” Mouse argued, but in her heart, she knew they might never know what really transpired.
“No. You don’t. She came to me just before she was found dead. She said things to me that a proper woman would never say to her daughter’s husband.”

“If you think I don’t know what kind of woman Elsbeth was, you are mistaken. I lived with the woman for two years. I know that she wasn’t capable of keeping her eyes from roving on any man that attracted her. My father chose to ignore her indiscretions, I did not.” She blew out a deep breath. “And besides, Elsbeth was a healthy, hearty woman. The condition I found you in the next morning, you couldn’t have overpowered a fly.”
Michael smiled. “You really are determined to do this, Mouse?”
She nodded. “Yes, I am. Oh, Michael, I just know you will get better if you give it a chance.”
He sighed deeply. “I can’t fight you, Mouse. God, help me, I can’t.” Reaching upward he captured her hands in his. “But, you need to know something, beloved. You need to know what kind of man I am. It wouldn’t be right if you were to get your hopes up then learn the truth. I am a coward.”
“Nonsense, Michael. We’ve discussed this before—”
He shook his head. “Not in battle. Not even during my imprisonment afterwards. I mean now. I’m afraid, Mouse. Of hurting you or of losing you. I’m afraid of getting better and of not getting better. There are things I can’t tell you, things that would change your opinion of me in less than a moment if you knew. When you learn the truth about me, and I’m sure you will, I pray you’ll forgive me.”

Nearly an hour later, the small party set off. With Tom’s assistance, the two of them spirited Michael out of his bedroom, through the house, and finally out into the chilling, autumn evening. Good to his word, the youngest of the trio produced a functional, if not outwardly unappealing conveyance.
“What kind of carriage is that?” Mouse asked, looking at the great behemoth before them.
“It’s a gypsy’s dream, Mouse,” Michael whispered beside her. His skin looked unnaturally pale in the half-moonlight of midnight. Still, he showed no outward signs of discomfort and leaned only slightly upon his two compatriots.
“Aye,” answered Tom. “I filched it some years back when I was no more than a lad. A lord from the high country left it aside the road, too broken down for repairs and I fixed it up. My Gran and I kept it hid in the woods. She always thought as he might need it someday or other.” The young man beamed proudly.
“And so I have, Tom. Though I’m not sure how we’re to get it very far. What about the horses?”
“I borrowed them from one of the crofters. Ben Hastings. He was the one of them that pulled you out of the mud, the other day.”
Michael nodded. “I remember him. Half tore my bloody arm off.” He glanced at Mouse for a brief moment. “Won’t he need them for the harvest?”

“No, sir. He met with an unfortunate accident. He was caught in the haystack with Simon Blackie’s new wife. You know, they were—” Tom gave a knowing wink.
“Yes,” Michael answered with a short cough, obviously embarrassed about discussing such things in front of a lady. “What were the damages?”
“A bloody nose, a broken leg and lump the size of a tree trunk on his head. The last came from his wife. I don’t expect he’ll be doing much farming this year.”
Between the two of them, Mouse and Tom managed to get Michael into the back of the coach. It was large and spacious on the inside, demonstrating the popular style of its breed from twenty years past. Of course, time and neglect had left it partially rotted away, with the stuffing of the seat cushions exposed and the wooden framing bare from peeling paint. Mouse sighed, taking the seat opposite her husband. It would definitely be a good disguise for an earl traveling in the country. With no further comment from him, they began their journey.
Michael had been more affected by their flight from his rooms than he’d allowed. Once she had him settled in a semi-reclining position, the earl fell into a deep sleep. Resting comfortably, his color returned to a healthier shade. Mouse was too excited to rest, so she busied herself with a yarn and needle she’d brought along for the trip. Despite her dislike of domestic tasks, Mouse realized that they’d likely have need of heavy blankets by time the season changed. She intended to keep her husband from the dreadful clutches of pneumonia this winter.
~ * ~
Several hours passed before daylight. Michael slept fitfully at first, moaning at practically every rut in the road. In the early hours of morning, Mouse huddled next to him, trying to comfort him as best she could.
The day dragged on before them. Stopping only twice for food, water and necessities, the small party continued their journey south. Mouse decided it would be best to take a less direct route in order to avoid raising the suspicions of passing travelers. Michael slept on and

off during the day. Despite the constant jogging of the carriage, he didn’t complain once. By midday, the roughness of the journey became etched in his face. As the day wore on his expression became drawn and his breathing slightly labored. Mouse worried over him constantly, fearing that her idea to remove him from Rosecliff might not have been the best after all.
Just after dusk, Tommy pulled the horses up short. Michael had finally fallen into a peaceful slumber; his head lying on Mouse’s lap, his feet propped up against the side of the carriage. With the rocking motion of the miles they’d traveled, she too had been lulled to sleep. The tasks of watching her husband and fretting over their predicament had finally done her in. The sudden stillness of the carriage awoke her. She glanced up to see Tommy enter the cab.
Groggily, Mouse sat forward, “Why have you stopped? Wouldn’t it be best to travel at night?”
“Oh, aye, but the horses need a bit of rest. They’ve been going nigh on twenty-four hours. If we don’t rest them, they’ll drop for sure, then it’d be me an’ you pulling this crate.”
Mouse nodded, “All right. Should we make camp?”
“I don’t know this area well,” he answered. “I’ve pulled us off the main road a piece, that way we won’t be seen by any highwaymen. I’m more worried about the wild animals. Fire’s the only thing that keeps them away. If we light one up it might attract other visitors. I think it’d be best to tough it out in the carriage. You go on and get a few hours and I’ll stand the watch. Near to daylight, I’ll wake you.”
Mouse nodded, feeling a bit guilty. The boy looked nearly done in. Perhaps he’d sleep later in the day and she could drive the carriage. She doubted that she’d have any problem managing the horses, but people might ask questions about a lady driver.
After what seemed like a short time, Mouse felt a hand on her shoulder. She’d curled up beside her husband and managed a pocket of warmth between them.
Mumbling her thanks, Mouse pulled Tommy into the carriage and squirmed her own way out. He had built a small fire, despite his misgivings. It was well hidden behind thick brush on the opposing side of the carriage, where it wasn’t visible from the road.

Stirring the ashes, and trying desperately to absorb what little warmth came from the small blaze, Mouse desperately fought the heaviness of sleep that threatened to overtake her. Stretching to keep herself awake, she couldn’t help but miss the warm space she’d just left. Her makeshift pallet in the floor of the carriage was far from desirable, but compared to the jostling dozing of their journey thus far, it seemed like her feather bed back at Tynesdale.
Ah, Tynesdale. Mouse felt her heart squeeze when she thought about her far away home. It was the small estate where she’d grown up. Set in the country, her first home was a rural village where her father had been well respected, her mother dearly loved, and she and her sisters treasured. There she’d learned about the nature of her home, grew to the delight of her parents and sisters, and it was there where she’d learned to read and write. Those days of leisure were long past and it was in these quiet moments that she missed them the most.
She had never supported her father’s decision to move to the city. As a rebellious young lady, Mouse had often spoken out about it. But now, facing the flickering shadows, she dearly missed her family. The ache of her mother’s absence had long remained with her. With her father gone as well, Mouse couldn’t help but feel a sense of abandonment. Of course there were her sisters to confide in, but the miles that separated them left her feeling all the more desolate. They would know what to do with her sick husband and how to face Ambray and Winthorp.
~ * ~
A storm had descended on Rosecliff and its name was Ambray Kelton.
“Well?” He demanded of the staff. There was no sound in the room save for the sobbing of Dorcas, who really wasn’t responsible for anything, as she’d finished her own chores in an orderly fashion and had been tucked into bed when the incident occurred.
Mauler and Horn said nothing at all, stood staring at the dervish before them, taking the brunt of their employer’s wrath much like two tall oak trees in a summer squall.

Finally, Mauler finally came forward. “I was with his Lordship all night. I didn’t hear a single sound from his room.” He declared calmly.
“Oh really? And how do you suppose it is that my cousin managed to slip away without making a sound?”
“I don’t know, sir. His hands an’ feet were tied securely. I did ‘em up as usual.” He shrugged.
“And that little chit? Did anyone see or hear her leave the premises?”
All heads shook.
“Nay, sir.” Dorcas answered between sobs. “I gave her dinner in her rooms, as usual. She said she was having a headache and chose to retire early last night. I didn’t think anything of it, as she’s been feeling poorly of late.”
“I see. And no one thought to check on either one of them?”
“We had no reason to, sir,” Horn answered.
Ambray looked about to explode then, his usually pale complexion now a deep magenta as he stared down his house staff. Before he could unleash his mountainous amounts of anger upon them, Dorcas spoke up.
“Mr. Kelton, this is a terrible thing! What will we tell her ladyship’s sister, Lady Throckmorten?”
He turned upon the maid and paused a moment, In a tone reserved only for children and fools, he turned to his maid.
“And why would we be notifying Lady Throckmorten?”
“Because she is Lady Winningham’s sister, that’s why. Before his lordship whisked her away, she was planning to leave and visit her.”
Ambray’s mind worked furiously. “Yes,” he said at last, “we will have to warn, ah, I mean notify them.” Clearing his throat he turned away from them a moment, “We need to know the ************************************************************ **** of all of dear Miranda’s family. Such a tragedy that she was spirited away by my poor, sick cousin.” He turned back to his staff, “They had to have enlisted aid from somewhere. Was there anyone about this last week? Any of the villagers, perhaps?”
Mauler scratched his head. “There was that beggar lad. He hangs about the place looking for handouts and such,” he started.

“What? When?”
“Three days ago. I shooed him off. It was no more trouble than that, sir.”
“Perhaps,” Ambray said, thoughtfully. “We will certainly be on the watch for him.”
“Sir,” asked Dorcas, “will you be wanting to notify the authorities?” She sniffled.
“No. At least not yet. I’m going to enlist some help from a few friends and see if we can apprehend them ourselves. No need get anyone else involved. At least not yet.”
~ * ~
Quiet as a sigh, Mouse moved about the room. She’d carried heavy doubts about their stopping for the night, but the pale hue of her husband’s skin was enough to decide the matter. He grew weaker with every passing hour and by sunset of their second day on the road, she knew he would not make London alive. So, taking what few valuables she had, she bartered a room at a small inn. Rundown and flea-bitten, at least the sheets were passably clean. Mouse knew she wouldn’t be able to afford many nights like this, but perhaps he might recover enough during the next hours to make the other half of their journey.
“Easy, my love,” She spoke softly as she tucked her husband into the bed in the master bedroom. He barely moved. Fearful, she stopped to watch the slow, steady rise of his chest. Tentatively she lightly touched his forehead. It was cool and slightly damp. His eyes fluttered open at her caress.
“Oh, Mouse,” he breathed, then drifted off into sleep.
She patted him gently on the shoulder, relieved that he at least swam close enough to consciousness to recognize her. Settling into a chair beside the bed, she kept a steady vigil. As the evening progressed, Mouse slipped into a heavy doze. Sometime later she was startled awake by her husband’s shouting.
“No, Ambray!” His voice pleaded beside her. Mouse sat forward abruptly upon hearing his plea.
“What is it, Michael? What’s wrong?”
Before she could arouse him further, he began to speak again. In the same pleading tones, Michael begged his cousin to relent in

whatever ordeal was playing out in his dream. At her touch, he began to thrash about, his arms and legs fighting off the demons that inhabited his nightmare.
“Please. Don’t do this.” He cried out, his voice louder, strengthened by whatever fear gripped him.
Mouse wanted to give him ease, to shake him from the grasp of the evil spirit that had emerged from his sleep. The fiend had a name, Ambray. What was it that bound he and his cousin together and simultaneously tortured him so completely? What had his cousin done to him? What did he know that might save her husband?
“No! Not that. Never that.” He cried out again, this time the timber of his voice raising to the rafters.
“Michael.” Mouse shook him violently by the shoulders. “Wake up, Michael. It’s only a dream!” She leaned over him, bringing the candle to light his features. Michael’s eyes opened wide and as he focused on imagined spirit from his dreams.
By the time she’d finished her exam, her husband began to quake. The muscles of his jaw clenched tightly. Moaning loudly, Michael’s keening soon grew into a full throated scream.
“Michael! You must be quiet, my love.” Mouse was afraid that if her husband’s cries would arouse everyone at the inn.
Tom burst into the room, quickly shooing away the gathering of residents who stood outside the door trying to catch a glimpse of the madman. Pushing Mouse out of the way, he descended on her husband in a surprising show of strength and agility. Straddling him, the young man secured her husband effectively, turning Michael so that he lay upon his back. With one hand planted firmly on his chest, Tom held him steady, pushing him into the mattress.
For a few seconds, Mouse watched in horror. She’d been witness to Michael’s fits only one time before this. But this was the first time without Ambray’s influence or the strong arms of his caretakers. A sudden fear overwhelmed her. For an instant she wished she hadn’t spirited her husband out into the wilderness. As soon as that thought occurred to her, she pushed it away. They’d been torturing her husband, she reminded herself. Deep down she believed that if she hadn’t gotten him away from them, he might have died.

“Mind his head!” Tom shouted to her.
Her doubts quickly forgotten, Mouse rushed forward and grasping Michael’s head, she held him steady. Tom quickly pulled something from his pocket. Forcing his mouth open, he expertly thrust a four-inch piece of twisted leather between Michael’s teeth, securing it with a torn strip of cloth.
“What are you doing?” Mouse demanded, her suspicions again rising. Could it be possible that Ambray had been right about the strangers meaning to do her husband harm?
“We need to keep him from biting his tongue.”
Mouse saw his clenching and unclenching jaw. Instantly she felt foolish for doubting him.
“That’s it, milady.” Tom called out. “Hold him still.”
In silence and horror, Mouse watched as her husband continued to spasm. With Tom thrown across him, the action doing nothing more than anchoring him in the bed, the two of them continued the macabre dance—one atop the sheets, the other beneath them. She didn’t know how many minutes passed in this fashion, but after a time, Michael’s convulsions began to ease and his howling soon deteriorated into a low, helpless moaning.
“Dear God!” Mouse said, when she’d again found her voice.
“There,” Tom told her, “he’ll be aright. You’ll see.”
Mouse nodded, but remained silent when Tom left them, pulling the door shut behind him. With shaking hands, she returned to her husband’s side. Straightening the bed around him, she did her best to collect her thoughts. Be all right? How could he be? What was happening to him?”
“Mouse?” He called out weakly.
“I’m here, Michael.” she answered him, her voice coarse and thick in her throat. “Don’t worry, my love! We’re going to get you well again.” She suddenly couldn’t staunch the flow of tears that fell unbidden to dampen blanket that now covered him. She loved him. And she would lie and do worse if she had to.
“You’re still with me?” He asked.
“I’ll never leave you, Michael. Never.” She sat down beside him clasping his hands in hers.

“I can’t see you, Mouse. Everything is black.”
“The darkness is back?”
“Yes. How long, this time?”
“Only a few minutes, I think.” She paused a moment. “How do you feel?”
He took a deep breath, “Tired, my Mouse. Very tired.” He closed his eyes and slipped once again into slumber.
She sat a moment, watching the movement of his chest, slow and deep with each inhalation. Still in her grasp, his hands did begin to feel warmer. Alone in her grief, Mouse bent her head forward and began to cry, a flood of questions overtaking her mind. Was her husband truly beyond hope?
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Tom returned. The ever-faithful servant, he carried a small tray, with a tin pot of steeping liquid, and two earthenware cups.
“Here ye go, Lady Winningham. It’s all right. He’ll sleep for sometime and be all the better for it. You’ll see. Like as not, this was a bad one, but not as bad as some.”
Mouse wiped her face on her sleeve. “What do you mean, ‘bad as some’. Has he done this before?”
Tom looked away for a moment. “I’ve not seen him have a spell before but I’d heard stories from the servants at Rosecliff. Sometimes they’d say he howled for days. When he’d come back to himself, he’d remember none of it. At least that’s what they said. Might not be all truth to it, you know how people will talk.”
Mouse nodded absently. She knew too well, but she couldn’t help but wonder at Tom’s explanation. She had the distinct impression that he wasn’t telling her the complete truth about how he’d come to know her husband so well. It was worrisome, but with bigger concerns to plague her, she put it away for now.
~ * ~
True to Tom’s prediction, Michael slept through the day and the entire night. Mouse aroused him briefly to give him broth and clean him up, but other than that he slept, a thankfully dreamless sleep. He didn’t fully arouse until after midnight the following day.

There was a full moon that night. A splash of light fell across their bed. Mouse had left the window slightly open, so that the smoke from the hearth wouldn’t stifle them. The chimney was not in good repair. So, with the combination of the curtains ruffling in the night air, and the light billowing on and off around them, Mouse woke to the playful dance of shade and light.
“Hello,” came Michael’s voice beside her.
“Michael. How long have you been awake?” She yawned and stretched. The two were huddled together in the narrow bed and Mouse found that having achieved a comfortable position, she was loath to give it up. With the breeze blowing across them and Michael’s warm countenance beside her she felt better than she had in weeks, and was completely enjoying the use of his body in this manner. And said as much as she snuggled in even closer.
“A bit,” he said, turning towards her, gathering her into the hollow of his waist. “Just lying here, watching the moonlight and you.”
“Pretty dull, I’d imagine,” she noted.
“No, actually, it’s been quite relaxing.” He settled his head upon hers. “I’ve just been wondering why?”
“Why what?”
“Why you’re here with me?”
“I love you.” She felt a blush creep up her face. She turned to gaze at him and saw the look of concern written there.
“I know that’s what you think. Why? You’ve no hope of ever getting through this without being hurt.” He quickly looked down. “Not that I don’t love and cherish you every bit as much for it. It’s just that I’m not usually the sort of man that women are attracted to,” he finished quietly.
Mouse considered him a moment. Why no woman would be attracted to this striking man was certainly beyond her. She looked up at him in the dim light of midnight and saw him all the clearer. “What do you mean? You are far more handsome than any man I’ve ever met.”
He smiled then. “Oh, I don’t really mean physical attributes, though I do suppose that helps. No, I can’t explain it, but women often look at me more as a curiosity I think.” He sighed. “They’ve

always been drawn to Ambray, too. His light coloring, and good looks seem to attract them like flies to honey. Once they seen him, they never took a second look at me.”
“Well, maybe that’s because of how austere you always appear.”
“Me? Frightened half out of my wits by the female gender is more likely.”
“Hmmm. You do tend to frown more when you’re ill at ease. I remember the first night I saw you. You were scowling like a bear. I have to admit, I was pretty frightened, too.”
“Of me?”
“No, not of you. Of that party and all those dreadful people looking down their noses at me. Scared me silly.”
“But, I didn’t scare you?” He stared into her eyes then. “Not even a little?”
She gently shook her head. “Not a bit. You were the most interesting thing about the event, as I recall. I was so delighted when I’d heard you’d sent for us, I could hardly believe it.”
His smile weakened. “But, I didn’t send for you. That was Ambray. He was the one who chose you, not I.” He looked away then, his eyes searching the shadows beyond their bed.
“What does it matter how we came to be together? For me, I cannot believe that out of all those women, so rich and beautiful, I was chosen to be your wife. It doesn’t matter who did the choosing, whether it was God or Ambray Kelton. I chose to stay. I am here with you now and for as long as you want me.” Mouse couldn’t help the tear that slid gently down her cheek.
His expression softened as his hand gently moved up to wipe the moisture from her face. “I’m sorry, my love.” He leaned down,

Mouse giggled as the cool night air tickled her bare back.
But, the warmth she sought was beneath her. The bright fire of his burned in his eyes, and warmed her to her very soul.
“Please, Mouse!” He whispered, straining his body upward to fill the small void the separated them.
“Not yet,” she answered back, sliding over him provocatively. She meant not to deny him but instead to tease and delight him. She so wanted to feel every inch of him.

Mouse took a deep breath, and asked the question that had formed in her mind since the very first time she’d been introduced to the mad earl.
“Michael,” she began softly, “just what lies between you and Ambray? One moment you are brothers and the next, dreaded enemies. You seem to love him and hate him so. How can that be?”
He was quiet beside her and she could feel his body tighten at her words. For a bit she was afraid he might not answer.
“I can’t tell you, Mouse. It’s better that you never know. Go to sleep.” He turned from her then, and faced the ************************************************************ **** But before he did, she thought she saw his eyes moisten.
“I’m sorry.” She said quietly.
He did not answer, but reached behind him, grasped her hand, and pulled it to lie over his waist. “Never mind. Go to sleep, little Mouse.”

Catalina paced endlessly. “I don’t believe this is happening!” She wailed.
“Now, Cat, calm yourself,” Arthur hobbled over to comfort his wife. They were in her parlor, just after tea when the missive arrived. Quickly she’d summoned her older sister and within the hour the three of them had poured over the note repeatedly.
“Yes, Catalina, do try to stay calm,” Merry remarked absently, her attention focused on the parchment she held. “It doesn’t say that Mouse is in trouble. Just that he is concerned for her and she should be here by the end of the week. It could be nothing more than a summer cold.”
“Really? Do you think she might be ill?”
“Mouse has never been sick a day. No, I’d imagine it has to do with her behavior. You know how headstrong she can be at times. Yes. That must be it. She’s had an argument with the earl, and—”
Before she could finish, Catalina let out a loud wail. “It is the earl! I just know it! That mad earl has threatened our poor Mousie.” She burst into sobs, her thick blond curls bouncing about with her uncontrolled sobbing.
“There, there, Kitty.” Arthur soothed.
Merry sat simmering in silence. She hated it when her brother-in-law doted on her sister so. “Please calm yourself, the both of you. It’s Thursday, so Mr. Kelton should be here no later than Saturday. We’ll

know for certain what’s going on then. If it were anything disastrous, I’m sure we’d have been notified before now.”
~ * ~
It was well past midnight, the half moon throwing a dim light through their bedroom ************************************************************ **** The house made settling noises around them as Michael lay awake contemplating what kind of day it had been.
Mouse sighed in her sleep. Beside him, barely touching, she was lying on her side. He slowly draped one arm across her shoulders, ready to move when she changed position, as she frequently did during her slumber. Many times since their most recent trip had begun, he’d had to gently rearrange her in the bed. But for the moment, she slept soundly, resting without her usual activity.
The day had gone splendidly.. Michael was becoming accustomed to sharing his life with her and would be loathe to ever live alone again. The thought of it stabbed him. He knew that because of the danger he posed to her, he must return to his single life, exchanging his only hope of sanity for her safety. In the moments before she drifted off to sleep, , she had told him the most disturbing news of his life.
“You know, darling,” she said in a thick, sultry voice, which indicated how close to sleep she really was. “It’s been about six weeks since our first time together.”
“Mmmm,” he’d answered, sex having been more effective at putting him to sleep than any of Dr. Winthorp’s tonics, “yes, dear” he muttered sleepily.
“. I think I might be pregnant.” She snuggled closer. Her face nuzzling into his side so that he could feel her warm breaths tickle his skin.
The shock of her statement hit him like a bolt of lighting. He did not move then, lying paralyzed by the shock of her statement. Pregnant? Could it be possible! How like his silly little Mouse to make such a statement then fall asleep? He sighed heavily. What was he to do? How could he possibly be a father when he’d no idea what a father should do? He’d barely had parents himself, how could he dare to care for a child? Or, worse yet, to abandon it, as his own father had done to him?

Mouse roused barely enough to pat him gently on his stomach. Divining his thoughts, she muttered, “Don’t worry, darling. You’ll be a wonderful father. I just know it.” She turned onto her right side,. Michael became like a well-worn blanket, following numbly, unable to move of his own volition.
So, they had lain for nearly three hours. Michael was still pondering what now lay before him. She would have the care of their child to take her time and energies and could not possibly see to him if he became ill again. Worse yet, what if his temper turned bad and he harmed the babe? What would it do to Mouse? He knew only one thing; he should die before he ever did anything to harm his woman or their child.
That thought alone gave him new resolve. In the morning they were to leave the inn to travel the rest of the way to London. He would see his wife was safely with her family and do what he must to make certain he would never be a threat to anyone, again. Pulling her closer to him, he breathed in the lingering scent of the wildflowers she’d worn in her hair earlier in the evening.
It was Thursday night. They should be in London by Sunday. In the jumble of his thoughts, he began to form a plan. No matter what, he reasoned; Mouse and the child must be protected. He’d make a deal with the devil himself if it meant their safety.
The dawn began to light the shadows of their room before Michael finally fell into a fitful sleep. He’d spent the night both dreading and anticipating the end of their journey together.

Two days later, as the dawn was breaking, the carriage passed into the London City limits proper. Even at the immense distance from the center of the municipality, Michael could smell the stench of the masses of people who lived within its borders. He knew the city well from his many childhood trips with his father.
This time was different, he told himself. In his arms, Mouse sniffled quietly. She’d dozed off sometime during the night. Michael held her protectively, not daring to move lest he wake her. He didn’t mind the long hours of stillness and in fact had found it almost comforting to give her support during the last leg of their trip. It was the least he could do considering what he’d decided since their last night at the inn.
In the many hours that had passed, Michael had warred with his emotions. A part of him fought bravely, wanting to stay with Mouse no matter what the consequences, wanting so badly to live the life that had been long denied him. It was the life of a simple man who loved his wife and raised his children.
Those thoughts didn’t stay with him long. The more rational part of him argued that the danger to Mouse and their child was not from the outside. No stranger or known person could be as big a danger to them as was he himself. Death had clung to him like a set of well-

worn clothes, wrapping him and all who dared to touch him in its dark fabric.
First, it had been his mother. A timid woman who’d obeyed his stern father in all things except where it came to Michael’s welfare. She’d fought for him, and when she’d tried to flee John Kelton, it had cost her life.
And, of course there was Katerina. She’d not wanted to be his wife and certainly had not chosen to be the target of his anger. She’d paid the price for Michael’s unworthiness. Could she be faulted for not being faithful to a man she didn’t love? Especially when Ambray was so close, so perfect and loving where Michael was not? In the end death had claimed her as well.
Mouse shifted in his arms. He watched her settle once again and marveled at how the first rays of daylight gently touched her features. In this pose and time of day she looked positively angelic. Her rounded face accented by large oval eyes, now closed in sleep, with soft thick lashes resting against her skin. And then there was her intriguing nose. In proportion with her other features his wife’s nose was small and slightly upturned at the end. But, of all her features. Drawing nearer to their destination, he could sense the presence of danger coming closer. Once again, Michael decided that he’d not let anyone harm Mouse. Not this time. He’d take his own life if it came to that.
~ * ~
Mouse shifted slightly. She’d been awake a few moments, but rested still in her husband’s arms. She felt so comfortable and so safe there that she’d not wanted to move. After a bit, she noticed that Michael had not so much as twitched. She realized that it was long past the time that he should have pitched her sideways and relieved

his own tired muscles. But he did not and Mouse suspected that her dearest love was sacrificing his own comfort for hers.
Not wanting to cause him further burden, she shifted slightly sideways and remained unmoving as he settled beside her. She could feel the measure of his breathing change and she relaxed once more into an easy doze. As they continued their journey, Mouse marveled at how easy it was for her to rest with this man. Though her friends, her family and even Michael’s own cousin had warned her away from him, she was drawn to her husband’s side with a pull so strong that it defied understanding. No person in her life had the same effect upon her. Michael Kelton touched her in a way no other had. Mouse knew that it was his simple gestures and quiet devotion that kept her so unbalanced that her only hope of sanity lay in his firm, gentle embrace.
~ * ~
The morning wore into afternoon and the sounds of a busy city grew around them. Mouse anxiously watched out the window, noting every change in scenery that passed them. She knew the route well now, the way into the higher neighborhoods where the wealthy lived during the season. Mouse usually detested those of the aristocracy because of their haughty unscrupulous manner. With Michael beside her, she knew those who would turn against her in lesser circumstance would now be at least polite and accommodating, if not friendly.
Mouse absently twisted her handkerchief as they continued in silence. Her stomach rumbled loudly. Self-consciously she put her hand to her abdomen.
“I must be getting hungry,” she muttered.
Michael, roused from his own distant manner, turned towards her. “We should have stopped for lunch,” he told her.
“Oh no, Michael. It’s not so bad. I mean, I usually can go all the way to dinner. I suppose my condition is a bit changed. Still, I’m anxious to get home. I can’t wait to see Cat and Merry. I’ve missed them so much.”

Michael nodded, glancing away for a moment. When he turned back he wore a strained smile. “It’s good that you have family so close. I mean, if something were to happen, at least I know that you’d be cared for.”
“Michael? What are you talking about? Nothing is going to happen.” Though she stated it firmly, Mouse realized that for the last few days, a mounting uneasiness had seeped into her mind. Something in her husband’s demeanor set her on edge. The way he constantly glanced around them, looking for some threat that she couldn’t see. Of course, she chided herself, it could very well be her own imagination. After all, wasn’t she the one who hadn’t trusted Ambray? Wasn’t she the one who had jumped at every shadow the past few months?
“No, of course, not, my sweet. I suppose I must be tired from traveling. It’s been months since I’ve come to town. Forgive my restlessness.”
Mouse watched him carefully. Though his tone and words were meant to comfort her, Mouse couldn’t help but feel her suspicions growing. For the barest of seconds, she thought she saw something in his expression. A foreboding housed there behind the darkening green blue of his eyes. In the next instant the impression fled and only her husband remained. He reached out and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Beloved, there is nothing to forgive. It is I who am being silly. You know how we ladies prefer to jump at butterflies.” She gave him her best smile. His appreciation of her gesture was returned in an equally calm expression.
Finally, the carriage made the broad turn onto the drive that lead to the Duke’s home. Mouse gave a squeal of delight.
“Look, Michael! We’re home!”
Michael’s gaze froze for a moment and Mouse thought she saw a panic raise with the color of his cheeks. He quickly turned away and giving a long stretch, leaned towards the ************************************************************ ****

When he turned back to her, his voice held none of the concern that his expression had the moment earlier. “I am happy for you, my dear. Why don’t you go ahead and greet your family. I’ll stay with Tom and help the stable hands get the horses cared for. I know they’re not the best quality of animals, but they’ve worked long and hard to get us here. I want to make sure they’re properly cared for.”
“Oh. You won’t be long?” She asked as the wagon pulled up to the stable yard.
“Of course, not. Besides, I think it would be best for you to prepare my new family for my arrival. I must confess I’m a bit nervous. If I should have a spell right now, I wouldn’t want to subject the Duke and Duchess to my illness without being properly forewarned.”
Mouse smiled slightly. “You don’t have to worry about either of them, I’ve written my sisters regularly about your condition. And the Duke is quite a charmer. I’m sure he’ll take to you immediately. I confess I am anxious to see them. I suppose Merry must be here as well. Although she and Cat are usually at opposite ends of any argument, they are close in other ways.”
“As you say, my love. I’ll just be a bit.”
In the next instant, Mouse was in his enormous embrace. The two of them holding one another as they had done often in the weeks passed. The embrace was a bit too snug, she noticed, and Michael held her a few moments longer than was his habit. As the seconds passed, Mouse couldn’t help but think there was a sort of desperation in his manner. He held her as though it was to be the last time.
“Michael, is everything all right?”
He pulled back from her. “Of course, Mouse. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I’m not sure. You seem different. Concerned, perhaps?”
He shrugged. “What man would not be unsettled when meeting his new wife’s family for the first time with a clear head? After all,

during our wedding I never got the chance to be properly introduced. Laudanum does dull the senses, you know.”
Mouse took a deep breath. That must be it, she told herself. He was worried about visiting with Cat and her husband. Though his voice had shaken slightly, he still held her hands in an iron grip.
“I understand, Michael. No matter what, I will be here with you. I know it may seem odd to you, considering your own family’s distance, but my family and I are quite close. In time they will love you as much as I.
Michael smiled slightly. He’d relaxed at her words. “You truly do love me.” Though his voice spoke the words as fact, Mouse could see the hint of the question within the murky depths of his turquoise eyes.
“Of course, I do,” she answered. “And, I know my sisters will be so envious of my having so handsome a husband. Now, you finish with these animals. I am anxious to show you off to my family.” In an attempt to inspire confidence, she gave him a final hug and turned towards the gate.
“I am going to get unpacked and settled in.” She turned back at him, wearing a coquettish grin. “Don’t tarry. I have plans for you later.”
~ * ~
Michael watched as his wife made her way up the walk and into the main house. She was beautiful, the way she moved, swaying slightly with every step. For a moment, he was lost in thoughts of what she would look like, months from now, heavy with the burden of his child. A moment of pride swelled within him, which was quickly followed by a stab of fear.
Childbirth was sometimes plagued by complications. Even in their most modern times illness came, as well as other problems. Then there was the constant threat of Ambray. Michael never doubted the long reach of his cousin. Since they’d returned from Spain had he not guessed at the man’s ability to perpetuate evil? Before Mouse, Michael simply hadn’t cared. He’d happily followed his cousin into

the depths of hell. Now, all that had changed. Because of his wife and child, Michael knew what he must do.
He motioned for Tom. “I need a horse saddled and ready to travel within the hour.”
“My Lord?” Tom looked up from his position of examining one of the animal’s hooves.
“Tom. I am returning to Rosecliff.”
“But, your Lordship—”
“Please, you have helped my wife and me immeasurably, but there is more than you know. I was glad to get her here safely, for that I have you to thank. Do as I ask now. Stay here and help her in my absence.”
Tom nodded. “If you wish, my Lord. I am not one to question my betters, but is there no way you would reconsider?”
“I wish I could. Believe me, there is nothing more that I desire than to stay here. There are circumstances that prevent me from doing so. I shall have to be happy knowing that she is safe.”
Tom took one of the horses from the harness. “He’s likely the strongest, sir. Mind you, you’ll have to rest him after half a day,”
Suddenly, a loud crash sounded across the yard. Michael looked up to see to familiar forms burst through the gates.
“Damnation!” Tom shouted beside him. “Run!”
The sight sent a paralyzing chill into Michael. Mauler and Horn were barreling towards him, thick cloth restraints in their hands. Without thinking, Michael bolted towards the drive. In minutes he’d jumped the gate and began his flight down the open road. The shouts of the men were getting closer, and though Michael knew he wouldn’t likely out outrun them, he still ran.
Lungs near to bursting, Michael’s muscles screamed for air. He’d been abed for so many months, the sudden effort of outrunning the two men seemed almost more than he could bear. Though he was tiring quickly, he kept on. Without looking back, he knew his pursuers were gaining on him. Still, Michael ran for his life.

He knew he couldn’t outdistance them for much longer, though he would have collapsed before surrendering. As he rounded the first turn of the road, another figure approached. The sight caused Michael to slow considerably. Seated high upon his mount, Ambray ambled up to a spot in front of where Michael stood, breathing laboriously. Before he could object, the two aides tackled him from behind. Though he struggled valiantly, they quickly pulled his arms back and secured them with the strips of cloth.
Michael suddenly gave up his fight. Wasn’t this what he’d intended since they’d left the inn? Of course, he’d wanted to ride back of his own volition. He’d wanted that one small victory over his cousin. But, in the end, it really made no difference.
“Well, cousin,” Ambray said in a joyful voice as he dismounted, “I’ve found you.” Without another word, Ambray walked to where Michael remained, prone on the ground, gasping for breath. Before he could protest, the cousin drew back his leg and delivered a swift kick to Michael’s abdomen. Other blows followed, while Mauler and Horn stood by.
When Ambray had finished, he leaned down to the pavement. Savagely grasping Michael by his hair, he jerked his head upwards so they were eye to eye.
“That is for running out on me and putting me to so much trouble.”
“I’m sorry, Ambray,” Michael stated, though the words burned in his throat. “I was coming back.”
Ambray’s leer turned to a genuine grin. “I don’t doubt it, cousin, since the courts have placed you in my care. With only a word to my solicitor, I would have had you in less than a fortnight. But, I wouldn’t want to drag poor Miranda through the social embarrassment of a public trial.”
“No. I’ll come home, Ambray. I never meant to upset you.”
“Good. We’ll begin our journey to Rosecliff tonight. You must convince your bride of your sincere wish to return with me.

Moreover, you must insist that she is to stay here. I will not have her undermining my care for you again. If she refuses, Michael, then I may have to dispose of her. Perhaps some accident, not like my distasteful disposal of her meddlesome stepmother.”
Michael, struggled against his ties. “You killed her then? Of course, you did. I should have known. I thought… That is, she came to my room that night. I wasn’t sure.”
Ambray laughed. “You are too slow witted to realize what a danger that woman was to us! She wanted your money for herself. I had to get rid of her. What better way than to have her murdered by my poor, insane relation?”
Mouse had been correct, Michael thought. He hadn’t killed Elsbeth. A part of him believed that he’d never be capable of such an act. But she’d come to his room that night and he’d been angered. It was too easy to think that his lapse in memory had been attributed to his own acts of violence. Suddenly his fears for Mouse multiplied.
“You don’t have to threaten me, Am. I’ll convince my wife to stay. Just promise me you’ll let her be.”
Ambray seemed satisfied with Michael’s promise. “Of course, cousin. After all, I’m not the one responsible for poor Katerina, am I?”
“No,” Michael said quietly.
“Get him to the house and get him cleaned up,” Ambray ordered. “We need to have him presentable to say good-bye to his family.”
~ * ~
Mouse remained quiet while her sisters plied her with the all the gossip that had transpired since her absence from town. She grew increasingly wary as they continued around her, with only the Duke remaining silent. For a man of sixty plus years, he was undoubtedly attractive. His face was stern, slightly balding, with a neatly trimmed mustache. Though aged, his form was not that of the infirm. In fact, he filled his suit quite well. Mouse realized by watching the way he looked at her sister, that the older man indeed had a fondness for Cat.

His expression was not unlike that which she’d seen her own husband wear often.
The thought of her husband only brought Mouse to wonder what had become of Michael. A good twenty minutes had passed since she’d left him, and though she knew he was perfectly safe, it still nagged at her that he’d not yet made his appearance.
“I tell you, Mouse, it had the whole ballroom on tenterhooks, Fanny Atherton was caught talking with Lord Dunning behind the very tapestries that decorated the west wing. They are to be married by the next season, or so our sources say.”
“Married, indeed.” Merry snorted. “Who’d expect anything less, considering Fanny trapped that poor man, sure as the sun rises in the east.”
“Do you think so, Merry? Really?” Cat set her tea cup down carefully.
“Please, that girl has been trying to poach a husband since I was in bows.”
Despite the two women’s easy banter, Mouse noted that they both continued in amiable conversation far longer than was their habit. Usually within the first five minutes of their company her two sisters were at cross-purposes. Her suspicions were further increased when she saw Catalina glance nervously over her shoulder.
“Michael should be coming in by now. Perhaps he needs a bit of encouragement to come and join the family. I shall go out and see.”
“Oh! Please, Mousie. Sit a bit longer.” Catalina jumped to her feet.
“Yes, I’m sure he’ll be here momentarily.” Merry added quickly.
Mouse eyed them both. “What are the two of you about? I only want to fetch my husband!”
“Now, Miss,” Arthur stepped forward, “I’m sure your fellow will be coming along in a bit. After all, visiting with one’s in-laws is no easy task. Doubly so when one has traveled so far and not been in the peak of health. Let’s give him a few more minutes, shall we?”


Mouse sat down, though her suspicions were not allayed. “Just what is going on here? Why are you all acting so odd?”
“Whatever are you talking about, sister?” Cat asked, though she began to wring her hands in earnest.
“Oh, you know our Mouse, always the uneasy one.” Merry said.
“A nervous nature, no doubt,” the Duke added.
“I am not uneasy. I believe that describes you, Merry. And as for a nervous nature-well, never a day in my life have I been flighty. That better refers to you, Cat.”
“Oh dear,” Cat whimpered. “I knew this would never stand.”
“Be quiet, Catalina.” Merry snapped.
“What are you two talking about?” She turned to the Duke. “Arthur, you’d never lie to me. What is going on here?”
The older man looked down, guilt coloring his expression. “Please don’t be upset, Miranda. You must understand that your family has your best interests at heart. We would never result to trickery unless there was good reason.”
Mouse stood up instantly. “What do you mean, good reason? What have you been told? And by whom?”
The three of them did not speak. Exchanging quick, guilty glances, Mouse’s family neither confirmed nor denied her suspicions.
“Where’s Michael?” Panic ran quickly up her spine. Mouse backed away from her sisters and the Duke. “What have you done to him?” She looked around the room, searching for the exit. The dull thudding in her head, which had started at the first instant of this conversation, now became a sharp, slicing pain. The quick, strong fist of hysteria descended upon her.
Without explanation, Mouse started for the door. To her surprise, her brother-in-law, Arthur was up, cutting off her exit. In the next instant, he grabbed her by the shoulders and held her fast to him. Mouse was surprised at the strength and agility of the man. It was hard to think of him as infirm when he held her so resolutely.

“My dear, please settle yourself for a moment. You’ll not do your husband any good if you let your emotions have full swing.”
“Let me go.” Mouse struggled against him. “You don’t understand what he’s been through. You don’t know the truth.”
“Miranda, please. We know that you were taken by him, that he forced you from the safe haven of Rosecliff. Half the countryside has been on the alert for you. Your husband’s cousin contacted us immediately. We feared the worst!”
Mouse relaxed in his grip. “He contacted you? Oh, it cannot be! It just cannot be.” Mouse sagged against the Duke. “You don’t understand! He lied to you about Michael. He was ill, yes, but now he’s better.”
“Oh Mouse,” Cat came forth. “It’s true. You are fond of him. Don’t you fret, dear one. We shall see that he receives the best possible care. And, you will stay with us. I won’t have you going back to that horrible castle. I won’t have it.”
Mouse knew that it would do no good to argue with them. Her best hope, in fact her only hope, was to find her husband and get as far away from them as was possible. More calmly, she considered her options.
“I know that you only mean the best for me. I will just go to him and explain things. I’m sure that once you meet him, you will be able to decide for yourselves the truth of the matter. I left him in the stables. Yes, I’ll go to him now.”
“Mouse,” Merry began, wringing her hands in a perfect imitation of Catalina, “I’m afraid you won’t find him there. At least, I think not.”
“What do you mean he isn’t there? Where is he?”
The three eyes turned away from her then. “Where is my husband?” She asked again, a new fear twisted in her gut. “My God! What have you done?”

“Where is Michael?” She asked again, but no answer came from her family.
The door opened behind her. Turning, she saw the one person who embodied her most dreaded fear. Mouse couldn’t move. Ambray stood in the midmorning sun his golden blond hair shining brilliantly, eyes filled with sympathetic expression, and looking very much like an avenging angel. She quickly drew in a breath.
“Where’s Michael?” She asked shortly, curling her hands into fists ready strike him if he didn’t give her a direct answer.
“I’m here, Miranda,” Michael said, entering behind Ambray.
As Michael stepped out, Mouse saw immediately that something was terribly wrong. His clothes were wrinkled and dusty, though it appeared as someone had attempted to make him presentable before coming inside.
“Thank goodness you’re all right. I was so afraid something terrible had happened.” Relief replacing her fear, Mouse pushed past Ambray to embrace him. Michael tensed immediately, pulling away as though her touch might burn him. “Michael, what’s wrong?”
“Michael is enjoying remarkable physical health, aren’t you, cousin?”
Michael glanced to Ambray, his eyes darkening slightly. Mouse could see the hard lines of his face becoming sharp as muscles clenched around his mouth.

“I am fine, Miranda. I’ve come to tell you that I won’t be staying in town.” Though he spoke to her, Michael’s eyes never left Ambray.
“What do you mean?” Mouse looked from one to the other. “What have you done to him?” She demanded, turning her full anger toward Ambray. “What have you told him?”
“Nothing. Except that I am so relieved to find you both at last. You gave me a terrible fright. I assumed only the worst. Clever thing that you are, you directed your abductor towards your family. And I have seen to it the young man that would have profited by your trusting nature is now under arrest.”
“Tom? You’ve taken him?”
“Oh, not I, sweet one. The authorities have the young cur. He was about to make off with Michael. He’d two thugs waiting for him. If I hadn’t shown up when I had, who knows what might have happened to his lordship.” He turned to Michael. “Isn’t that true, cousin?”
Michael was silent only a moment. Looking downward, he muttered, “Yes, Ambray. That’s the truth.”
Mouse shook her head stubbornly. “No. I don’t believe you. Michael, what has he done to you? Has he threatened you?”
“No,” he answered, not raising his eyes to meet her questioning gaze.
Mouse stepped closer still, but her husband retreated.
“I am fine, Miranda.”
She couldn’t believe that he was ‘fine’, in fact, as she saw it, the fact that he was using her given name made her even more suspicious.
“What has he said to you? What has he done?” She demanded.
Michael still did not look directly at her. “He’s done nothing. I have made my decision. I am going back with him. Back to Rosecliff. We’re leaving today.” His voice trailed off.
“I don’t understand.” Mouse moved closer. Reaching out, she grasped his hands in her own, but he instantly moved back pushing her from him.
“There is nothing to understand. You’ve known this all along,” he told her, “I’m sick and I need to be cared for. It’s as simple as that.”
“Michael?” Mouse stepped back from him, shocked from his tone as if he’d burnt her with his words. But the suspicion of his real

reasons tugged at her heart. Perhaps he hadn’t really loved her or, worse yet, that he simply was not capable of such affections.
When he turned back to her, his expression spoke volumes of what his words could not. For a moment she became lost in his gaze, his eyes imploring her to relent, to let him be.
“Please, Mouse,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper, but he didn’t finish his speech. He only turned toward Ambray.
“I’d like to go now.”
His tone held a finality that nearly broke Mouse’s heart. It left a rapier cut into her middle and for a few moments she couldn’t speak herself.
“Of course, Michael. I think that’s for the best.” Ambray moved to stand beside her, his golden expression unchanging. “We’ll be sending yours and your stepmother’s things back as soon as possible. Arrangements will be made in regards to compensations owed to you.”
“You did this to him.” Mouse snapped. She turned her anger and shock full force on Ambray. “You convinced him he was too ill to be free. Too sick to live a normal life. You are the devil incarnate.”
“Now Miranda,” Arthur came forward. “The situation is terrible for both of you. Please calm yourself.”
It was Michael that spoke next. “Miranda. Enough of this. I will not allow you to continue. You falsely blame Ambray, when it is I who deserves your wrath. I led you to believe that there was hope in our marriage, that I might be capable of any feelings in your direction. Sadly, that is not the case. By my continuing to lie to you, I’ve encouraged your affections. The truth is that I see clearly now. I am not capable of living a normal life. I am not in love with you. I admit, you were an interesting distraction, but in the end, I am not the man for you, Miranda. We shall not meet again.”
“No. You’re lying. I don’t believe you!”
“How despicable.” Merry gasped moving into the fray and bravely flanking Mouse.
Michael turned away, “I cannot help you, Miranda. You are a fool and an ignorant chit, if you think that a man in my position would have any thoughts about a little church mouse like you.”

Mouse reeled from the harsh words. She heard her family’s gasps behind her as she fell back into an armchair.
“No, it’s not true.” But her voice was weaker, her tone a slightly higher pitch.
“I’m afraid it is, wife. I have no care to continue our life together at this point. Pray that you have learned your lesson. If you choose a divorce, then so be it. That is, if my guardian agrees.”
Ambray had been oddly quiet the past few moments. “Of course, Lord Winningham. I am certain we can meet suitable arrangements.”
With that, the two of them gave their respectful good-byes. Reeling, Mouse mutely watched her husband leave. How could she have been fooled so easily?
~ * ~
Once outside, Michael’s breath left his body in a rush. He’d done it. He’d crushed his wife’s determination with a single blow, cruel bastard that he was. But she would be safe, as would their child and even Tom. He’d done the right thing and with much more believability than he’d thought possible. He knew that her shock would turn to disgust and hatred as the long months ahead drove home the painful way in which he’d used her. He’d done the best he could to convince her to stay away. He knew he’d been successful.
Then why did he feel no victory? Why did he long more than anything to throw himself at her feet and beg for her forgiveness?
Even had he the opportunity, Michael was prevented from further action. Once outside the manse, he was thrust into the waiting carriage. An angered Ambray slipped in beside him.
“I hope you realize what this little affair has cost you, cousin.”
“More than you know, Am.”
Ambray scoffed. “It seems the time you spent with the little chit has had some positive effects. You are a bit stronger and even—dare I say it—calmer than before. The wonder of the female influence on some men always amazes me. What a jewel is our little Miranda, eh?”
Michael spoke no more. He turned away from his caretaker. A confirmed bachelor, Ambray Kelton knew next to nothing about women. Or rather, the kind of woman that was his Mouse. Miranda, he’d called her. That strangely suited Michael. Mouse was his private

name for her, shared only with those who loved her the most. That’s how he would remember her, the woman who’d so carefully put the pieces of him back together and not the gentle creature that he’d left shattered in the Duke’s parlor.
His Mouse had loved him, touching and caressing him and in her blessed steadfastness, had healed him. Or at least had healed a part of him. That knowledge would see him through the next months with Ambray. He only hoped that the authorities would find him out soon enough and hang him quickly. He didn’t want to be the cause of any more distress to her. He’d done enough already.
The carriage traveled on for some time. Michael barely recognized the landscape until they were well into the afternoon and outside the city limits. Another hour passed and he dozed off and on, the strange malady of despair washing over him. What matter did it make if he drew one breath or another? Michael had made a resolution on the front steps of the Duke’s home. He would fight them no more.
Suddenly they stopped. Michael woke from his daze to see Ambray staring at him.
“I told you I’d some new ideas regarding your care, Michael. This is the first. Get out of the carriage.”
Shrugging, Michael obeyed. What difference did it make after all? He’d firmed his resolve to cooperate and rightly would have until he glanced up into the afternoon sun and saw just what it was that his cousin had arranged.
His mouth going dry, Michael remained calm. “What the devil are you doing, Ambray?” He asked in mock surprise. Unfortunately he knew the answer too well.
Before him were the orderlies, Mauler and Horn. They stood still as stone, obviously awaiting the orders from Ambray.
“I am entertaining a long time fancy of mine, Michael. I have always wanted to test your mettle. To see just how much it would take to break you.”
Michael clenched his fists. “I don’t understand. Haven’t you always held sway over me? You and Dr. Winthorp. You’ve done all this before.”

“Not quite in this way. Despite all of my planning and cajoling and propriety, you were always your own man. You allowed yourself to be taken in Spain. I’d convinced you of your guilt, so you formed your own form of self punishment.” Ambray shrugged. “When we returned home, you allowed yourself to be judged by the tribunal, not once speaking in your own defense. Again, your choice. When I brought you our dear Miranda, you chose to turn the woman’s affections away from me.”
“You forced her to be my wife. It was not my doing, but your own.”
“Yes, it was in the beginning. Like Katerina, I expected her to shy away from her dark, brooding husband and fall to my tender charms. Not so. This one fell for you, hard. Perhaps it’s better that she will never know the truth about you, cousin. Don’t worry, your secret will remain ever safe with me.”
Michael eyed the thugs who were a hair’s breath away from him. For the briefest of seconds he considered his options. He could attempt an escape, but they’d already overrun him once. That only left staying and defending himself. He was much stronger than a few weeks earlier. While he entertained no hope of besting them, Michael knew he could get in a few good punches of his own. That was when he saw it. His cousin was grasping a riding crop in one hand. Suddenly he realized the full depth of Ambray’s hatred. It was a velvet cloth that covered the other man and woven of such strong fabric that no amount of strength could rent it.
Knowing he could not possibly escape the beating that awaited him, Michael made one final decision. Not waiting for the men’s approach, he lunged at Ambray, landing one solid blow against his cousin’s jaw. With a satisfying crunch, he absorbed the shock and pain as his fist connected. True, it was only one hit, but Ambray would wear a badge of Michael’s honor on his cheek. That almost made it worth the beating that was coming.
Instantly the men were upon him. In the end it took all four of Ambray’s minions to subdue Michael. Mauler and Horn, and the two men from the docks finally overcame his struggling form, tying him to the back of the carriage. Of course, each man gave Michael their

own measure of revenge. Certain that he’d gained a few broken ribs, a swollen right eye, and several more cuts and bruises, Michael didn’t end his fighting until he was completely restrained.
Without saying a word, a rather strange occurrence to Michael, as he knew his cousin’s need for eloquence, Ambray grabbed the back of Michael’s now torn and bloodied shirt. With a resounding rip, he stripped it from the earl’s back.
As the first whipstrokes fell, Michael bit into his lip, tasting his own blood. He didn’t want to cry out, to give his cousin the satisfaction of seeing his weakness. But, before long the continuous strips of fire laid across his flesh gave in to any courage that had remained. In the end, however, the vestiges of pain wore him down. At the first he cursed his cousin and at last he only moaned. The devil’s grin upon Ambray’s face revealed that the man’s expectations had been met. Revenge for whatever transgression he’d imagined had been exacted that afternoon.
When they’d taken him down, Mauler and Horn quickly applied the straight waistcoat. Though the strips of rough cotton tore at his now bleeding back, Michael no longer struggled. The fight had literally been beaten out of him.
“A small lesson, Michael,” was all Ambray said as they loaded him back into the carriage.

Fourteen

Mouse avoided breakfast that morning, the way that she had the previous two days. She slipped out into the garden before dawn managing to evade the ramblings of her family, the house staff, and the many curious visitors who’d descended upon her since the word had gotten out about her abandonment by the poor, mad earl. Suddenly, Lady Winningham was the height of interest to society. Mouse was beginning to hate them all. Especially the ones who dared to show their faces before noon. With her pregnancy, Mouse quickly realized that she was not the early riser she’d once been. Of course, the need to take afternoon naps also overwhelmed her of late and she came to despise the afternoon visitors as well.
Mouse had agreed to stay at her sister Catalina’s house for two reasons. First, and most practical, since her stepmother had sold off her father’s townhouse, she’d simply no place to go. That is except for her sister Merry’s home. With her husband’s rakish attitude and behavior, Mouse could not maintain a peaceful demeanor. Which led to the second reason for Mouse’s extended visit with the younger of her two siblings. Advanced in her own pregnancy, Catalina was a veritable mountain of information about anything related to birth and child rearing. After much investigation, Mouse learned that such things were not generally spoken of in polite circles or to be found in the dusty tomes that comprised Arthur’s vast library.
Fortunately, her brother-in-law had no qualms about sharing his home. A true gentleman of the old school, Arthur, too, had insisted on

her staying. He often gave her kind words and gentle platitudes that in other circumstances Mouse might have found annoying. But, as an abandoned wife and soon to be mother, she more and more valued the older man’s friendship.
Despite her creature comforts of family and friends, however, Mouse could not deny the gaping hole of Michael’s absence. Seeing her sister in the light of a happily married woman only made Mouse’s own plight seem that much more desolate. Though everyone around her walked as if treading on broken glass, she couldn’t help but have moments of breakdown. She tried valiantly to hold back her emotions, to stem the flow of tears. She was grieving her husband’s abandonment. Nothing would change the pain of their separation. Each night before going to bed, Mouse began the habit of talking to her unborn child. Though only a few months advanced in her pregnancy, she felt certain that it was the time to begin telling the child about the father that could not be present. Somehow it helped her to manage the long hours alone between dusk and dawn and quell the rising tide of despair that was building up in her.
On the third morning after Michael’s departure, Mouse wandered into the garden and found the Duke waiting for her among the peonies. She nearly slipped away, but the older man’s senses were not quite as fragile as he led others to believe. He’d heard her movements and beckoned her to come and sit with him. Feeling obligated to the Duke and thinking that a bit of conversation might help her morning sickness, she settled onto the bench beside him.
“I must say, I’ve not been to the gardens this early in a long time. Since before I met your sister, actually.”
“Your gardener should be commended. During the gentler months, the violets are breathtaking. And the roses are beyond compare,” Mouse stated, inhaling the early morning fragrance.
“Yes, Raul is a valuable groundskeeper. He truly loves his creations. That’s how he sees them, you know. All of my flowers and shrubs are really his. I merely come to enjoy that which he allows,” he said with a chuckle. “And, I’ll let you in on a secret, I’m glad of it.”
Mouse smiled. “I am sorry to have disrupted your household, Arthur. You have all been so kind to me these past few days. I

promise that as soon as I’m back on my feet, I’ll be out from under yours.”
Arthur scoffed. “Please, dear child. Nothing would make me happier if you decided to stay on a bit. Kitty is beside herself mothering you. It rather gives me a breather, you know. She’s hovering over you instead of the children and me. I’m afraid it is we who owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“Thank you. You are most kind.” She hesitated slightly. “I owe you an apology.” Her voice was small and the heat of her embarrassment covered her face.
“And what transgression have you committed?” Though surprised, Arthur gave no evidence of agreement.
“I was a bit rash in thinking that my sister was not as happy as she could be here with you. After being pushed into a marriage arranged by my stepmother, she’d been cheated out of falling in love for herself. Seeing her these last few days, it’s plain just how much in love with you she truly is. I am sorry for having misjudged you both.”
“Thank you,” he stated quietly. “You know, when I married the first time, I did as my parents instructed. It was done that way back then. The idea, of marrying because of such foolish reasons as love, were not looked well upon. After all, we were not much more than children. How could we possibly know who the correct mate might be? There was always the bloodline to worry about. One had to keep pure the lineage to which one was born. At the time, it seemed right. I was not happy in my marriage. I worked as much as possible first in Parliament and later in the war effort.
“The first Duchess and I were considered a solid couple. We went about our marriage and fostered it the way you would any business. I was not happy. I hadn’t expected to be. When Diana died, I was sad but not grieving. My children, whom I barely knew, had loved her and missed her. To me they were strangers who lived in my home. I had secured my family’s heritage.”
“And when you met Catalina?”
“The first Duchess had been gone a little over two years. A poor heart, you know. I’d pretty much believed that I would retire a lonely widower. In fact, I’d given up on life itself. My physician believed

that I was close to my deathbed. At his insistence I attended a small soiree on the edge of town. It was there that I first saw your sister. We talked briefly. Afterwards, I met with your stepmother for the first time to discuss a possible engagement. An objectionable woman, no doubt, but I managed to advance our courtship in a short time. It was my belief that I hovered about death and my last wishes would be an easy ending with your beautiful sister by my side.”
“I didn’t know,” Mouse whispered.
“Neither did I.” Arthur chuckled. “Kitty is an incredible woman. She took none of that morose behavior that I thrust upon her. She didn’t see me as a fading old man, but a handsome strong husband. Believe me, I would never have touched her! I would never have shared gentle caresses, not to mention the other husbandly duties. But your sister was insistent. She wanted a loving husband. In the beginning, I thought she would kill me with her affections. Imagine thinking that love could ever kill you! But I did. And then, bit by bit, day by day, she won me over. That was nearly three years ago. I’ve not regretted it. I didn’t think it possible that I could have such happiness. So you see, it is your own sister to whom you may owe apologies. Certainly, not I.”
“What a lovely story! I am so envious of you both. You were ill, Arthur, though not in body as you’d thought, but ill in your spirit. Michael is that way, you know. His mother died when he was so young and his father was cruel and unforgiving. Then came the war and Ambray to torture him.”
“You truly believe this cousin is a threat to the earl?”
“Oh, Arthur, I know he is!”
“What proof do you have? Has he beaten the earl or starved him? Tell me and I shall have the authorities out there in less than a fortnight!”
“That’s the problem. With that awful Dr. Winthorp they’re not mistreating him exactly. It’s likely that compared to the standards that most insane people are treated, his care is impeccable. I just believe they are giving him the wrong treatment.”

“And, what do you think is the right treatment for his malady?” Arthur asked, his voice low and conspiratorial, as though he might have already guessed at her answer.
“I think what Michael needs most is what I can give him. I love him. Isn’t it possible that love can heal an injured soul as well as an injured body? Aren’t you proof of that? What’s to say that if I stayed with Michael, becoming his wife and treating him as my husband, that the treatment would be as beneficial to him as any laudanum or bleeding might?”
“You’ll get no disagreement from me, Miranda. Unfortunately, the Crown has made Ambray Kelton his guardian. And you, though being his wife and helpmate, have not yet reached the age of competency in the eyes of the law. Add that to being a woman and it’s clear that very few courts would grant you control over Michael and his estates. Now, with suspicion cast on him over the death of Elsbeth, it’s not likely that the courts will release him anytime soon, even if he does manage a recovery. For my own counsel, I believe it is more likely Michael’s money that’s being concerned here and not so much his person.”
“Then you suspect Ambray as well?”
“I have been a man of means all of my life, dear one. Like as not, most of the world’s problems are caused by money. Those that aren’t are caused by hatred and jealousy, but that is generally the minority.”
“So, if we are in agreement that it might be possible for Ambray to have contributed to Michael’s condition, we should do something about it? As soon as possible?” Mouse couldn’t help but keep her hopes from the tone of her voice. Suddenly she envisioned the Duke readying his coaches and calling his men to arms.
“There is something else we must consider,” Arthur stated quietly. “I believe it will have more bearing on the circumstances your husband may be enduring.”
“What is it?”
“That young man that traveled with you, Tom, was it?
“Yes. Ambray had him arrested. He’d been convinced the boy meant harm towards Michael and me. But that wasn’t the truth of it at all. It was Tom who helped us escape.”

“I have made some inquiries as to the ************************************************************ **** of your young friend, Miranda. There is not a trace of him anywhere. It seems he was more than a drifter who happened upon your husband’s estate. He was an operative in Spain during the conflict. How highly placed in the command, or even which side he assisted is another matter. For now, no one knows where he’s gotten to or who took him. Your husband’s cousin alluded that Tom was taken in custody by the authorities, but I fear otherwise.”
“The war? But, he is so young. Do you really think he meant Michael any harm?”
Arthur shrugged. “It’s hard to say until we gain more information. He might have been planning something. Michael, even as ill as he was could still be a powerful ally. But not without pulling him from Kelton’s control, at least. They might very well have been at cross purposes with Michael in the middle.”
Mouse hadn’t considered yet another threat to her husband. “I nearly added to the danger by my being so foolish.” Taking a deep breath, she looked upwards at her brother-in-law. “We must get to Rosecliff as soon as possible. We’ve got to rescue Michael before anything terrible happens.”
“I do agree that something must be done. But, I also advise caution. While I am not without means, you must understand, to do something rash would be detrimental to my standing in this town, not to mention the danger it might pose for Michael.”
Her hopes quickly sinking, she asked, “Then what course is left to us? Arthur, I am so certain that if we don’t act quickly, we will lose Michael forever. So many times during my stay he was so ill, so close to death. It was almost as if he had given, up, willing himself to die.”
“I don’t mean to abandon him, Miranda. But we must move cautiously if we are to be successful. First, we have to provide evidence of his ill treatment. Then we must also prove that he can become well enough to manage himself and his own affairs. Or at least be sponsored by someone such as myself.”
“Would you do that, Arthur? Would you help Michael in that way?”

Arthur smiled. “I would do whatever is necessary to help you, Miranda and not merely because you are Kitty’s baby sister. I would help because if the earl is being treated badly, his rescue would be the right thing to do, for the both of you and your child.”
“What should we do first? How can we possibly hope to prove anything when Rosecliff is so very far away?”
“I have someone in mind that could possibly infiltrate the estate. A former Bow Street Runner, Timothy O’Malley is the sort of fellow who manages to blend in. He was invaluable to me during the war, able to get in and out of several sticky situations, you know. Hard to tell how many lives were spared by his efforts alone. “
“You were involved in clandestine activities, Arthur?”
“In a very indirect way, I assure you. While I did my time with the War Office, mostly in the form of financing campaigns overseas, I did hear rumblings about some of the coastal estates. For a while there had been a rumor floating about the halls of Parliament that the former Earl of Winningham, Michael’s father, might possibly have been involved in some activities of espionage and smuggling of arms and other supplies to France. None of it was ever proven. A good friend of mine even voiced the opinion that Winningham might have had support from a high-ranking member of the military. Before charges could be investigated he died and the war ended.”
“Was there ever any suspicion on Ambray?”
The Duke shook his head. “None that I was aware of. The boy was somewhat of a cur, you know. A sad story, really, since he is an illegitimate member of the family. In and out of trouble, though nothing really serious—mostly related to the gambling houses as I recall. There are those among the young gentry who consider such goings on as merely a right of passage into manhood. But then, Kelton went to war and such things are soon forgotten when a man risks his life for king and country.”
“I still think that Ambray Kelton is at least jealous of Michael’s position and wealth, though he never said so. He always talked as if he were completely devoted to Michael. I can’t explain just why it is I don’t trust him. I just don’t.”

“Put you mind at ease, Miranda. I shall send out Timothy tonight. He’ll arrange a way to get inside the manse. If anything questionable is occurring, O’Malley will root it out.”
Mouse gave her brother-in-law a strong embrace. “Oh, Arthur, thank you so much for helping us. At least Michael has a chance, now.”
“Of course, my dear. But, you must also understand there is the possibility that your husband truly is ill. If this proves to be the case, then you must also agree to put the matter to rest. While it is right to grieve for what you’ve lost, you’ve a child to think of now. Have you considered the true reason Michael left? Perhaps it could be out of concern for you and the babe?”
Mouse bit hard on her lip. “I know that’s possible, Arthur, and probable as well. But, perhaps he believes that way because Ambray has convinced him of it. I would never let Michael do anything to our child. As much as it would hurt me to stay away from him, I’ll do it if I must. I just need to be really certain that is the case.”
~ * ~
Hours passed as Michael was jogged around in the back of the carriage. He’d managed to sleep off an on, but with each new arousal a different set of discomforts plagued him. Despite being summarily beaten and in weakened condition, Ambray had ordered that he be wrapped securely in his straight waistcoat with hands and ankles restrained. Worse yet was the rub of the material against the cuts and bruises that covered his back from the flogging. Despite the excruciating pain of his ordeal, Michael was nursing another injury, but not one of the body.
The memory of his last moments with Mouse came unbidden. In his mind, he saw her still. Large, dove gray which shimmered molten silver, dimmed to dull gray when she realized that he was abandoning her. How she had stared at him, unbelieving. Damn the woman for the way her lips trembled and her petite hand reached out to him, while he cast her away like so much flotsam. The pain of his leaving her was a hundred times that of Michael’s wounds in Spain. Only the loss of his mother when he was a child compared to abandoning his wife. Even that memory had dimmed with time.

On the third day of their journey, the carriage bounced to an uneven stop in front of a ramshackle inn. Michael breathed deeply. They weren’t yet near Rosecliff because he could not yet smell the sea. The air that hung about the place was heavy with decay and a scent that was akin to a London sewer.
As the door to the carriage was yanked open, Michael could see the last rays of the setting sun. A two-story building, badly in need of paint and repair, the inn was not the best to expect along the road from town. But, it was lodging, and Michael was glad of at least being out of the carriage for a bit, even if it meant staying in such an infested hovel as this.
“I see that you are doing well.” Ambray stepped down from the carriage, walking stick in hand. His dress and manner appeared as if he’d just finished an early morning jaunt through Hyde Park.
Michael lifted his chin stubbornly. “Well enough, Ambray.”
The other man smiled. “Good. I’ve brought you here to meet someone. An old friend who is quite looking forward to seeing you again.”
“I wasn’t aware that I had any friends, save you.” Michael would like to have equaled his cousin’s expression of sarcasm, but the truth was his jaw and left side of his face still ached terribly from the arduous trip with little rest and nothing but stale water and bread to sustain him.
“Oh, there are quite a few who are interested in your well-being, Michael, especially those who were close to your father. Now, get inside. We’ve got to make you presentable for our distinguished guest.”
Michael said nothing further. He was taken around the back of the building to what must have been the proprietor’s own home. The small cottage was as run down as was the inn, but relatively clean on the inside. Consisting of a common room and a loft sleeping area, the people who lived there were conspicuously absent. In the air lingered the scent of spiced meat and weak ale. Glancing around, Michael decided there was no way of escape, the only door being the one in which they’d entered. There was a rickety table and two chairs, both carrying scars of ill-use and great age in the center of the main living

room. In the loft above, a narrow cot with several worn, drab quilts lying in disarray upon it occupied one corner. Next to it was an armoire in which various stained garments hung and one door set at an odd angle from a broken hinge. A torn, ruddy colored rug lay on the roughly hewn wooden floor. It didn’t matter. To Michael it was a palace and he thanked heaven above for what little respite he was given.
The orderlies wasted no time in their duties. After quickly, and not too gently, removing his clothes, Mauler and Horn gave him a washing down and wrapped dingy bandages around his chest. They’d applied a thick, greasy salve to the cuts on his back and arms and dressed them as well. The entire affair left him even more weak and exhausted.
Just as they were finishing, a woman entered the cottage, carrying a plate of beef stew and two bottles of ale. Michael nearly fainted at the sight of it. One thing Mouse had accomplished in her ministrations was feeding him properly, thus arousing his appetite. He thanked her for that, because he could at least enjoy this simple fare. Out of her pocket the woman produced two hard rolls. Without saying a word, she nodded to him once and after setting up his meal, quickly went to the door. Ambray entered the room and quickly deposited a coin in her hand.
“Feeling better?” His cousin asked as Horn pulled Michael’s hands behind him and fastened them with a course rope.
“Can’t I at least feed myself, Ambray? What harm could that do? There aren’t any knives about, just a dull spoon.”
Ambray turned to Mauler, “Take off the ties for now. You can restrain him after he’s eaten.” He straightened his already impeccable clothes and seated himself across from Michael.
Michael wasted no time consuming his meal while the other man waited in silence as he did so.
“You might as well know,” he said after Michael finished the second bottle of ale, “this wasn’t my idea. I would have killed you outright years ago.”

Michael shrugged. The food and drink was acting on him like a drug. Whatever taunting Ambray planned would not be as effective as it was intended.
“What kept you from doing so? Not a sense of familial attachments, I would think.”
“Hardly. No, the gentleman we’re meeting with today is the main reason. I convinced him that you’d be a more valuable commodity alive, though not by much. I approached him several months ago, on the night of your party.
“He was a friend of my father’s?”
“More like a business associate. They both shared a common interest in the war effort.”
“Really. I wasn’t aware that my father was that much of a patriot. Judging by his anger when he learned that I’d requested a commission.”
“He was proud of you,” Ambray said quietly.
“If he was, he certainly never made it known. I was under the impression that my father was disappointed in his only son. He certainly spent more time with you.”
“You’ve never forgiven him, have you?”
“For liking you more than I? Hardly, I was glad enough that you kept him company.”
“No. I mean for your mother’s death. She never loved you, you know.”
“Really. And how is it you came by such information? Did my father tell you that as well?”
“No. He never spoke of her. But, I have eyes, you know. I came for visits then. She was the grand lady of the house, while I was her brother-in-law’s bastard. I was old enough to see things that you could not. Later, when you might have been old enough to understand, old enough to see—”
Before Ambray could speak further, a loud rapping sounded and the cabin door burst open. A white haired, older gentleman stepped through it. Wearing expensive clothes, a black topcoat and red, silk cravat it was clear he was a man of station.

“Well, well, here at last!” The loud voice boomed. “Ah, Michael! What have we here? You’ve been mistreated?”
Michael looked from his cousin’s smug face and into the eyes of a traitor.
“General Wexley,” he said, trying to keep his voice from betraying the beginnings of fear and anger, mixing volatile in his gut.
“Hello, Michael. It’s been awhile since we’ve spoken. I must say, you’re looking well, all else considered.”
Michael looked away. He could still see the General on the last day of the battle, before the attack, before he’d run into madness, before he was taken prisoner. The tall and shining officer, with brass buttons and nary a speck of mud upon his uniform. The vision of his silvery sword, ornamental because it had not been used to attack the enemy, cut into Michael’s memory. He’d remembered looking on the blade only one other time, at his trial.
I’m just returning from a holiday with my wife.” Michael spoke calmly. “I was doing a bit of fisticuffs with my cousin’s staff and I’m afraid we became carried away.”
“Indeed.” The General studied Michael a moment longer. He turned to Ambray. “Was it necessary to injure the man?”
“He required punishment. He gave us quite an upset going off as he did.” Ambray’s tone faltered a bit at the end. His self-assurance seemed to have slipped away with Wexley’s entrance.
“I will have no more mistreatment, Kelton. Do you understand? There are other ways to gain Winningham’s assistance. If, after a period of time, he decides not to help us then we can always resort to the more physical nature of persuasion.”
“As you wish, General.” He turned to Michael. “I believe you’ll find my cousin to be most uncooperative. It isn’t in his nature to be helpful, of late.”
Wexley gave him a dismissing glance. “That is because your tactics are useless. You are crass and uncivilized. When Lord Winningham understands the scope of our situation, he will change his mind. Now, leave us.”

Ambray’s face reddened. Michael could see that his cousin instantly bristled at the older man’s authority. But his cousin remained silent and left the room.
Once the door had closed on them, the General relaxed. He turned to Michael, his expression one of easing anger.
“I don’t know how you tolerate him, Michael. Your cousin is constantly a thorn in my side. I never intended him to be so highly placed in our organization. It was your father’s idea to instill him into our workings but I always objected. A man such as him is always a danger.”
Michael breathed in deeply. “Interesting that you feel that way, since it was you who gave him my guardianship. One would think that your trust in him was implicit.”
The General shrugged. “He serves his purpose well enough, I suppose. As long as he obeys our orders that’s all that is of import. He has managed quite well, you know.”
“Yes, as a matter-of-fact, I do know. Ambray has been most efficient when it comes to my affairs. He even has seen to it that I can retain the family title and estates. Quite the thinker, is our Ambray.”
“I wouldn’t go so far. He obtained you a wife at his own behest. I saw no reason to end the family name. I hear that you are soon to be a father! Congratulations, my boy!”
Michael’s fear sprang up unbidden, “I wasn’t aware that it was yet public knowledge.”
“No, well not precisely public. But, the serving class is always quick to pass on information for a price. You’ll be happy to know that your beautiful bride has become the newest darling of the ton. Poor thing, she is, saddled with the mad earl for a husband, abandoned at the cusp of her condition. I’ll warrant that every old crow and young falcon will be there at her side.”
“I’m glad she’ll have some status at least.” Michael closed his eyes briefly. “That and my money will insure her a good life.”
“Oh, come now, Michael. Don’t be so blue-bellied.” The older man reached for the wine bottle and a semi-clean glass. He carried both to the table as he continued. “You’ve yet hope for the future!”

He generously poured them both a drink and settled himself across the table.
“General, in the past I have respected your insight and judgment in most things. However, in this current situation I believe you to be misinformed.”
“That is because you do not have all the facts, my boy.”
“The facts, as you call them, are that thanks to the Government and my cousin, I have been reduced to nothing more than a cock-a-ninny in the eyes of the law. While I am blessed with a position and title, I have no access to it. Furthermore, my cousin, who you agree is an incompetent fool, has total control over my life. I am branded a madman and a traitor. There is no recourse for me.”
The older man sat silent for a moment. “I could change all of that.”
Michael gazed upward, studying his one time superior.
“How?” It was a simple enough question. And yet, as he watched, he could have sworn he’d seen a flicker of amusement in the muddy depths of the old man’s eyes.
“There are ways, my son. It really is only a matter of changing public record. Say, if it were revealed that while in Spain you were set upon by a jealous relative. Your abduction afterwards was merely the machinations of said relation in order for him to gain control of the vast family fortunes. I say, it’s not nearly so difficult to mend the situation as you might think.”
“And what about my illness? I am the mad earl, after all.”
Wexley smiled. “There is that, but you only need a sponsor, a highly regarded, well placed friend should do. Someone such as myself,” he stated plainly, leaning forward and wearing the same expression as a cat about to devour a rodent.
Michael raised the wine goblet to his lips, willing his hand not to tremble. After a deep swallow, he waited until the burning of the coarse liquid had abated. His voice stronger and his hand steadier, Michael faced the General squarely.
“And what would you gain by such an alliance?”
“The satisfaction of knowing I’d helped the son of my late friend.”
“Somehow that seems a bit contrived.”

The other man shrugged, himself taking a sip of wine. “Most likely because it is. I shall be straight with you, my boy. Your father was an efficient businessman. He carried out a successful commerce with certain French associates. He was genius enough to purchase all of the coastal properties within miles of the harbor towns. He established an entire trade route all on his own. Since his death, those routes have dwindled, entire aspects of the business have all but dried up.”
“The war is over, General. Napoleon is in exile. The time for such dealings is past.”
“Not so! There have been rumors abroad that ol’ Boney may yet return! Imagine it! When the conflict is renewed, there could be years of war.”
“You speak as if that were a good thing, General.”
“And it is! My boy, entire nations become wealthy at the drop of a flag.”
“And, all of the death and destruction that ensues are nothing more than fodder for the world’s markets?”
“Regrettable, yes, but unavoidable.”
Michael sighed. “Sir, please forgive my reticence. Ambray has already apprised me of the situation. He has implored me to give him the ************************************************************ **** of the trade routes, the caves where he believes there to be hidden treasures. Whatever either of you believe, the secrets my father held have died with him. I cannot help you.”
The General sat quietly, sipping his wine and not commenting on Michael’s statement. Before he spoke, he gently returned the glass to the table.
“I know that, Michael. I understand completely. However, I am not one to dwell on the past. What I require of you now is to help me in reestablishing those routes. Together we can build an empire of trade that will make us both wealthy beyond belief.”
“I am already wealthy,” he stated tiredly. “If it’s money you require, then you may have all my fortunes.”
The General leaned forward. “My boy, there are other aspects of wealth besides money. There is power. Think on it! Never again


would you have to bow your head to the aristocracy. Never subjugate to the military.”
As he spoke, the older man’s face turned a deep shade of crimson, his cheeks swelling and his breath becoming shorter.
Michael nodded. “You can have all that without me,” he stated quietly.
“Not precisely,” Wexley stated, “your father was particular in his contacts. He protected himself by not betraying his allies. It is my belief that you and you alone may be able to strike up the old friendships.”
“I see. And, if I cannot?”
Wexley’s cheerful expression dwindled. “Let us just hope that it doesn’t come to that.” He took another sip of his wine. “I’ve heard that your wife is well ensconced with her family.”
Michael felt his blood run cold. “Yes. She has two sisters in London with whom she is staying until I can provide her a proper home. Her stepmother sold her father’s manse.”
“Yes. Well, while I wouldn’t want anything unforeseen to happen to her, you must realize that there is always the possibility of problems.”
“I am aware,” Michael stated quietly. “If I don’t cooperate with you, then it’ll be Miranda who suffers.”
“I’d rather not consider something so atrocious. Think of the benefits of our arrangement! Consider instead, you returning home a well man. You could move your wife to the country and live life the way you were meant to live.”
“All for the betrayal of my country. A life of ease and freedom in trade for becoming a traitor. You propose a difficult choice, sir.”
“What I propose is the opportunity of a lifetime, Michael.”
Michael glanced up. A shadow passed by the ************************************************************ **** He knew the cold stare as easily as his own reflection. In an instant, the shape was gone, but the vision of his fair-haired cousin remained. Chances were Ambray had heard their entire conversation.
Michael smiled up at Wexley. Indeed, the fox may yet be in danger from the hound.
“You realize that we could both be hung, if we’re caught?”

“There is always the risk of discovery. I have made a career out of covering my tracks. There is only one person who can be connected to our dealings. Your esteemed cousin. Should anything unforeseen happen…”
“You’d sell him out in an instant.”
“Precisely. As I told you before, Ambray does have his usefulness.”
“And who’s to say that you wouldn’t do the same for me? No. I’m afraid General that I cannot be of help to you. Aside from the fact that I was as far removed from my father’s confidences as is Napoleon from French shores, I will not help you to commit treason.”
Wexley’s expression darkened. “Even though I have well proven ways of persuasion? I remind you that I was often in charge of interrogating French prisoners. I did much towards furthering our country’s knowledge of enemy intentions.”
“I have no doubt, sir. In fact, in a twisted sort of way, you’d be doing me a favor.” Michael sent his gaze downward. “In my present state, I have no freedom, no ability to be a proper husband, or father. My wife would fare much better if I were dead.”
“You truly believe that? Then you are a bigger fool than your pitiful cousin. No, I don’t think I shall kill you, Michael, as entertaining as that might prove. But I shall hurt you very badly.” Wexley shrugged. “You don’t want that, my boy. Let’s save us both a lot of trouble and begin our association anew, eh?”
“I’m afraid not, sir. I must decline.”
The General regarded him carefully. “You are a fool, Michael.”
“Am I?”
“You think you can outlast any actions I order against you. You support a government that has effectively reduced you to nothing more than an imbecile and will give your life to patriotism, despite all the evidence against you. Worse than that, you trust a doddering old fool like the Duke of Throckmorten to protect your wife.”
“I’ve heard it said that that ‘old fool’ has a great many friends in the peerage. I would wager that he could be quite effective at protecting his family.”

Michael knew his words were mostly bluster, that in fact he was fearful of any harm befalling Mouse. He couldn’t let the General know that. His own confidence in the Duke’s abilities could go far in protecting his wife.
“I’ve had enough of this bantering, Winningham. Will you help me renew the trade with France?”
Michael swallowed back the ball of ice that had formed in his throat. He knew his next words would decide his future, his and Mouse’s. Heaven help him, he could not be a traitor, nor would he give Wexley the satisfaction of seeing his fear.
“No,” Michael stated evenly.
“More’s the pity.” Wexley pushed his glass back and stood up to his full height. “You shall regret your decision, Michael. I assure you.”
Michael nodded only once, but spoke no further as the general turned and exited the cottage. His only regret came from knowing that he would likely not live to see his wife again.

Mouse paced the small parlor for what must have been the hundredth time that afternoon. Barely a week had passed since her discussion with Arthur and there’d been no word of Michael. She knew it was too early to really expect anything. Surely Arthur’s associate hadn’t had the time to gain access to Michael’s home, let alone find any new information and send a message back. Still, Mouse felt restless and fearful of what news might come. Was her husband well? Was he being fed? Or, were they filling him with laudanum and spirits and that awful broth that she’d come to loathe during her stay at Rosecliff?
Unable to embroider or settle her nerves long enough to read one of the vast tomes from her brother-in-law’s library, Mouse settled for standing in front of the large French windows that looked out over the drive. Many long afternoons she’d stood on that very spot and watched for her husband’s ill fitted, ancient carriage to come trundling down the lane.
Just as Mouse was about to give up and return to her room for an afternoon rest, something or someone rattled around the perimeter of the estate. She watched as the rose bushes, so delicately planted and cared for, jerked awkwardly around, one by one. It could have been a dog or a cat and, in fact, she was nearly certain that must be it. But the movement seemed purposeful as the mysterious visitor discreetly made its way away from the main building. Mouse suddenly felt the urge to go outside and discover the lurker, to set him or her to rights.

Pulling up her skirts, she left the parlor and made her way into the gardens. Just as she turned around a hedgerow, the shed door closed. Mouse’s curiosity piqued she quickstepped it through the last of the irises and slipped quietly into the outbuilding at the farthest corner of the property.
In the dwindling light, Mouse could make out a bent figure to one corner of the shed.
“Who’s there? Michael?” As the form stood and her eyes adjusted to the dimness, Mouse could see a shorter, more slender form.
“Tom.” Feeling both disappointed at it not being her husband and relieved that the young man was still alive, she sagged against the doorframe.
“Aye, my Lady, it’s me.” His voice was quiet, and strangely coarse.
“I can’t see you, are you all right?”
“Well enough,” he told her.
A match struck and Tom stepped forward with a lighted candle. His face was bruised and swollen, his eyes rimmed with dark circles. A large gash that was a sickly yellowish green could be seen just below the hairline on his left forehead.
“My goodness, Tom! What happened?”
“Them’s what happened. Those men hired by Lord Winningham’s cousin. They gave me a good round of their fists before they hauled me to the docks. They were going to ship me out on a merchant vessel but I managed to escape.”
“How terrible. You must come inside immediately. The Duke isn’t home right now but he’ll be here this evening. You must tell him your story.”
The younger man shrank back. “Oh, no milady, I can’t. If word got out, they’d have me arrested, or worse. His lordship’s cousin said he’d had charges brought up. My only choice was to sail or be thrown to the Runners.”
“But we know you’re innocent.”
“It makes no matter if I’m pinched before you could bring a case, I’d be hung.”

Mouse’s spirits fell. She knew that Tom was telling the truth. Even with Arthur’s intervention there was no guarantee of the man’s safety. Accidents happen in life, especially with the promise of a hefty purse.
“What can we do? I have a bit of money, perhaps we can get you out of the country.”
“Aw, your ladyship. I would feel something bad for taking your money. I doubt that Mister Kelton is going to be very generous with his lordship’s wealth.”
“I’m not worried about that right now. We must get you safe.”
“I’ll be all right, Missus. I’m more worried about Lord Winningham.”
“He’s gone back to Rosecliff. He chose to go with his cousin instead of staying with me.”
The younger man looked at her solidly. “Is that what you believe, for certain?”
Mouse hesitated. “Of course, not. But he made the statements in full view of my family. I can’t refute him in their eyes. And now with my ‘condition’, they aren’t willing to let me go after him. Unless I manage an escape more daring than the one which took us from Rosecliff in the first place, I fear I will spend my days here.”
“Perhaps it’s for the best then. Lord Winningham would not want any harm to come to you.”
Mouse shook her head disagreeing. “I’m not happy leaving his lordship to Ambray’s care, either. I’ll just have to insist that Arthur do something to get Michael released. There has got to be some way to get him away from there.”
“Never you mind, my lady,” Tom said quietly. “As soon as I get a bit of food and a night’s sleep, I’ll go back to the manse. Maybe I could convince his lordship to come back to London.”
“Maybe,” Mouse stated thoughtfully. “Just in case, I’ll speak to the Duke again. For now, you just rest. I think it would be safe for you to stay here the night, though the accommodations aren’t the best. I can have a cot brought in and some blankets.”
“Thank you, you’re my lady. Don’t worry, I’ll get the earl back here safe and sound.”

Mouse nodded absently. Before she could make her exit, she heard the sound of an approaching carriage. Peering out the door, she watched her brother-in-law step down from the cab. With a nod from him, the driver turned the carriage away and back out onto the street. Within moments the Duke entered the house. Mouse said a brief good-bye and set off after him.
~ * ~
She found the Duke in his suite of offices. The hard, polished wood gave the room a warm ambiance. A heady, lemon oil scent greeted her, mixed with the ever-present male tang of tobacco. Mouse breathed it in deeply. The atmosphere in the room very much reminded her of her scholarly father and the many nights she’d sat beside him before a stack of papers he’d been composing to send to his many colleagues.
The Duke did not stir as she approached him. He was seated at a mahogany desk; his concentration set on a stack of journals.
“Excuse me, Arthur,” Mouse began tentatively. It was true in the weeks that had passed she had gained a new respect for her sister’s husband. In fact, she was surprised at a growing fondness for him.
“Yes, dear one?” Arthur looked up from his books.
“I was wondering if you’d gotten any news of Michael?” Mouse couldn’t help but ask the question once again, as she had every day for the last two weeks.
A tinge of sadness danced upon his face. “Well, there’s been no news from Rosecliff, but…” Arthur hesitated, “I have gotten word of a different sort.”
Mouse stepped back, abruptly setting herself on the edge of the sofa. Gleaning his expression, she knew instantly that it could not have been good news. Arthur looked away from her, his gaze seeking out any one of the polished, framed paintings that adorned the study.
“What have you heard?” Mouse managed to say, her voice trembling nearly as much as her knees at that moment.
Taking in a deep breath, the Duke rose from his desk and walked to stand in front of her. Kneeling, he took both of her hands from her lap, enclosing them in his firm, protective grasp.

Despite Arthur’s kind manner, Mouse couldn’t quell the dread that rose in her. She felt a thick fog of despair wrapping itself around her, coiling like one of those python snakes she’d once read about.
“Before I share this information with you, Miranda, you must promise me two things. First, you must not tell anyone of our exchange. To do so would be the height of disaster. And, second, you must not make any judgment until we are completely certain that what I’m about to tell you has been proven as fact.”
With a curt nod, Mouse agreed. It didn’t matter. She could not have spoken otherwise, even if she’d managed to find her voice amidst the turmoil of her emotions.
Arthur slightly tightened his grip on her hands. “There have been many rumors rolling through the halls of Parliament, as there always are. Some, are founded in truth, others are more insidious. Lies, plain and simple, spread in order to defame otherwise honest and innocent men. Like any human institution, our government is not without its faults, weaknesses, and excesses. However, I have heard, on relatively reliable grounds, about a situation that has been brewing in the area of the northern coast. It’s been going on for some time, and frankly, I never gave it much credence. If we were to take seriously every threat of treachery that crosses the threshold, we’d spend all of our time chasing down rumors and none doing the important work of government.”
“These rumors are about Michael?” Mouse prompted, her impatience growing by the second.
“Not in the beginning, they weren’t. When your husband left for Spain, he was considered to be among the bravest, most valued men in service. In fact, most of his superiors considered the serious young man to be quite an asset to an already beleaguered fighting force.”
“Michael is a worthy man, Arthur. He’s just been mistreated.”
“I want very much to believe that, Miranda. However, shortly after he left for war, it was suspected that his father might have been using his estate’s coastal ************************************************************ **** to aide the French.”
“How?” Mouse asked, leaning forward until her face was a scant few inches from Arthur’s.

“There were different stories. Some stated that he’d harbored spies in the caves that line the coast. Still others allude to him financing the smuggling ships that carried goods across English blockades.”
Mouse shook her head. “But why should he do such a thing?”
“The only true reason for such abominable activities I can summon, is that of greed, pure and simple. The former Earl of Winningham was a man of considerably high taste and low pockets. He’d wasted a great deal of his family inheritance on shaky business dealings and gaming. In my own experience I barely knew the man. He was among the ton and that was a time in my youth that I was more concerned with my own status in business and family than that of my peers. However, I believe that I’d heard him often referred to as extravagant and frivolous. In fact, as I remember it, it was quite the surprise when he landed a marriage to the Canton heiress. A great riot, it was, her being of such a good family and all.”
“Michael’s mother,” Mouse muttered sadly.
“Another distressing situation,” the Duke agreed.
“Arthur, what has all this to do with Michael?”
“With the earl’s death and Michael’s ascension to the title, the rumors died down a bit. It was hoped by most of us that Michael would not succumb to his paternal lineage of suspicion and deceit and take more from his mother’s gentle upbringing.”
“Michael is very much like his mother, as I understand.”
“Except for his deplorable choice of guardians, I’d agree. I did a bit of investigation and I’ve uncovered some most disturbing news. Ambray Kelton was known quite well on the gambling circuit but not for his skill at Faro. It was said that many nights he’d robbed the innocent of their winnings by cheating. While he was called on it a few times, there had been no proof. Some even eluded that he’d gained an accomplice. A woman by the name of Haversham. She’d work on distracting unsuspecting gamers, while young Kelton would sweep the winnings clean.”
“Haversham? Elsbeth!”
“I suspect it was your late stepmother. There is a particularly disturbing story about the two of them luring Lord Dandridge’s son, Henry, from one of the gaming houses. That boy has been missing for

five years. Of course, there is no proof of duplicity. Never was a body found, and young Kelton joined the army after that and became a decorated hero, as I understand it.”
“But what has all this to do with Michael? Was he involved in Ambray’s dealings as well?”
“Not that we’re aware of. No, Michael remained at Rosecliff during most of that time, managing his father’s estates.” He hesitated. “But, after the fourth earl died, young Michael was expected to run the family affairs. As you well know, he was injured and himself under suspicion of foul play when he’d been captured in Spain.”
“It was a horrible time for Michael. If you heard him speak of it, you would know it was true.”
“I do not doubt it. Many of our brave men have suffered greatly. Since Michael’s return to Rosecliff the tongues have been wagging. There is suspicion that the French are trying to finance another war effort. And Michael, because of the ************************************************************ **** of his family estate, as well as his association with Ambray, has become suspect.”
“Michael is innocent, he’s been too sick to take part in such intrigues. Surely anyone who’s seen him these past months could attest to that.”
“I would believe so, Miranda. But given the ill climate that surrounded his father, the gray cast that was set upon him in Spain, then his first wife’s death—”
“Most would assume him guilty as charged,” Mouse finished. “They cannot hold his father’s nor his cousin’s duplicity against him.”
“While I personally believe each man should be granted his own honor until proven otherwise, most of society does not. Unfortunately for your husband, often times the sins of the fathers are rested upon the sons.”
“So, that’s it, then? Michael is to be judged guilty. What will happen to him?”
“First, there will be an inquiry. I was told that papers are being drawn up in the next few days. Some are even alluding to an arrest, though that is jumping the fence a bit. I have heard that the Crown is about to put a freeze on Winningham’s accounts, though there is nothing solid as yet. It wouldn’t surprise me if that happened sooner

rather than later. The Prince Regent has been known to dip into other men’s pockets under the guise of the law.”
“I see. Well, Michael never cared much for money. It’s his state of mind that worries me the most. He’s so solitary, except for Ambray, that is. He has no friends who could even speak to his character!”
“There is more, Miranda,” the Duke stated somberly, “Someone within the government is supporting the French activities as well. There are those that think Michael has a supporter in the House, or perhaps even in the army. It is not known, but if an association is uncovered, then it will be a scandal of massive proportion. Even now, with very little evidence of malfeasance, some are clamoring for justice.”
Mouse clutched her chest. “If Michael is found guilty of treason, they’ll hang him!”
“Dear one, do not fret just yet. As I have said, I shall myself finance an investigation and council for Winningham. I’ll not allow your husband to be carted off so easily.”
“Thank you, Arthur. I don’t know how to repay your generosity.”
“There is nothing to repay, sweet Miranda. I assure you, the two of you are Kitty’s family, and mine as well.”
~ * ~
Michael lay in a haze of pain. He knew when the morning came and when the sun descended but little else. Food and drink were brought to him sparingly, though he’d not the stomach for much of it. Other times, he was visited by Ambray, who maintained a silent vigil, just coming to stand in the darkness and glower over Michael’s condition.
No longer under the guise of his cousin’s concern, he was now being confined in one of the many cellars which sat quietly beneath Rosecliff. Michael didn’t mind so much, at least not as much as when he was prisoner in Spain. There were worse things that he could suffer. Though he lay in the corner on a straw mat with a thin blanket as covering, Michael was appreciative of what little light came in from a window that was set up on the far side of the room. The small amount of sunlight reminded him that there was yet another world beyond his wall. A world where Mouse was safe in her family’s

embrace. Where men and women lived and breathed free air and children played in the summer afternoons, oblivious to the tragedy of war and the greed of mankind.
Michael tried to move again, to find some small comfort. But he was held in a straight waistcoat, and his mobility was severely hampered. And the itching, god, the itching! The garment had not been washed in some time, and this, mixed with his own lacking hygiene and the vermin which had decided to share his bedding, added to his general discomfort.
Worse than his state of living quarters, was definitely his state of mind. Michael had been having more spells. Between the nightmares that woke him screaming at night and the memories that flooded him during the day, he was at the height of his misery. Indeed, he found himself wishing that Wexley and Ambray’s patience would soon run its course and they would dispose of him as neatly as they had suggested earlier on. For the moment, that was not to be the case.
That morning when Ambray visited, another man followed behind him. A stranger, of medium height and build, the second man had a tough look about him. His slender frame carried wiry, corded muscles. Though he could have been any member of the working class, he was clothed in a faded white shirt, with black britches and much used leather boots, the man’s appearance wore an expression of sharpness that spoke of a different vocation. A soldier, then, Michael thought. But not the usual manner of foot soldier, to be certain.
“This is his lordship,” Ambray was telling him, “make certain you take special care of him. Lord Wexley has left express orders that he is not to be harmed, though what’s to be said if he doesn’t suffer a few bruises from his own unsteadiness? Just keep him intact.”
“Aye, sir. That I shall. You can trust Timothy O’Malley to treat him like a sweet babe.”
“Whatever it takes, O’Malley. Just keep him alive. I am hoping you’ll do better than Mr. Mauler or Mr. Horn.”
Ambray turned on his heel and left them. With a thoughtful expression, the newcomer knelt down in front of Michael and carefully studied him for a moment.

In an Irish lilt he asked, “What I’m wondering is, what a man does to get himself in such a stramash?”
Michael barely breathed, looking away from his new keeper. He’d not give the man the satisfaction of knowing how frightened Ambray’s words had made him or of the depth of despair that he felt at that moment.
“Well, a talker, aren’t we? No matter. As the O’Malley clan is fond of saying, it only takes one of us to make a fête.”
Michael only kept his eyes away, not daring to answer. Before he could draw another breath, he felt a hand upon his arm. It was not the strike he’d expected, nor was it a comforting touch. It was a firm grasp, one that offered support and something else. Something he’d only felt once before, only in the presence of Mouse. Hope.
“There, Laddie,” O’Malley stated quietly, “don’t be distressed. Whether you know it or not, I come by way of a good ally. And it looks to my bonnie blue eyes, you’re in dire need of a friend.”
With that, O’Malley left the room, but not before he loosened the restraints on Michael’s wrists.
~ * ~
Mouse was beside herself with worry. She’d paced her rooms until she was certain to have worn holes in the Aubisson carpet. Worse yet, she’d not come up with a single answer to her problems. Arthur had tried to offer her words of comfort and support, and she greatly appreciated his efforts. But Michael was in terrible trouble and no amount of kind words and well intentions were going to change that. Just as she was about to retire for the evening, a slight knock came upon her door.
“Excuse me, milady,” announced an elderly man’s voice. Quickly she crossed the room, and answered the call. She opened the door to find the gardener, Raul standing nervously outside her room. She could see that he’d been hard at work in the garden, his elderly form still wearing the scent of flowers, newly cut grass, and the rich soil that he worked in.
“Yes?”

“I am sorry to be disturbing you, Missus,” he stated quietly, “But I was out trimming the bushes, when a young lad came sneaking through the roses.”
“How odd. What did he want?”
“Wouldn’t say much, but instead gave me this.” Raul held out a piece of parchment.
Quickly she took the note from him. Opening it, she read the message inside, the words written there cutting her like a knife.
Lady Winningham,
Your husband is gravely ill, though his caretaker is not the least distressed at the matter. I fear that his health will fail him before the season ends. He has been calling for you, his state of mind dwindling fast. I urge you to make the journey back north, to comfort him in what might prove to be his last hours. I have tried to befriend him the best I could, but my employ with Mr. Kelton is not secure. I am not sure how much longer I can help Lord Winningham. Please come soon, and be careful not to tell your family, for if they were to contact the Earl’s cousin, it would surely prove disastrous to us all.
Sincerely, a friend.
Clutching the note in her hands, Mouse tried to decide her best course of action. Before she could make a move, though, she realized that Raul stood looking at her, his expression questioning the *******s of the letter.
“Not bad news, I trust, my Lady?”
Mouse swallowed her fear a moment. “I’m afraid so, Raul. A friend of my father’s has taken ill and the dear old thing is requesting me to come to her bedside. Such a sweet soul she is. I can hardly refuse her. Would you be so kind as to tell the groom to ready a carriage? I shall be making a trip to the Lakes and I should like to start out first thing in the morning.”
The Mad Earl Pam Labud
210
“Aye, milady. But shouldn’t you wait until the Duke and Duchess return from the country? They should be back by tomorrow eve at the latest?”
Mouse gave her best attempt at a laugh. “There is no need. My sister will surely understand. I’ll just leave them a note and they can come and join me if they wish. Though, I doubt my sister is in condition for another trip so soon after visiting the Darrowby’s.” The couple had left that morning, shortly after Mouse’s talk with the Duke and for once she was glad of their absence. By the time her family could guess at which direction she was truly headed, she’d be halfway to Rosecliff.
“Tell the groom I wish to leave immediately.”
~ * ~
It was just after dusk when Mouse’s modest carriage arrived at the small inn. Dingy and unkempt, the building looking as did most in this part of the country. Plain from chipped paint and rotted wood, it was unlikely that many of the gentry had visited the inn recently. The eaves drooped, heavy with weight of the recent rain and the barrels beneath were full to overflowing leaving small puddles around them. Mouse was hoping that it was dry and warm on the inside, as she gathered her skirts and exited the carriage.
“Here, milady,” Tom called down to her, himself climbing down from the driver’s seat. By his stiff movements Mouse could see that he was still suffering the results of his attack. His right eye remained blackened and he guarded his left arm carefully as he walked up to her.
“Are you sure we should stop here for the night, milady?” He said, giving the well-used inn a suspicious glance.
“Tom, there’s not a place for miles and neither you nor the animals can go on much farther. You’ll collapse if you continue.” Tom looked away for a moment. Mouse could see that he’d drive the carriage to hell and back for her and Michael. She tried not to become irritated with him, but she was a creature of good sense and she knew very well the consequences if they didn’t rest sometime soon.

“Besides, if you should not be able to carry on, what would happen to me? A woman alone on the road, I’d stand a much less chance of making it to Rosecliff without you, Tom.”
The younger man’s features softened. “Aye, your ladyship. I suppose that’s true.”
“Good. Now, go take care of the horses and I’ll see about getting our lodging for the night.”
“Oh, your ladyship, please, I’ll manage in the carriage for the night. You needn’t pay for me a room as well.”
Mouse nodded, noting the practicality of it. “Just another night or two, Tom. Then I promise you we’ll get better lodgings.” She stated quietly.
Entering the small inn, Mouse noted that it was as much poorly managed on the inside as well as the outside. The walls of the common room wore many years of smoke and filth from the constant crowding of people. She also noted the pungent odor of unwashed bodies mixed with sour ale. In one corner sat a large pot of stew bubbling away on the hearth, on the other a set of rickety tables. Though each one was occupied, in the midst of the squalor a finely dressed, older gentleman sat alone. Before Mouse could turn to leave, the stranger beckoned her over to his table.
“Ah, a lady in distress!” He called out congenially. “Please, Miss, come share a table with an old man. It would make my evening pass much more pleasantly than merely being stuck with my own company.”
Mouse felt the blush rise to her cheeks and she nodded. While she was a bit shy of strangers in general, this man seemed harmless enough, and since there were no tables empty, the situation made the decision for her.
Instantly the man motioned for one of the attendants of the small inn. In moments, Mouse sat quietly listening to the older man bramble on about the weather and traveling. She watched the door constantly, waiting for Tom to appear through it at any second.
“I do hope that you will be staying on a bit. I must say, there aren’t many of the gentler nature around for a gentleman to converse with.”

“I am only staying the night, sir. I have a cousin in the north that is disparately ill and I fear the worst.”
“My condolences, Miss. It is so distressing to hear one so young encumbered by such sad circumstance. As it is, I am headed north myself. I am retired military and I’ve decided to spend my reclining years visiting my family’s country home. That and business dealings there conspire to keep me on these muddy roads.”
He winked conspiratorially and tipped his glass. “My name is Wexley, General Benton Wexley.”
“Miranda Ellerton,” Mouse nodded watching the innkeeper pour her a glass of wine. “I wish you a good journey, sir. I thank you for the conversation and the wine. But I must go check on my driver. It’s been a long journey and I’m sure he’s ready to turn in. I need to give him some instructions with my conveyance. Tom is a good man, you know, very protective of me.”
When Mouse moved to stand, Wexley reached out to her. “Have you booked a room for the night?”
Pausing, Mouse felt a catch in her chest. “I have not as yet. I need to speak with the proprietor to discuss finances. I left in such haste there wasn’t time to make the arrangements. I’m rather riding by the seat of my pantalets, you know.”
“I have it on good word that there aren’t many rooms here in decent repair and those that are, have already been rented. If you would allow me, I have a room at the back and you may rest there for the night. I find I’ve not much need for sleep these days. A malady of the elderly, I’m afraid. A delicate lady as yourself may take a chill if you persist against the elements.”
Mouse sat back, sending a worried glance to the door. “I appreciate your kindness, sir, but I don’t wish to intrude upon your good nature.”
“Ah, there’s nothing to intrude upon. My valet, Mr. Stones, feels that he must see to my every comfort, but an old war horse such as I prefers sleeping in less comfortable lodgings. To be sure, the only soft bed I require is the casket and I’m not yet ready for that.” He finished with a laugh.

“If you’re sure,” Mouse began. The truth was she was exhausted and the wine and the journey had conspired against her.
“Absolutely,” he managed with a smile. “And, do not worry about your man. I shall have Stones go after him. The two can share the stable room I’ve rented. You see, it all works for the best.”
Mouse reluctantly agreed. Within the hour she’d retired to her host’s room. Though small and well used, the tiny compartment had been cleaned and fresh linens had been placed out for her. With a sigh, she walked to the window and peered out into the night. Ten minutes before, Tom came to inform her that the carriage and horses had been settled for the night. In fact, he’d eaten himself and secured a place to sleep. With Mouse’s last responsibilities dispensed, she settled herself into the lumpy bed. Exhaustion swept over her and in a few moments, she was drifting off to sleep. At the edge of her senses, she could hear the distant sound of voices whispering. A part of her mind insisted upon new fears, that something might be terribly wrong, a niggling sense that she might be in danger. Mouse decided that it must be her own exhaustion affecting her judgments. Of course, she had never been one to beg off easily.
A new thought occurred to her. Perhaps she had cause to be concerned. After all, how fortunate was it that she should find a benefactor in so remote a place when she was in most need? Indeed, what if it was some evil plan, which somehow led back to Michael? Could she be placing herself in danger?
Mouse wanted very much to consider her new suspicions but a fog had drifted into her mind. Thinking it must be the wine, she tried to relax her thoughts and allow herself to tumble into sleep. But that small voice asked her once again, what if they’d drugged her wine? Before she could think more along the line of that idea, she heard a noise. Someone had indeed entered her room.
“Miss Ellerton! You must come quickly. Your groom has taken ill!”
An old woman’s voice shook her. Mouse roused quickly and in moments had her dressing gown wrapped around her. Stumbling across the now empty dining hall, she made her way to the door and running out to the stable yard. Inside the barn they heard the noise of

a sick man retching while other guests milled about commenting on his condition.
“Ne’re seen a body spout so much,” one of the boys noted. Pushing past the crowd, Mouse saw Tom, lying on a straw bed, curled on his side and breathing heavily.
“Tom! What’s wrong?” She asked, kneeling down beside him. “What happened?”
Before her friend could answer, another pushed through the gathering. “Here, Mr. Stone, see to the young man,” Wexley ordered. “It looks as if he’s taken the ague. That or been poisoned.”
Mouse looked up at him, “Who would do such a thing? We have no enemies here.”
“Oh, to be sure, Miss.” Wexley patted her back gently. “But a young woman traveling alone. Could be someone meant to rob you, or worse. I doubt we’ll find the culprit tonight. Let us take him into a room upstairs. I have sent Mr. Stone for a physician. We shall see to him.”
In the next few moments, Tom was carried inside to a small attic room. Mouse stayed by his side, offering him sips of water and bits of bread. After a time he settled and she left to return to her room. In the hall she met the General.
“How fares the boy, Miss?” He asked, his expression one of concern.
“He’s resting better, though I’m not sure as to what caused his malady. He tells me that he only ate a bit of stew.”
The general cleared his throat, “I couldn’t help but notice that he sports a few bruises. Could the young man have made an unfortunate acquaintance?”
Mouse shook her head. “He’d been attacked in London a few weeks ago. Terrible thing. Someone stole his horse and a sum of money, leaving him for dead. Fortunately, Tom found his way home. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” As much as she’d hated lying, Mouse couldn’t tell him the true details of their journey.
“Has he seen anyone he might have recognized from the attack?”
“No. Not that he’s mentioned.”

“Well, perhaps it is nothing but a bit of bad beef causing his problem. I didn’t eat any of the stew myself. I tend to get peptic. Not to worry, Miss. I shall have a word with the Innkeeper just in case, to see if anyone else has fallen ill.”
Mouse nodded her thanks. “I really do appreciate all of your help. I swear I don’t know what I shall do if Tom doesn’t get better soon. I am so worried about my friend.”
“Then think on it no more, Miss. I shall take you!”
“But, sir, I wouldn’t dare to impose on you. You surely have your own plans to complete. And, uh, my friend’s home is rather remote.”
“Nonsense! I would like nothing more than to accompany you. My own plans are nothing so important that they cannot be changed. In fact, I welcome the diversion.”
For a moment Mouse struggled with the decision to accept the man’s help once again.
“Well, if it wouldn’t be any trouble,” she began.
“Absolutely none. Though, not quite as pleasant as your rig, my carriage has kept an old man at ease for many miles.”
“I’m sure it will be fine, sir. When were you planning to leave?”
“I prefer to travel at night. So, you have the day to get rested and ********************************************************ed. That should give us time to see if your young friend is too seriously ill.”
“Thank you, General. I owe you a great deal for you kindness.”
“You are very welcome, my dear.”
Mouse returned to her own room, meaning only to rest a short while. But, when her head settled on the pillow, she fell into a fitful sleep. Her worry for Michael, and now Tom as well, weighed heavy on her mind, but there was nothing to be done for the moment. The chill of the night settled over her, but it came from within as well. How could she possibly care for both men?
~ * ~
A loud creaking sound shattered the night. Michael lay in darkness on the dirt floor of his prison. At times he was certain that he was merely having a nightmare. Others that he was back in Spain. If he tried hard enough he could scent the lingering smell of the grave, of a battlefield left too long unattended.

“Time to wake up, Lord Winningham,” a man’s voice roused him.
Michael opened one eye. It was the new attendant Ambray had hired, Timothy O’Malley. Not quite as tall as himself, but his length was sinewy, his frame beset with a sturdy build. Though he’d rather be left alone, Michael was relieved that it was the attendant and not his cousin. Less and less he’d seen of Ambray and for the time, it suited him well.
“Go away,” Michael muttered, though the effort to oppose his caretakers had long since died out of him.
“Nonsense, Lord Winningham. There is much to be done and you must be rid of these blue devils. I hear you have a brave lady awaiting your return. Now, be a good sort and eat for me.”
Michael came to with a start. Pulling himself to a sitting position, he gave his new keeper a wary look. “What are you talking about?”
“I am talking about your getting well enough to get back to your wife. A pretty thing, she is.” Kneeling down, O’Malley stated. He held out a small jug of water and a covered dish.
Cautiously, Michael took both from him. He’d no appetite for days and now his stomach twisted at the thought of food. It was the laudanum they’d been giving him. Half the time, he’d barely managed to keep that down.
“What do you know of my wife?”
“Only that she’s worried about you. You should have asked for help, my Lord. To take this whole business on alone is clearly foolish.”
“There is no one I could turn to. I already stand condemned by the military. I am either insane or a traitor in their eyes. Who would listen to the ramblings of the poor mad earl?” He asked, taking a small sip from the water bottle.
“There are those that have been listening for a bit. But who, I’m not able to say, just yet. The truth of it is you, sir, are at the heart of a very large intrigue. Others might be involved who stand to gain much by your complicity. There are those who stand to lose much as well.”
“And, all of it hinges on me? I find that harder to swallow than the boiled lamb. It seems as if you’ve been indulging in one of those late night stories that are so popular these days.”

“On the contrary, sir, I am nothing but a public servant.”
“Who just happens to be employed by my cousin?”
“For the time being. My situation is not of import here, sir. Yours is.”
“Are you a soldier?”
O’Malley smiled, “Of a sort, but not the kind that you were. I have a different vocation.”
“I see. If I am to be convinced that you are here to help me, then you must give me some bit of proof that I can trust you.”
“Unfortunately, I have none, save my word. I will not allow you to be beaten or starved. Beyond that, I can promise nothing.” O’Malley turned to leave. “Oh, and one other thing, I have not yet decided whether or not you stand guilty of any crimes as yet. Count it fortunate that you’ll not have to prove your innocence to me. Your actions from now on may save you. My advice is simple. You must behave yourself. Cooperate with your cousin, do what you must to stay alive until this scandal is exposed. If for no other reason, than for your wife. She’ll need you close by when this is all through.”
O’Malley nodded as he left the room. Michael had a dozen questions. At the bottom of them all was his wanting to know how Mouse fared. He’d remembered Ambray’s and Wexley’s threats. Those were questions he didn’t dare ask. He wanted very much for his captors to forget that his wife was so vulnerable. Knowing that he could deny them nothing if they threatened Mouse, Michael would truly betray his country then.
When Michael closed his eyes, he could only think of his wife. It would have been better, he knew, if he’d managed to close his heart to Mouse. So long he’d been without a kind word or a caring embrace, it was like a gentle breeze when she caressed him. Even now, with weeks since their separation his skin still tingled where she’d last touched him, her hands upon his face. He also remembered clearly the pain and question in her eyes. He’d hurt her badly this time and the crush of it would weigh upon him for eternity.
It was in those quiet moments, being visited by the thoughts of his wife, when Michael prayed. If ever he should find a way out of this hodgepodge, he asked that he be given one more chance with Mouse.

He didn’t care the consequences. But, as he spoke the litany of his loves, he knew also that a fate that had never been kind to him, would surely not give in to him now.
~ * ~
The past few days of travel left Mouse entirely exhausted. Add to the fact that her sleep had been uneven, she missed Tom’s quiet companionship and she was sick with worry about her husband, her misery was nearly complete. The General had been exceedingly nice to her. She could fault him for nothing as the day carried them closer to Rosecliff. But it was extremely difficult to be one’s polite-self every moment of the day. After a few days of being bounced upon the roadway, Mouse was at the end of her tattered nerves.
Also plaguing her was her lie. How was she to explain to Wexley about that? Of course, she’d not been planning to visit a friend. Without Tom to help her cover her deceit, she knew it would be difficult at best. At worst, she would look like a foolish female, which in its own way was not entirely a bad thing. It was just that Mouse hated appearing muddleheaded.
What made the trip even more unbearable was the constant fear for Michael. She was certain that her husband was being abused. His life was in danger and she was powerless to help him.
Neither did the weather help them. It was nearing the end of winter and the cold and dampness were vying for control over the elements. Mouse was certain that everything was conspiring against her in her flight to rescue Michael.
“Not too much farther, I hope,” the General smiled at her. Mouse returned the gesture, though it pained her greatly.
“No. Less than a day.” Mouse hedged. She knew she must breach the subject of Rosecliff, and had spent long hours deciding on how best to cover her story.
“Actually,” she began, “I need to be brought a bit farther than Darrowby.”
“Where does your friend reside?” He asked, his face never wavering. “I assure you, it will be no hindrance on our trip. I have so enjoyed having a companion, I am thinking of staying on, just so that you and I may make the return trip.”

Mouse’s breath left her. The horror of such an occurrence struck her squarely. For a moment no words came to her mouth. More lies! She knew she’d best come up with something quickly or the situation could become far worse.
“That is most generous of you, sir,” she stammered a moment more. “But, I, that is, my friend, Hattie is in the employ of the Earl of Winningham and I am most certain that they will see to my needs.”
“The earl? What a coincidence! I’d forgotten that his country estate was so near.”
Mouse swallowed, her mouth dry, making her speech even more difficult. “You know the earl?”
“Oh yes, poor boy. Served under me in Spain, both he and his cousin. Such a tragedy. Now, with his house staff ill, it is beyond the pale to think of what his family must be suffering.”
“Oh,” Mouse stated quietly, “yes, very much.” She looked out the ************************************************************ **** Already the craggy landscape of the coast began to overtake the road. Her heart fluttering in her chest, she knew that her story would not hold water and she would be caught in her duplicity the moment they rolled upon the estate lands.
~ * ~
Michael slept most of the day. The temperature of his cell had dropped. At least he was protected from the wind, but that was a small concession. Huddled against the cold, with no blanket, nor hearth to keep him warm, he had taken his refuge in slumber when he could. The mixture of sleep and cold had numbed him considerably, so it wasn’t until the noise outside his cell became so loud that it roused him.
The crashing sound was that of someone struggling, and the timber of voices shouting.
“You bastards.” came a familiar voice. “What have you done with her?”
No answer came, save the opening of the door. In the moments that followed, a body was thrust into the small enclosure. Falling to the floor instantly, it was clear his new companion had been treated badly. Clothes torn and reeking of days without proper hygiene, the

other man stumbled backwards to land in front of Michael, limbs askew. He looked much like a discarded rag doll.
“Tom?” The earl asked cautiously.
The other man spun around, searching the darkness for his new cellmate. Michael was shocked by the bruised appearance of the youth. In truth, the other man’s face was a mixture of old wounds and new. Purple skin covering old scars so that it was clear he’d been treated badly for some time.
“My lord? Is that really you?”
“I’m afraid so, Tom. I am so sorry that you’ve been dragged into all this.”
Tom shook his head stubbornly. “Oh no, my Lord. It is I who am sorry that things have turned out so badly.”
“At least you’re alive. After London, I feared the worst.”
Tom looked away for a moment. “To be honest, sir, I believe the worst has yet to visit upon us.”
A chill colder than the ocean wind in winter cut through Michael. Somehow he knew the news was not to be good. His nightmare had become real once again.
“Tom, where is my wife? Is she here as well?”
“Not yet, but soon, I fear.”
Michael sank back, his eyes closed. “Tell me, Tom. Please, tell me all.”
~ * ~
Mouse was both relieved and fearful as the sight of Michael’s estate rose in the distance. She knew that she’d no longer be able to hide the truth from her benefactor. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, and plunged into the matter. To her credit, Mouse had never been good at lying and when she’d decided to be honest with the General, it was as if a great weight had been lifted from her chest.
Mouse quickly assessed her traveling partner. Though it was but early evening, the older man slumbered peacefully beside her. She was hesitant, not wanting to wake him, but knowing that in the next few moments it was inevitable. When the carriage stopped, he would surely arouse.

“General,” she began, speaking softly at first. “My pardon, sir, but we are nearly there.”
Wexley’s eyes fluttered open and he loosed a yawn. “Really, my dear? Please forgive my poor manners. At my age, the movement of the carriage has the effect of rocking in a cradle. I have always slept better during travel.”
“I do regret having to wake you, sir.”
“Oh, think nothing of it. Plenty of time for sleep later, if you get my meaning,” he winked at her.
Mouse nodded. “General, I am most ashamed of my actions of late and I must make some things clear to you before we reach the estates. I am afraid I have not been honest with you.”
“You’ve no need to feel such discomfort. In truth, I suspected that there might be more to your story that you were willing to disclose.”
“You have?” Mouse’s heart was beating in double time now.
“Of course! A young woman, traveling virtually alone, traversing the most dangerous roads in the country.”
“Oh. And yet, you’ve said nothing to me?”
“Of course, not. There was no need.”
Mouse nodded. “Then, I suppose I must tell you the truth of my situation—”
The older man shook his head. “I already know all that is important about you, Lady Winningham.”

Sixteen

“Lady Winningham.”
Mouse nearly collapsed at the sound of her name. Her ‘married’ name. Suddenly the events of the past few days fell upon her, crashing against her like a wave against the surf and filling her with fear and anger.
“How long have you known?”
“Since the beginning,” he smiled then, his face turning a deeper shade of red, his eyes sparkling like glittering candles at midnight. “It was I who summoned you with that letter.”
Mouse sank back against the seat. “I see.”
“No, you don’t but it is awfully nice of you to say so.” His smile grew impossibly large. “I have need of your company and I knew that if I requested your presence, you would surely suspect wrong-doings.”
“Then it was you who poisoned Tom?”
“It was nothing but a mild concoction, no permanent damage to the boy. I wouldn’t have needed to do so if he hadn’t recognized my driver. Elliot Stone has been serving me for years.”
“What have you done with Tom?” Mouse asked, fearing the worst for her friend.
“Safely tucked away. You see, things aren’t really all that bad.”

The carriage had turned onto the drive. Mouse’s mind whirred with the possibilities. Feeling like a trapped animal, she searched the landscape for any hope of escape.
“What do you want?” She asked baldly. Her hands had gone to twisting the fabric of her skirt. She imagined them about the General’s neck, or even better, Ambray’s.
The General’s expression hardened. “From you, nothing. In fact, I believe I have done you quite the courtesy by accompanying you on your journey.”
“It was you who wrote me? You are the lowest of low, sir!”
“Be honest, Lady Winningham, you would have made the trip eventually, regardless of my intervention.”
Mouse couldn’t deny that. “Then what is the purpose of your contrivance? What did you hope to gain by abducting me?”
He laughed and Mouse heard the sinful pleasure he took from her discomfort. He thoroughly enjoyed her predicament and the intrigue of his actions.
“I will not argue the point of your being forced into this. In fact, until this very moment, you have continued under your own free will, Miss. I’ll not hold the blame of your circumstance. If you have not guessed already, it is your husband I am more concerned with.”
Mouse’s fears were realized. “Just what is it you want from him? He’s ill and I believe his cousin has been working to worsen his condition, for what reason I cannot imagine.”
“You are astute as well as comely,” the General noted. “Your husband has been quite fortunate in his choice of you for a wife, Lady Winningham. But not to worry, as much as Ambray Kelton despises your husband, he fears me even more. I assure you, since your husband’s initial agreement to return to Rosecliff, he has not suffered much. He’s been ********************************tered and fed. There was a small altercation between Lord Winningham and one of his orderlies that resulted in minor injuries. But that will not have reoccurred, I assure you.”

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t believe you until I’ve spoken with my husband.”
“Of course, I expected no less. He is well. When he sees that you have chosen to accompany me here, I am sure it will change his mind on matters on which we tend to disagree.”
“You mean to force him to your will by threatening me?”
“I am certain it will not come to that. Your husband will quickly see how much safer the both of you will be if he cooperates. Since my retirement from the military, I have lost certain avenues of action to continue my business. Michael’s father was most instrumental to me, as Michael will become now that you’ve come to join him. You see, things are bound to fall into place.”
Mouse didn’t have the patience to continue this line of discussion. Her anxieties were growing by the moment.
“I want to see my husband.”
“Of course. I’ve no intention of keeping the two of you apart.”
The carriage had stopped full and the driver opened the door before her. Steeling herself against what the future held, she took his hand and allowed the man to help her from the cab. She couldn’t fight down the feeling that she’d grabbed onto a snake and that it was merely a matter of time before it would sink fangs into her.
~ * ~
Tom stood on tiptoes, straining to see through the small window of the cellar. Squinting against the darkness, he turned his head from side to side.
“Nothing yet, my Lord. The carriage is not moving. Whoever has arrived, they’re not anxious to get to the manse.”
“Just keep watching, Tom. I must know who Ambray has lured here. I pray that Mouse returned to London, but knowing my wife, that was not her choice.”
Michael sank back against the bare wall. For hours he’d stood watching the drive, until his weakened state had forced him to the

ground. Though Tom was not in much better shape, he was younger and carried more stamina.
“There she is, my Lord!” Tom stated suddenly.
Ignoring his condition, Michael was straining to catch a glimpse of his bride.
“Can you see her, Tom?” Before the other man could answer, the earl saw the soft bustle of skirts and knew that his wife had arrived safely at last.
Letting go of a breath he’d not known he’d held, Michael sighed. “She’s all right.” He watched as she disappeared around the front of the walk and entered into the house’s main entrance.
“Aye, my lord. She’s inside. Surely, they won’t injure her.”
“No, they’d best not.” Michael spoke resolutely. A new anger filled him. Anger not at his cousin and the General, but at himself, for languishing all these months past, for not fighting hard enough, for not protecting Mouse as he should have. No more, he told his heart. No more would he bend to their will. No more would he allow fate and his enemies to have control over him. He’d save Mouse, even if it cost him his title and his life. Seeing his wife in their grasp only caused his resolve to strengthen. In those spare moments he began to form a plan.
“Someone’s coming,” Tom noted.
When the door opened, O’Malley stepped in. “The general’s here.”
“So I saw. Is my wife unharmed?”
O’Malley nodded. “Well enough, though if it were up to me, she’d still be in London.” The other man shook his head. “I’ll do what I can for her. You must tread carefully.”
Michael didn’t speak as he walked out of the room and into the night. Once outside, he breathed the night air as though it were a tonic.
“Let’s get this over with.”
~ * ~

It was in the midst of these thoughts that the door opened and a
servant swept Michael inside. She didn’t know the new man, but her
thoughts were more for the sight of her husband. She was both
shocked and relieved at seeing him.
Mouse fidgeted. She’d been ensconced in the parlor. It was the very same room in which she and Michael had first talked about their marriage. How foolish she’d been. How terribly childish she’d been to think that her few problems were so momentous when her husband had suffered so greatly in comparison. She knew the truth now. Well, not all of the details, but enough to know that Michael had been used from the beginning. First by Ambray and now by this General.
“Oh, Michael.” She ran to him, falling into him. He was thinner, she realized. Nearly as he’d been the first time she’d seen him. But there was a strength to him that had outlived the course of his imprisonment. The force of his hold on her could not be denied.
“Mouse,” he intoned, saying her name in a singsong voice. “My beautiful Mouse.”
For a moment she could scarcely breathe, let alone speak. she drew a ragged breath, tears springing to her eyes.
“I am so sorry, Michael! I’ve been such a fool!”
“No, my love. I should have prevented them from this. I should have done what they expected from the first. Anything to keep you safe.”
Mouse could hear the pain in the rub of his voice. “It’s going to be all right, Michael. You’ll see. We’ll find a way out of this.”
“Of course, we will.”
Mouse felt his embrace falter slightly. Concerned for his well-being, she pulled away and motioned him to the settee.
“Please, sit. You’re exhausted.”
“I’m afraid your visit must be interrupted.” Ambray stated.

Mouse turned to see the General and Michael’s cousin entering the room. Suddenly her heart turned ice as she faced the two men responsible for her husband’s condition.
Wexley moved forward. “Please forgive us, my dear. But your husband has not granted us his full attention for a time and we have business to dispense with. It has been a long journey Surely, you need to ******************************************************** after so many miles.” He looked to Michael. “Michael, you and I have much to do. I can see now that you are more amenable to our previous endeavors.”
“How dare you!” Mouse barely breathed. Michael’s arms tightened around her.
“It’s all right, my sweet,” he told her in a low voice. “I’ll go with them. It won’t be long. Then we’ll be together, won’t we, General?” Michael gazed into her eyes, reassuring her with a slight nod of his head.
“Of course.” Wexley smiled. “Ambray will see to your every comfort, Lady Winningham, won’t you, my boy?”
Ambray nodded, almost too eagerly. “Of course, General. I look so forward to keeping company with dear Miranda once again.”
His enthusiasm was quelled when Wexley glanced in his direction.
“Go on, Mouse,” Michael urged. “I’ll be fine.”
“Oh, Michael,” she began but her voice faltered before she could speak further.
“Listen, Mouse. I need you to be strong for me now. Do as they say and I will get you out of this safely. You have my word on that.”
Mouse studied his expression. Reflected in the muddy turquoise depths she found a strength and resolve that she’d not seen previously.
“I love you, Michael,” she managed.
“I love you as well. Go with Am, and when I see you next, all will be right. I promise.”
~ * ~
Michael was taken to the small room off of the kitchen that was used by the staff as an informal dining room. The house was now

empty save for Ambray, the General and their men, O’Malley, Mauler and Stone. The usual house staff was gone. Among the list of demands he was forming, Michael would insist the return of the cook, the gardener, and at least one lady’s maid for Mouse. He would not have her live in squalor. If the trade they were entering into was successful, they could well afford that.
“Have a seat, my boy,” Wexley offered cheerily.
Michael hesitated momentarily. He didn’t want congeniality from this devil. He wanted to be done with this so he could return to Mouse.
“Enough of the pleasantries, General. State what you came for and let me get back to my wife.”
Wexley took the chair across from him. His brow knotted with an expression of mild irritation. He nodded to Stone, who now flanked the doorway with O’Malley. The men stepped forward and forced Michael into the chair. He did not struggle, but sat stiffly, barely able to contain his rising anger.
“You know well what I came for, Michael. I have been patient with you and your cousin. In the next few nights, a ship full of my own property will be hailing into these waters. I will know where your father hid his treasures and who his contacts were. I am through playing cock-a-ninny with the Keltons. You will do as I instruct you or suffer the consequences.”
Michael considered his opponent. The visage of a kindly, older gentleman had gone, and every battle he’d ever waged—on land or otherwise—came to play across his features. It was an indication of just how much Wexley would do to have his way. Michael was fascinated as well as horrified at the vision before him. He’d seen greed in his lifetime—in his father and the men who’d visited him after his mother’s death. He’d even seen the lust in Ambray’s gaze when he’d cast his intentions on Katerina. What sat before Michael now was beyond those two human qualities. It was the sharp, jagged

edge of evil, plain and simple. And the blade of it cut to Michael’s marrow.
“Very well, you shall have what you wish from me.” When he spoke, Michael was surprised by his own calm tones. “But first, I have conditions—”
“Enough!” came Ambray’s voice from the doorway. “You have no concerns here! You will do as you are told!”
Michael ignored his cousin’s fury. He didn’t care, having already decided what part his cousin would play in this macabre dance. For his own sake, and for Mouse’s, the earl had already made the choice of who would survive this ordeal and who would not.
With carefully measured calmness, Michael turned his attentions back to Wexley. “My first condition is that Ambray have no further part in this. I will deal with you and you alone.”
“This is ridiculous! I will not stand for his impertinence.” Ambray stepped forward, raising an arm to strike Michael. Despite his age, the General was faster. He bolted upright, stopping Ambray’s arm in mid-swing.
Michael watched as his cousin’s inflamed gaze met Wexley’s calm demeanor. For a single moment the two were locked in a combat of silent rage. Michael wasn’t sure which one would win. He well knew the force of his cousin’s personality. Suddenly, Ambray’s strength wilted beneath the older man’s scrutiny.
In a single word, the matter was decided. “Done.” Wexley’s gaze never left Michael’s cousin.
Ambray stepped back, as though he had been slapped. Looking quickly around the room, confusion crowded his expression. Realization of the situation must have dawned because it quickly was replaced by an intense calm though electricity hung in the air between them.
“Very well, he whispered. “I am always your obedient servant, General. I hope that there will come a time when you will see the error of your decision in this. I won’t oppose you.” He turned to

Michael, straightening his waistcoat. “As for you, Cousin, you and I will finish on another day.” With that, he turned and stiffly exited the room.
Michael closed his eyes briefly. He allowed a bit of hope to creep into his mind. Of course, he had yet to deal with the worst of the two demons, but evil divided was certainly better than evil multiplied.
~ * ~
Mouse paced the thick carpets for what must have been the thousandth time. She’d been returned to her old room from before and the memories it brought forth were painful. She quickly dismissed them for a new set of concerns. Michael’s life was in danger and she was unable to save him. The first hour of her interment, she labored to find a way out, but Ambray had been most clever in finding and sealing the door that led to the back hallways. Her window had been nailed shut as well, so there was no chance for escape. She simply had to sit and wait for someone to free her.
Hours passed when a tray of food and wine was brought, but she trusted neither, drinking instead from the clean ewer which had been supplied for her to wash up. She would need to eat eventually, but for the moment she meant to keep her wits about her and wait for word of her husband.
Suddenly the door burst open and a single visitor entered.
“Hello, Miranda,” Ambray stated quietly.
“Where’s Michael?”
“He’s with Wexley. They are renewing an old acquaintance.” He sauntered into the room, deftly pushing the door closed behind him.
Mouse stepped back warily. She’d never trusted Ambray before and certainly didn’t now. Though her suspicions at his intentions were climbing by the second, she knew that she could not let him see her fear. He would feed off of it like wolves attacking a hen house.
“Shouldn’t you be with them?” She asked, feeling her comment hit the mark.

A sharpened expression quickly lit upon his face like a lightning strike, but was just as quickly gone.
“There is no need. Besides, I’d much rather spend time with my favorite cousin. How have you been, Miranda? Or should I call you Mouse?”
Again he advanced and again Mouse retreated. Bile rose from her stomach at his use of her nickname, a name that had to that moment only been spoken by her beloved family and Michael.
“You will address me with my title or not at all!” She couldn’t keep the anger from her voice.
“Of course, if that is your wish, Lady Winningham,” he sneered, stepping closer still.
Mouse backed up against the armoire. She was quickly running out of territory as well as patience. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her weakness. No, she told herself she would fight him—fight him to her last breath if need be. She’d been a country Doctor’s daughter indeed, but her father had been wise enough teach her how to protect herself. She knew well where to strike a man to incapacitate him.
“As it happens, my lady, I have quite a fondness for the gentry. And for you especially. I have long been an admirer, even before your stepmother and I put forth our plan to have you wed my cousin. If fates were different, I daresay I might have taken you myself.”
He closed the distance and Mouse prepared for her attack. “You are mistaken, sir,” she said, her voice a low growl, “if you think to assault me. I am giving you fair warning to leave this room now.”
Ambray smiled at her statements. “It looks as though the little mouse has sharp teeth? Is that what you are telling me? Well, milady, as it happens, I prefer sharp teeth. In fact, if you didn’t attempt to defend yourself, I’d be disappointed. Yes, truly disappointed.”
In the next instant, Mouse pushed forward, quickly raising her knee to his groin, her hands grabbing for his face, nails poised to claw Ambray’s eyes from their sockets if need be.

Unfortunately Ambray had been a street fighter long before Mouse’s birth, and he knew well the tactics that women chose to defend themselves. With a hearty laugh he quickly sidestepped her advance and in the same motion slapped her smartly. The force of the blow knocked her sideways. Instantly he was upon her. Grabbing her by the hair, he thrust her onto the bed and descended upon her.
In full panic, Mouse gave a valiant struggle. She kicked and bit furiously, but the long night had taken its toll and she was quickly running out of steam. Still, she wouldn’t beg, or cry. The minutes passed until she became still beneath him, gasping for breath. She tried to draw in more air, but Ambray’s weight upon her was like a granite stone.
“That’s my girl!” He said gleefully above her. “Is that all the vinegar in you, Mouse? Surely you can fight a bit longer.” Cupping her face with one hand, his other pushed through the soft recesses of her now tattered dress. Mouse tried to push him away but he was quickly gaining ground. Instinctively, she knew what must come next.
“Get off me, you fiend.” Mouse screamed.
“I think not, my girl. I’ve much planned for you this night. You’ll not disappoint me. We’ll see how much your darling Michael cares for you when I’ve had my way, hmm? Perhaps I shall put a child there and it’ll be my heir to claim his wealth and title. Wouldn’t that be a stain to the family stockings?”
“You will do nothing.” Mouse said through clenched teeth. “You wouldn’t dare. Michael would kill you.”
He laughed again. “Aren’t you the foolish chit! I took his fair Katerina from him, you know. She actually preferred me. Imagine that. Believe me, Lady Mouse, you very much pale in comparison to her.” With that, Ambray leaned forward and invaded her mouth.
Mouse gagged at the scent of him, a mixture of stale wine and male sweat, all infused him. She struggled again beneath him, the last of her breath being stolen by him. When she was on the brink of sinking into oblivion Ambray was gone.

Not just him, but his entire body had been thrown away. The heat he had generated had instantly dissipated, leaving her shivering in the cold chill of its wake.
Looking up she saw who had rescued her and though she knew him not, her heart sang at whatever fate it was that had released her from Ambray’s hold, even for whatever short time that was to be.
“What do you think you’re doing, you Irish bastard?” Ambray shouted, swinging his arm around to strike the other man. The intended target only sidestepped the impending blow, deftly striking Ambray, much in the manner a man swats away an insect.
This only inflamed Ambray further. “You dare to strike me?” He came forward, but the Irishman’s arm shot out.
“I came at the General’s order. He’s struck a bargain with Winningham. He’s asking for you.” He spared a glance at Mouse’s crumpled form on the bed. She watched as he summarily dismissed her and turned his attention back to Ambray. “I don’t believe he would take it too well if he knew you were roughing up the girl. Especially at this most delicate point in the negotiations.”
Ambray drug a ragged sleeve across his mouth, wiping off the blood from the spot where Mouse had bitten him. “What is your concern in the negotiations? You work for me, remember?”
“Well, there’s the thing, Kelton. The general has made me an offer and it’s a right pretty one. I’d be a fool to turn him down. Timothy O’Malley is many things, but a fool he is not.” He motioned for the door.
Mouse held her breath when the stranger mentioned his name. It was the name of the man whom Arthur had sent to rescue her husband. Had he turned traitor by Ambry and Wexley’s promise of rewards? Or was this a guise to help her and Michael escape? Mouse wasn’t sure what to believe anymore.
Ambray stood quiet for a moment. “That’s the way of it then? We shall see who the fool is here, and who is not.”

Glancing back at Mouse, Ambray straightened his shirt, “Until another time, my dear.” He smiled then shoved past O’Malley. The other man didn’t spare her a nod and followed close behind.
Only after the lock had turned in the door and she’d heard their footsteps fade down the hall did Mouse give over to her emotions and sobbed uncontrollably until the last of her energies were spent and a heavy slumber came to claim her.

When Michael was taken back to his cell, the sun was rising outside the tiny ************************************************************ **** Exhausted, he leaned against the stone wall. A stirring noise beside him brought him abruptly out of his reverie.
“My lord, please forgive me, I didn’t hear you come in,” Tom said, quickly rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Nonsense, there is nothing to forgive. I’ve not been back long and you needed the rest.”
Tom hesitated beside him. “How are you, my Lord? I mean, they didn’t hurt you or anything?”
Michael smiled, “Only my pride, Tom. But, that’s of little import now, isn’t it?”
Tom nodded. “And what of Lady Winningham, did you see her?”
“Yes, briefly. And, if things go well, by tomorrow morning you and she should be back on your way to London.”
“What about you, sir? Will you be coming with us?”
Michael shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Tom. I must charge you with getting Mouse safely back to her family and seeing to it that she stays there. The next few months will be hard on her, but I think in time she’ll forgive me.”
“Forgive you, sir? What for?”
Michael turned away, the words could barely form in his mouth. He knew, with the events having been set in motion, there was no turning back. He only hoped that one day Mouse would come to

understand what had driven him to this. Only being certain of her safety was worth the sacrifices he’d make.
“For being a traitor, Tom.”
~ * ~
Ambray wore through the carpet in the small office. He’d stomped and fumed his way into the room, only to be put off by Wexley’s man. The cretin actually had enjoyed Ambray’s fit of pique and went off on his own, chuckling as he left.
Just before dawn, Wexley entered the room. Ambray grew quiet at the old man’s appearance.
“Good morning, Ambray. My, don’t you look all tossed today.” The general seated himself behind the small desk. “It is time for us to come to an understanding.”
Ambray straightened his shoulders, inwardly patting himself for having the forethought to change his clothing and clean up before this meeting. It wouldn’t have done for Wexley to see him in disarray.
“I haven’t slept, if that’s what you’re referring to. It’s hard to rest when there is a knife of betrayal wedged in your back, sir.”
Wexley looked up at him. “I haven’t betrayed you, Kelton. I’ve no reason to. I merely did what was necessary to keep Winningham happy. If he believes you are out of the picture, he’ll be more cooperative. In exchange for your good graces, you will be heavily rewarded. Believe me, I only want to keep his lordship around until I have established my own trade routes, then I will gladly let you dispense with him and his wife, if you so wish.”
Ambray took a deep breath. “I have designs on the fair lady. As for Michael, you know what my price is, what it has always been.”
The general regarded him a moment. “Why is it that you want Winningham dead, if you don’t mind my asking? He seems a fair enough sort. I must say the starch in his britches impressed me last night. I knew he was an exemplary soldier, but I’d not expected him to stand up to me.”
“My reasons for wanting my cousin dead are my own. I am owed a debt and I mean to collect it.”
“Fair enough. We must travel into the village. There are two men there who will connect with the coast and prepare a docking for my

ship. We only need to wait until the former Lord Winningham’s contact man arrives. We should have things in hand in the next few days.”
Ambray nodded. “Why wait so long? Couldn’t we have done this all months ago? Michael was in far better shape then, you know. I had him full of enough laudanum to make him betray his own mother.”
The General nodded. “And suspicions would have been high, you dolt! You’ve never seen the larger picture, have you? I needed time to gather my own forces, to pull together my network of spies to support my interests. I have finally achieved that. Michael is only a small part of my plans, you know. It was his father’s death that nearly had me boxed. I’ve worked diligently to clear the path to France. The next few days will see the fruition of my plans.”
“Very well, General. I am, as always, your servant. Is there anything else you require?”
“Not presently. Go get yourself some sleep. You look like hell.”
~ * ~
After sleeping most of the day, Mouse awakened to the late afternoon shadows. Lunch had been served while she’d rested. A new tray had been set on the bedside table, laden with a bottle of warm ale and a congealed bowl of ox-tail soup beside it.
Deciding against at even attempting the meal, Mouse instead began setting herself to rights. After a quick wash with the stale water in the ewer, a few brushes threw the tangles of her hair and donning a fresh dress and slippers, she finally sat down at the writing desk and reflected on her situation.
It was true that at the moment there was absolutely no hope of escaping the dreaded room or even of seeing Michael until Ambray and the general saw fit to let her. She knew she was being ransomed in order to force Michael to aid them in their treachery. The thought of them threatening her to insure his cooperation made her set her temper to boil. For the moment, there was simply nothing to be done about it.
In truth, Mouse had never spent a helpless day in her life. It was making her desperate for activity. At least the forced occupation left her plenty of time for planning. The way she saw things, she had two

main purposes—first, to fend off any further attempts by Ambray and second, to free Michael.
Spying the pewter pitcher on the dressing table, Mouse constructed a plan of attack. Quickly she placed it on the table beside the bed. Knowing her husband’s cousin’s weaknesses, she settled herself on the bed, spreading her skirts about and leaning back slightly.
The second concern, however, was less easily dealt with. Mouse knew that the safest course of action would be for her to escape to the nearest village. Once there she could beg the local gentry for help. Unfortunately, she feared what the general might do to her husband once he’d learned of her desperate flight. The memory of Michael’s poor condition the night before only hardened Mouse’s resolve to not leave her husband behind. No matter the outcome, they would escape together.
~ * ~
It was just before dusk when the door to Michael’s cell opened. O’Malley entered carrying two bottles of water and a plate of cold meats and cheese. The aroma filled the tiny room instantly, arousing both Michael and Tom.
“Good eve’ to you, Lord Winningham,” O’Malley stated, holding out the food for them. “Sorry, I’ve not been able to get away before now to bring you something to eat. With the house staff gone, the General’s been ordering me around like his own personal abigail. In all my years of employment, I have never wished to be a valet and I am fairly certain now that I never will.”
Michael watched the man closely. “How is my wife? Have you seen her?”
O’Malley’s expression darkened a moment. “She’s well enough. Took a bad scare from your cousin last evening. Fortunately, I was there to intervene before anything regrettable occurred.”
Instantly Michael was on his feet. “If anything happens to her—” he began.
O’Malley put up his hand, “My lord, I can assure you I have been watching over the lady. She’s not eaten, but I left her plenty of water. I suppose by tonight her appetite will come back.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Michael dropped his fisted hands to his sides. “You’ve never told me just why it is that you’ve chosen to help me. For all I know you could be working for my cousin.”
O’Malley shrugged. “True enough. I’m not ready to divulge my employer just yet. I have been hired to look into the goings on here. Since Lady Winningham’s arrival, it makes her my charge to protect. And protect her I shall, whether it’s against the General, Mister Kelton, or you.”
“Against me?” Michael could barely contain his anger. “She is my wife, sir!”
“Which, to my thinking, is all the more reason to be suspicious. You narrowly escaped a charge of treason, are said by some to have murdered your first wife, and now have been revealed to have connections with smugglers and conspirators. At the very least, your sanity is in question. Not a good recommendation of character thus far, my Lord.”
Michael swallowed the bile that was forming in the back of his throat. “I don’t have to answer any charges to you, sir. Whatever happens to me, I only want my wife safely back with her family. My life means nothing.”
O’Malley stood quietly for a moment. “Now, there’s where you’re wrong. It would seem that right now, you are indeed very important. First, to your lady, who is ready to sacrifice herself to save you. Second, to your cousin, who wants the particular pleasure of killing you all to himself. And, third, to Wexley who believes that you are the goose that has laid the golden egg. No matter how we examine things, my lord, it always comes back to you. For the moment I’ve added you to my list of charges, if only to make certain that you remain alive to answer to my superiors. That seems tantamount.”
“So, you bring me food and news of my wife,” Michael said with defeat.
“For now. That’s about the limit of what I can do for you, my lord. That and to tell you that the General has returned from the village. He has ordered me to get you ready for travel at first light. His ships will be coming on to shore within the next few days. He’s anxious to find

your father’s treasure before that. My advice to you is to give him whatever he wants. That way we shall have more time to get things arranged. When you and he are gone, I will free your wife and the young lad here and send them packing to London.”
Michael nodded. “As I’ve said before, I will cooperate. Just get my wife to safety. After that, they won’t care whether I’m alive or dead.”
“There is one more thing, my lord.” O’Malley grasped Michael’s arm. “If you are indeed a traitor, you must know that I will do everything I can to see that justice is served. I will bring you in. You will answer to the charges.”
Michael smiled thinly. “Sir, if I survive to that point, I will follow you dancing a jig.”
~ * ~
Mouse had dozed until few hours from sunset. She hadn’t meant to drift away, but the course of her nerves and the long hours of waiting for Ambray’s return had drained her energies.
Sitting up abruptly, when she heard the loud click of the key in the bedroom’s door lock, Mouse scooted herself to sit at the edge of the bed, the table and pitcher within arm’s length.
The door opened and Ambray stepped in. Behind him, Mr. Mauler pushed in a wheeled cart carrying a full service of dinner. Scents of steamed carrots, freshly roasted beef and onion soup filled the room. Mouse became instantly dizzy and famished all at the same time. Inwardly, she chided herself for not eating earlier.
“You look rested, Miranda,” Ambray motioned for his servant to leave. Closing the door and locking it once more, he quickly deposited the key in his shirt pocket.
“I was able to sleep a bit,” she told him, “and think.”
Ambray didn’t bother to quell his look of surprise. “Oh, really? And what was troubling your mind?”
“I love my husband, Ambray,” she started quietly, “but I’ve no experience with men. When you were here earlier, you frightened me terribly.” Mouse paused, looking away and quickly muttering a prayer under her breath that her lies would prevail.

“I apologize for my behavior earlier. I was in an angry mood, my dear. Your husband infuriated me with his betrayal. Worse yet, I was dismissed by General Wexley. When I came to your room, I was quite overcome by your charms. It is difficult being a man, Miranda. So many things are placed within our reach and yet we are told not to touch them.”
“I think I understand,” Mouse said quietly, casting her gaze downward. “It leads me to consider what it would be like if things were different. You said something to me earlier that has left me wondering.”
Mouse could feel Ambray’s smile grow as she waited.
“What is it that you wish to know?”
She lifted her eyes and looked at him squarely. “Why was it that Katerina chose you over Michael?”
Ambray started slightly. “Why indeed? I have always considered Michael to be the far better catch. No doubt his wealth and position are among his best attributes. It is a wise woman who would choose a man for that kind of security. In the long run, I imagine it often does leave a girl lingering in the night when she is left with a husband who is cold and brooding. I, who have nothing to my name, but far more time on my hands, have the ability to quell those long lonely nights, my dear. In a way, I have done a service to my cousin. By keeping his wife happy and loved, he was free to do what it is that he does best, stay in hiding.”
As he spoke, Ambray began advancing on her once again. Mouse suppressed a shudder as she watched the predatory expression overtake his face. Still, he wasn’t close enough for her to strike, so she leaned closer, appearing caught in his speech like an insect in a spider’s web.
“Was Katerina happy and loved?” She asked in a voice just barely above a whisper.
“Oh, very happy. And loved.” He said, his voice a gentle sigh. He stood barely a foot from her now. Reaching out his hand, he lightly caressed her face.
Mouse closed her eyes and tilting her head back, leaned into him. But, as her right hand reached to join his, her left was closing on the

pitcher handle. Slowly she stood up from the edge of the bed and began to press her body into his.
“I want to be loved, too…” She said though in the next instant she was swinging the pewter in a forceful arc, landing it succinctly against Ambray’s temple. The ********************************l made connection with a dull thud. In the next instant he lay sprawled out on the ground before her, knocked completely unconscious.
“… but not by you, you worthless scut!” Quickly Mouse dropped the pitcher and bent down to extract the room’s key his front shirt pocket. Stepping lightly over him she made her escape.
~ * ~
Michael stood gazing out the cellar’s only window into the night. Moonlight kept the grounds from being entirely dark, but the dim light was not enough to reveal what had been going on in the manse. From his vantage point across the yard, he could see the shapes of men running about the estate. He could make out the bent shape of Mauler and the thin tall form of Stone. Even the quicksilver form of O’Malley had darted across the landscape twice.
“What’s going on, sir?” Tom asked behind him.
“Something’s got everyone stirred up,” he commented. “They’re looking for something, or someone.”
“Her ladyship?”
“Perhaps.” Michael sighed. “For her own sake, I hope she is on her way back to town.”
“So do I, my lord.”
Suddenly the door burst open behind them and a disheveled Ambray pushed into the room. Clothing soiled with blood, he also sported a fresh bruise that covered his right eye, cheek and temple.
“Where is she, Michael?” He demanded.
“What’s happened, Ambray? You’re hurt.”
“Your wife struck me with a pewter pitcher, the chit! Where is she hiding?” Ambray held up a pistol, aiming it at Michael’s chest.
“I’ve no idea. I’ve been here all day. How could I possibly know of her whereabouts?”
“Liar. No matter. We shall find her. In the meantime, you and I must settle things.”

Michael looked at him darkly. “Now? Before I’ve helped the general? A bit premature, isn’t it?”
“Hardly, since you are going to give me your father’s secrets. I shall be Wexley’s champion and you shall be dead.”
“No!” Tom, stood suddenly, pushing himself between Ambray and Michael.
“Don’t do it, boy,” Ambray hissed. “You’ve interfered enough with my plans. Another word, and I’ll kill you where you stand. Now, get out of the way.”
Michael stepped between them. “No. There’s no need for that, Am. Let’s just keep this between the two of us. I’ll make you a bargain. I’ll tell you what you want. In fact, I’ll take you to the caves where my father’s goods were hidden. I doubt you’ll find anything there, but at least you’ll know for certain. You can still use it to store enough guns and ammunition to start another insurrection. In return, you must let Mouse and Tom free. Send them packing to London tonight. The secrets shall be yours alone.”
Ambray paused, the point of the gun drifting slightly downward.
“Mine alone?”
“Yes. For you to do with as you please.” Michael stepped slowly forward, locking his gaze with Ambray’s. “For all I know, there might be a king’s ransom down there, trapped between the surf and the sea. Think what you could do with such wealth.”
Ambray’s expression changed to one of suspicion. “If such a thing exists, why haven’t you said so before now?”
Michael breathed slowly. “Why should I? I have everything—a title, a home, and you to care for me. Gold has never meant anything to me. When my father was alive, I only wanted his affection. After his death, I wanted the same from my wife. With all my wealth and title, I could have neither.”
“You’re a fool, Michael,” Ambray chuckled. “You always have been. Your father provided everything for you. Good schooling, an expensive commission in the Army, and a beautiful wife were gifts he bestowed on you. You never once acknowledged those things. You disgust me, cousin.”

“There are more things than material wealth, Am. An occasional conversation would have been enough. A few kind words, even an afternoon spent together as father and son.”
“Since it’s far too late for any of that, let’s dispense with this business now.” Ambray took hold of Michael’s sleeve, leaning closer. “Betraying your father should please you. Think of it as a chance for you to have your revenge on him. He never meant for anyone to find his treasure, you know. Never wanted anyone else to profit from his labors. Not even his son.”
“At least in that, you are correct, Ambray.” Michael took a deep breath. “He never divulged his secrets to anyone, not even me. I followed him. I was about thirteen. I was both frightened by my father and amazed by him. He took a handful of men down to the surf and I watched while wagons filled with armaments were quietly stowed away. There were Frenchmen who’d come to do business with him. I was too young to understand war and smuggling then. All those years he held onto the weapons. I didn’t realize just why it was he’d so vehemently argued against my joining the war effort, then the next day sign my commission papers. Turns out, having a son fighting for England made him less suspicious. I actually thought he might have been proud of his son’s accomplishments. I was wrong.”
“You could have turned him in, you know. Been the hero,” Ambray said quietly.
“I had intended to. I went to the caves shortly before I left for the Continent. The weapons were gone, the caves empty. I had thought my father might have had a change of heart. That he’d become a patriot. When I returned after the war, he was dead. I supposed the cache was still empty. I didn’t want any trouble so I just kept it as another family secret. It seems my father’s sins are mine now as well.”
“Mine and yours. Aren’t you the comical figure in all of this?” Ambray laughed. “Never wanting to take the legacy your father left you, but not quite wanting to let go of it either?”
“There’s nothing to let go of, Ambray. Wexley knows that. He wants to use only my name. Or, rather my father’s name. He seems to

think that I can persuade my father’s compatriots to trust him, to start the business once again. That is the only gift my father has given me.”
“You’re wrong, Michael. Your father did leave you something. Not long after we went to war he started up the business again. A full shipload of weapons and ammunitions bound for the English soldiers in Spain was pirated. The vessel was sunk about fifty miles from these very shores. The shipment has never been located. Just think of the wealth those guns might bring!”
“You think that my father took it? Is that what this is really about, Ambray? All about money?”
His cousin smiled. “It is ever about money, Michael.”
“No one has bothered to search for it?”
“We have been up and down this coast for nearly two years with no success. Your father outmaneuvered us all. Until now. Take me to the caves, Michael. Let’s be done with this.”
Michael studied his cousin carefully. “In the end, I wanted nothing from him. I still don’t. It’s yours, Ambray. Every last bit of it. I only want to be left in peace.”
Ambray motioned to the door. “Then, let’s go. You and I alone. Once you give me what I want, I’ll set you free. You can catch up with your bride, though little good it will do you. Once it’s learned of your escape, the authorities will be hot on your heels. Perhaps the two of you can manage in hiding.”
Michael only nodded, moving past his cousin to the door. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Ambray.”
~ * ~
Mouse had gone over the grounds twice. It had become increasingly harder to stay hidden, especially in light of the men searching so vigilantly. Managing to escape their notice, she huddled between the tool shed and the row of primroses that grew wildly along one border of the property. Night was beginning to fall and with darkening skies, she sat trying to fight off the oncoming chill and cursing her own ineptitude at not grabbing a proper wrap on her flight out of the manse.
Just beyond her hiding place, she saw two men heading towards the north end of the property. Just barely visible were the general and

Mr. O’Malley. She could make out the older man’s voice as it carried past her on the night wind. He was shouting, but the gist of the words was carried away from her. By the way he was tossing his hands, she could easily tell that he was extremely unhinged about something.
Carefully Mouse pulled herself out of the brush. Hunched down against the building, she made an attempt to follow. After a pace, she watched them enter one of the small cellars which sat at the northern perimeter of the property. Used to store vegetables and various other household goods, the cellar sat back against a small hill that rose up to the cliff behind it and abruptly jutted down to the coast. There was one tiny window that faced the manse with the rest covered by ground. Creeping up to the window, Mouse noted that it was only slightly cracked open, and nailed so that it wouldn’t be opened any further. Obviously meant to keep small animals from entering into the foodstuffs.
“Where is the Earl, boy?” The General’s voice cut through the night.
“I don’t know, sir. They didn’t tell me where they were going. I only know what I told you already, the Earl is gone and it was Mr. Kelton who took him!”
Mouse felt both relief and pain at hearing Tom’s voice. She had hoped that somehow he’d managed an escape on his own and had made it safely back to London. At least he was still alive, and that in itself was enough to be thankful for.
“If you’ve lied to me, it’ll be your arse!” Wexley’s threat rang out.
Mouse could hear the sounds of a scuffle below her and could barely make out the shapes of the three men entangled.
“Here now, sir,” O’Malley yelled out, “it’ll do no good to harm the boy now. We might have need of him later. Since Mr. Kelton has taken the Earl, then surely he means to bring him back. If you were to ask me, that man is fair scared of you.”
Wexely didn’t speak for a moment. “If he’s trying to cut me, it’ll be all the worse for him. Ambray Kelton doesn’t realize just how powerful I am!”

“I’m sure of it, sir. I’ll just take a skiff into town and see what he’s up to. If he’s gone on ahead to meet your contacts, then I’ll put a blade in him myself.”
Wexley seemed to relax a bit. “You’re a good man, O’Malley. You help me now and I’ll see that you’re well rewarded for it.”
At that, Mouse heard the door creak. Quickly pulling her skirts up, she darted around behind the hill and crouched in the narrow passage between cliff face and the cellar mound.
As she waited, she heard the resounding turn of the lock on the cellar door. Pausing a few minutes more, she was certain the general and his lackey had left the area. Edging out quietly, she bent once again to the small ************************************************************ ****
“Tom? Are you all right?” She called softly. The room was now completely dark and she heard a shuffling from within it.
“Aye, ma’am, I’m about as right as a man can be that has been bruised and knocked about the last few days.”
“I am so sorry to have brought you to this, Tom! If not for me, you’d be safe at home.”
“Don’t you fret, Lady Winningham. I’m as tough as a wildebeest. You’ll see.”
Mouse took a deep breath. “Listen, Tom, I won’t be able to get you free just yet. The general has you locked in quite well.”
“Don’t worry about me, Ma’am. I’m snug in here. You just get yourself to safety. There’s a widow’s property not far from here to the west. If you’re careful and don’t go near the cliff edge it should be an easy journey. I know she’ll keep you safe. Her name’s Donnelly.”
“Once I’ve located Michael I’ll go straight there.”
“Oh, my lady, you mustn’t try to find him! Mr. Kelton took him an hour ago. If he finds you, it’ll be far worse for the earl.”
“Nonsense. It’s about time Ambray Kelton was taken to task. He’s ruined Michael’s life long enough.” A rattling sound cut through the sounds of night. Mouse paused, listening. “I’ve no time to argue with you, Tom. Just take care. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can.”
Before her young friend could argue, Mouse quickly backed away from the cellar and began the long walk back towards the stable. She knew that Ambray must have taken at least one mount, possibly two.

And, if he forced Michael into anything, it would be far worse for them both.
Mouse had nearly reached the back door to the barn, when a sudden shadow fell upon her. To the left, the shape of a man came at her through the dark. With barely enough time to react, she turned and set off in the opposite direction but before she could travel ten feet, the tall figure was tackling her to the ground. Fiercely clamping his hand on her mouth, the stranger quickly had her subdued.
“Don’t move, Miss.” The harsh man’s voice whispered. “If we’re found out, I can assure you, it’ll be much worse for you than me!” With quick, deft movements, Mouse’s attacker rolled over, pulling her atop him. In the next second she was looking into the face of Timothy O’Malley, his wide smile and dark appearance smiling benevolently up at her.

Michael rode silently behind Ambray. It should have been easy enough to make the two-hour ride along the coast and back, but with the wind and the cooling temperatures, he could barely keep his mount. Of course, his days with few rations and hours spent without sleep only added to his exhaustion. Relentless fear for Mouse’s safety kept him upright, weathering the course, uneven road that led back to the manse
Michael had taken Ambray to the small space of surf that was hidden during high tide. With swift movements, the two of them pushed aside the hedge covered wooden door that led down to the crypt-like enclosure. Unless one knew where to look for, it was not visible from the beach.
“Amazing,” Ambray carried the oil lamp down the stairs.
“I think that this was a hiding place for Viking marauders. I know it’s been here far longer than any of us,” Michael told him.
When they entered the cave, Ambray pushed in ahead of him. Arm held high, he illuminated the cavernous room.
“My God,” Michael exclaimed. The room was full with neatly piled wooden crates. They were stacked floor to ceiling with barely enough room for a man to move between them.

“God has nothing to do with this, cousin,” Ambray said. Searching the room, he found a long, iron rod. “Take this and open one of the crates,” he ordered.
Doing as he was bid, Michael managed to pull off the top of one of the cases. Inside was what he dreaded the most. The scent of powder and gun oil wafted up to fill his senses. For a moment, he could smell again the reek of battle, the smoke drifting in the air. Shaken back to the present, he looked into Ambray’s face and saw a similar expression.
“Ambray, we can’t sell these to the enemy. Think of the men that will die if another war ensues.”
“I am thinking, Michael. I am always thinking.”
Michael stepped forward, grasping Ambray’s arm. “At least remember the men who died in battle beside us—Holloway, Billings, Everly—surely you haven’t forgotten what it was like to pry their bodies from the frozen ground.”
“I haven’t forgotten, Michael. But things are different now.” His expression suddenly changed. “It’s time for us to get back to the manse.”
Michael looked down to see his cousin’s pistol raised once again, the barrel pointed only inches from his abdomen. Without another word, the two of them left the cache behind and began the ride back to the manse.
Before long they approached the small lane that led to Rosecliff proper. A half-mile more to go and they would be turning toward the main estate. But, to his surprise, his cousin leaned sidewise, and grabbed at the reigns.
“What are you doing?” Michael asked, nearly falling from his mount at the sharp turn.
“We’ve got a small chore to attend to before I put you up for the night,” Ambray answered, tight lipped.
Near to exhaustion, Michael only shrugged, following his cousin’s lead.

For a few moments, Ambray remained quiet. When the road had disappeared from view, he paused, turning his mount towards Michael.
“We’ve been together a long time, Michael,” he spoke quietly, his voice low and cold against the increasing background of the surf.
“Indeed, we have. I know it hasn’t been pleasant for you.”
“I’ve devoted my life to you and your father, cousin. I nursed and coddled him before you. My whole existence has been in service to the great and mighty Keltons. No longer.” He kicked his horse into a trot, and Michael’s mount had little choice but to follow.
Michael tightened the grip on the reins, an uneasy feeling edging up his spine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Am. You were never pressed into attendance to my father and me. Many times I told you to leave us, to find your own way. If you stayed, it was by your own choice.”
Ambray abruptly turned his horse so that he faced Michael. “My choice? Are you foolish enough to actually believe that! Your father owned me the same as he owned his prized stallions! He carried my life in his fists the same way he did yours. Only you were too blind or too stupid to realize it. He bought you that army commission. He pushed me to follow you, to care for his only son, his heir.”
“You didn’t have to follow, Ambray. You could have struck out on your own. You’ve always been more courageous, stronger than I. Why didn’t you? What made you stay with us if you hated it so much?”
Ambray set his jaw and stared harshly into the horizon. “Let’s get to the cliffs, cousin, and I’ll gladly enlighten you.” Ambray turned his horse back to the road. With a jerking motion, Michael followed.
~ * ~
“Get off me.” Mouse gave a strangled shout to her captor. Though he was only slightly taller than she, Timothy O’Malley was a force to be reckoned with. The man was practically all arms and legs, or so it seemed to Mouse, as she struggled to gain her precious freedom.

“Here now, Miss. Stop this tussling and I’ll let you up.” True to his words, the lanky fellow eased his hold, and though somewhat disheveled, Mouse managed to free herself from his grasp. Instantly she made to escape, but a firm hand on her shoulder promptly pulled her back to a sitting position.
“Glory, Miss, you are relentless,” he laughed.
“Unhand me this moment, sir, or I shall take action!”
“Aye, Lady Winningham, I would be disappointed if you didn’t. You’ve no need to be upset with me. I am in the employ of your brother-in-law, the Duke. He would be sorely upset if I were to allow anything bad to happen to you.”
“You have a fine way of showing it. Pushing me about like a rag doll.”
“I apologize,” he began, standing up and brushing the grass and dirt from his trousers, “but it was necessary to get your full attention before we were found out.”
Mouse huffed indignantly, straightening her skirts, and trying to return what little dignity the circumstance allowed.
“Your apology will be accepted as soon as you help me find my husband. His cousin has taken him somewhere. I fear the worst.”
“And you are correct in doing so, Ma’am. Unfortunately, my first concern is not your husband.”
“Not my husband? What are you talking about? Rescuing Michael is why we’re here.”
“The duke specifically requested my assistance in finding the truth about the earl, yes. Thus far, I have found no proof that he was forced to leave with his cousin. In fact, circumstances point towards his being in league with Kelton. While I’ve not yet acquired all the facts, I only know for certain that matters would be much better handled with you safely back in London. That is why I plan to take you to a friend of mine just outside Durney. From there she will see to it that you get transport back to the city.”

Mouse stepped back. “I will not be tossed off just like that, I refuse. I will find my husband and get him to safety. You may help me or not, it makes no difference.”
O’Malley’s expression darkened. “Is that truly what you think, Miss?”
“I do! Furthermore, when I contact Arthur, he will surely see the reason of this and have you discharged immediately.”
The man only shrugged. “Perhaps I should enlighten you, Lady Winningham. The Duke sent me a special missive that arrived just a day ago. If you’ll permit me?”
Suspicious of O’Malley’s intent, Mouse nodded. He motioned for her to follow and in minutes they were standing inside a small room just at the back of the stables. He quickly lit a sconce, and reaching into his shirt pocket, he withdrew a carefully folded piece of paper. Without saying a word, he handed it to her.
Holding her breath, Mouse took the parchment
“This can’t be.” She managed through the rising grief in her throat.
“I’m afraid it is, Miss. Your husband is clearly a traitor, as was his father before him. I truly don’t believe it to be entirely his doing, my lady. But the duke presents a solid case. Your husband was involved in quite a scandal in Spain. Trade routes and battle plans, in which he was one of the few men with the responsibility to keep secret, fell into the hands of the enemy. Lives were lost. Make no mistake, your husband is at least partially responsible.”
“I cannot believe that Michael would do such a thing.”
“He may have had no choice. Once a man is tortured, there’s no telling what he might do. Survival is a basic instinct in us all. Rumor has it that even now there are those who are supremely interested in reviving Napoleon’s venue. Your husband is at the center of it all.”
“What can we do?”

“We can do nothing but let things work out as they may. You can return home to your family and let me do what I was hired to do, which is find the truth.”
Mouse nodded, defeated.
“As long as you remain, you leave him no choice. He cannot fight them if he is in fear for your life. Remove yourself from Rosecliff, and there might be a chance to save your husband. Stay, and you are forcing him to cooperate with these men.”
“I’ll go,” she said, though it nearly broke her heart to say it.
Within the hour Mouse was seated in a carriage, ready to leave her husband to the devious ministrations of the murderous Ambray Kelton and the secret intrigues of General Wexley. Her throat burned, her stomach ached, and her heart beat fiercely within her breast. She had accepted that there was nothing to be done for her husband. Despite O’Malley’s assurances that he would do all he could, Mouse feared that she had left her husband for the last time.
It was near dusk as Mouse’s carriage pulled out of Rosecliff’s drive. Gazing out into the deepening shadows, she watched the landscape roll past her. Her thoughts were still on Michael and what might be done to strengthen his case.
“Be patient,” O’Malley had assured her. “You’re brother-in-law has a far reach. If anyone can aid your husband, he would be the man.”
“You’ve a lot of faith in Arthur. I wish I could be as certain.”
Despite his assurances, she felt there was little hope. As she mulled over his words, a muffled rumbling drew her attention. She could see two men on horseback, riding furiously in the distance.
Her own road bumping along, her driver had been oblivious to the silent companions that rode nearly two hundred yards beside them until the other path had veered off towards the sea. For a brief moment the two sets of travelers had nearly met, and Mouse saw something that gave her hope. To her surprise, she recognized the men who’d raced past her. It was Ambray and Michael, riding

furiously on the path winding deeper into the wilderness and towards the sea. Michael was leaning precariously on his mount, being lead by his cousin, God above only knew where.
Mouse suddenly sensed imminent danger and knew once and for all she could not abandon her husband to his death. Whatever the courts decided, whatever her family thought, it mattered not. She was going to rescue her husband once and for all and everyone else be damned!
In answer to her prayer, the cabin of the vehicle suddenly hit a large pit in the road, precariously tipping sidewise, then jerking back upright. In response to the rough treatment, the carriage door popped open, swinging perilously on its hinges. Without thinking of the consequences or the possibility of injury, Mouse quickly pulled her skirts about her and jumped from the carriage.
Mouse knew what a picture she must have been. A bumbling figure in the moonlight, still wearing her paisley afternoon dress, her hat pinned precariously to her head and her lady’s kid shoes all askew. She didn’t have long to worry over appearances. Landing with an undignified thump on the road, she felt the instant shock as her bottom met roughly with the ground. Fortunately, she’d landed in her most well padded area. After making a quick check of herself, she confirmed the fact that she’d sported no broken limbs, ribs, or anything other of her anatomy, save her pride. Since there was no witness to the latter, she dismissed it immediately. As she untangled her dress from the surrounding weeds and grasses, she watched the carriage ramble off into the darkness, door flapping as if waving good-bye to her, until the vehicle disappeared into the distance.
Certain that the driver was unaware that he’d lost his only passenger, she managed to stand and begin the long walk to the road which Ambray and Michael had taken. Of course, without any weapon, horse, or other possessions to aid her in freeing her husband, she’d no idea just how she was to help him. In Mouse’s experience, time and opportunity had always taken care of her in the past and she expected no less of it now.
~ * ~
When Ambray made the final turn of the road, Michael could see the rise of the cliffs just beyond the trees. Fear snaked through him. Scanning the landscape, he searched for a chance at escape. Even if he managed to get free, what awaited him beyond that? Most certainly arrest and execution. Still, it would be far better than being locked in a sick room, wrapped in a madman’s waistcoat. Whatever the outcome, Michael knew one thing. He must find Mouse. To see her and hold her one last time before surrendering to his fate was the best he could hope. After that, he didn’t care what happened.
The noise of the surf roared in Michael’s ears, but the sound of his own thoughts drowned out all other awareness. The truth was, at that moment, he had no care for King and country. What was it to him if Napoleon was foolish enough to return for another fight? Hadn’t Michael suffered enough in Spain for a nation that had soon after branded him a madman and would now judge him traitor?
Closing his eyes, Michael could still felt the gritty Spanish soil on his skin, taste the blood and grime, and smell the reeking scent of death. The memories of the men bleeding and dying never completely left him.
In the midst of those thoughts Michael began to recall the night when he’d fled the enemy. With sudden clarity he remembered giving the order to his men to fall back, only to watch them be summarily slaughtered by a hidden enemy at their rear. Despite the dire circumstances, the Englishmen didn’t fall easily. The company fought bravely, but the numbers were too many. In a matter of minutes the soldiers fell.
Once again, Michael stood alone on the battlefield, facing the enemy. Fighting with an empty weapon, despite a fiercely bleeding wound to his shoulder, the earl had been certain his death was mere moments away. Still he clutched the empty bayonet, its blade

bloodied from the two soldiers he’d been fighting. It was then that his body betrayed him. Overcome by a sudden seizure he was caught in the thrum of jerking motions. Helpless he watched as the confused enemy stood over him, staring down in confusion.
Suddenly, back in the present, Michael remembered something that his then injured mind did not reveal. It hadn’t been a fit of madness that had taken him down after all.
Michael’s battered brain reached across the many months and he knew just what had happened that night in Spain. He’d not fallen to his childhood malady. Before the convulsion claimed him, another event occurred. Michael suddenly remembered being struck from behind. He could feel the blow as it crashed against the back of his head. The ground had rushed up to greet him, but he didn’t give in to the darkness too readily. He’d seen the face of his attacker even then, but the wound’s severity had not allowed him that knowledge until he was being taken to his death along a moonlit road.
Michael tensed as he returned to himself. They had reached the cliff edge. Suddenly, Ambray dismounted and stood looking up at him. Michael watched face of his cousin transform into something different. No longer the sharp, good looks of his only living relative, but Satan transformed. It was a visage he knew all too well from another place, another time. It hadn’t been his illness that had struck him down that night. It had been Ambray.
Michael took in a slow breath. He suddenly saw the face of his cousin all those months before, surrounded by the enemy. But they hadn’t spoken French or Spanish. These men conversed in the King’s own tongue. They were speaking with Ambry about Michael. What were they to do with him? Should they kill him now? One of the soldiers asked, kneeling down, to observe the final shaking of Michael’s seizure. No, Ambray had told them. Michael still possessed much needed information.
“Get down, Michael,” Ambray’s voice cut into Michael’s ghostly recollections.

Michael nodded once and began to dismount. For him, the past and the present became instantly fused together. Even though his feet landed on English soil, he stood in the past as well.
Obeying, Michael observed his cousin with new eyes. In the person of Ambray stood what the earl had both dreaded and long forgotten. The man who’d haunted both his nightmares and daily consciousness was no longer a puzzle. With crystalline clarity, Michael realized just what his cousin was capable of doing. He needn’t have looked to the pair of pistols that Ambray held, each cocked and ready to fire.
“Are you going to kill me now, Am?” Surprised at the calmness of his own voice, Michael stepped forward, his hands in front of him.
“Over there, by the cliffs.” Ambray lifted the pistols higher.
Michael shrugged. “You don’t need to do this. You know that, don’t you? What will Wexley think if you kill his one tie to wealth and power?”
“He doesn’t need you anymore, Michael.” Ambray’s voice was calm and smooth and for a moment, Michael thought that his cousin of old had returned.
“Why not? I’ve given you the ************************************************************ **** of the caves, but that won’t be enough to keep him in the trade routes. He needs a name, a title. My title.” Michael said, as he walked to the ground that overlooked the sharp outcropping of rocks that met its own demise with the ocean below him. A few feet down, he saw the small ledge that he’d used as a child when his governess had taken him out on an afternoon exploration. It was there, as sure as the cradle and as safe a haven as any small boy or desperate man could hope existed. He prayed a silent thank you for a chance to save himself one last time. That was, if his cousin didn’t grow impatient and shoot him first.
“I’ll provide the general with everything he needs.”
Michael turned to face him. “Really? My impression was that Wexley didn’t want your help? What have you done to change his mind?”

Ambray smiled. “Oh, it’s nothing I’ve done. It’s something that was done long ago, by the former earl. He set the circumstances before you were even born, Michael.”
“Father? What has he to do with all this? Granted his hidden treasures and connections are still lucrative. But he was a selfish man. He would have made certain that no one, certainly neither you nor I, would ever prosper from his efforts.”
“Very true. In fact, it was his rapacious attitude towards his wealth that set the events in motion, now two years after his death. It matters little. For his entire life the Earl had appetites for women other than his wife. A pretty thing, she was, who, until your birth was completely worthless. As an heiress, he needed her money. Let’s say his tastes went to the underside of society, much as men in his position often do. His affections went more in the order of his lady’s maid. Imelda Tomkins, to be exact. My mother.”
Michael watched his cousin’s expression change in the dimness of the moonlight. There was a glow growing in Ambray’s eyes, the light of madness forming which spread across his face like a summer storm across a meadow. Suddenly, Michael realized that the insanity hidden within his cousin—no, half-brother—had always been a part of his visage. He’d always known the man who’d stood over him in his father’s affections as somewhat off the center. But now, that trait overtook his personality. As he watched, Michael’s guardian angel transformed into Lucifer himself. Red eyes stared at him, like knife-points, stabbing into Michael’s awareness. Even Ambray’s usually golden complexion had deepened to a dark, bluish cast. His pale, blonde hair dampened against his brow.
Michael moved back, half a step, all too aware of the nearness of the cliff behind him and of the rocky sea below.
“What are you saying? That you’re my older brother and not my cousin?”
Michael instinctively knew that he needed to keep the madman before him talking. Only that would buy him time to make an escape,

or perhaps allow Wexley’s men the chance to find them both. They were behind the estate, not far from where the gardens overlooked the sea. If he squinted pass the tangle of trees to the east, he could just see the outline of his home. Surely the general would come looking for him? If not, there was a slim chance he could manage the rocky fall as he’d done often enough when he was a boy. If not, then Mouse would be a widow for certain.
“Don’t play the fool, Michael.” Ambray shouted. “You know very well what I’m saying. I am the earl’s oldest son. I should have gotten the inheritance. I should have been the one to continue his empire.”
“You make him sound like Julius Caesar, Ambray. Our father was nothing but a scoundrel, a rakehell who womanized and threw his money away on gambling houses and liqueurs. He was a traitor and a spy. How can you want to follow in the stead of such a man?
“You knew, didn’t you?” Ambray stepped threateningly forward, forcing Michael a grudging retreat as well.
“I’ve always known, Am. Since I was a boy, father tried to include me in his circles. I never would comply. I hated him as well as loved him. I couldn’t help myself after mother died. It’s the pain of being a child, I suppose. A child loves even a bad parent. Later on, I showed no aptitude for his intrigues. He became angered after awhile and cast me off. Not long after, you came to live with us. You became the son that I never could be.”
“Son, but not heir. Never that. I only came to live at Rosecliff because our esteemed Uncle Brody would no longer tolerate the care of his bastard,” Ambray’s voice deepened. I was to be your servant, Michael. Your playmate and friend. Your father couldn’t help himself. While he groomed you to take over his position as heir, he taught me well the other side of his affairs. Trading on confiscated goods, sending messages to the enemy. He got me into the army so that I could serve you, while bleeding out whatever intelligence information I could find for his circle of conspirators.”

“It was you who took me prisoner in Spain,” Michael breathed softly.
Ambray smiled. “You never guessed. See how clever I am, brother.”
“What do you plan to do now, Ambray? Kill me? Even if you do, you’ll not inherit the title.”
“Oh, but there is another way. I will take the name that is rightfully mine, as the husband to the Winningham widow.”
Michael shook his head. “That’s madness, Ambray. Mouse would never marry you.”
Ambray’s smile deepened. “Perhaps not now, but later. She’ll want to keep quiet the scandal of her affair with her husband’s cousin.”
“Mouse has no care what society thinks of her reputation. She’s stronger than that.”
“Is that what you think?” Ambray moved a step closer. “You’re mistaken, my brother. It was but a few weeks ago when your wife came to me, begging for me to release her from the betrothal. She was so distressed that she fell into my arms, sobbing and pleading with me. It was all I could do to turn her away, poor thing.”
“You’re lying. She would never do such a thing.” The memory of his first wife in a tangled embrace with Ambray flashed through his mind like lightning. A sudden surge of anger burst into his blood.
“She has little choice, brother. When I’ve finished with you, I’ll find her. I’ll tell her of her husband’s unfortunate accident. Overcome with grief, she’ll come to me for comfort. By the end of the summer, the poor widowed lady will be full with child, one who will advance the name of Winningham. It will be my son or daughter who will claim the family wealth. I’ll marry Miranda and it’ll be my blood which rules the house, Michael, not yours.”
It was Michael’s turn to smile. “I’m afraid,” he started when he noted Ambray’s confusion, “that your plans have come to naught,

Ambray. You’re too late to gain anything in that quarter. You’ll end up with nothing.”
“Nothing?” Ambray shouted, stepping forward so that he nearly was nose to nose with Michael. “What are you saying? You think I’m not capable of siring a child?”
Michael let his expression harden, “I’ve no doubts as to your abilities, brother, but you simply cannot make my wife pregnant,” he paused a moment to allow the effect of his words to form into the weapon which would strike the hardest. “Because she already carries a child. Mine.”
Instantly Ambray stepped back, leveling the pistols menacingly at Michael’s once again. “You bastard.” He lifted the muzzle, pointing the gun straight at Michael’s chest. In the split of an instant, a loud crack sounded. Michael jerked backwards as the bullet hit him.
~ * ~
Mouse walked for the better part of an hour. Cursing as the wild bramble caught on her skirts. Doing her best not to stumble, she carefully navigated the rugged path. Around her a cacophony of night birds sang eerie melodies, that only added to her growing anxieties.
Twenty minutes later, Mouse noted that the road she’d been following had visibly shrunken to a worn path in the grass. To her left was a small wooded area, to her right were the climbing rocks and the sound and smell of the sea beyond it. Suddenly she came to the edge of a clearing and was rewarded by the sight of two figures standing a few feet from the sharp drop of the stone into the sea.
As she approached, she could make out the sound of raised voices. Clearly recognizable as Michael and Ambray’s, the two were arguing, though not loud enough for Mouse to hear the ******* of their speech. Her heart jumped when Ambray moved sharply forward and Michael stepped back, placing himself even closer to the edge of the cliff. Only a few more feet and he’d be in danger of losing his footing and falling to the rocks below.

Suddenly she saw a glimmer of something in Ambray’s hand. It looked as though a piece of the moonlight had suddenly appeared between them. She ran towards the two men, an uneasy feeling stirring in her chest. The light shifted and she saw what her husband faced. Ambray threateningly raised the pistol upwards. Before Mouse could draw a single breath, the world exploded.
Mouse watched, frozen in time while a spark of light burst forth and was quickly consumed by the darkness. At the same moment, Michael jerked backwards as though a great wind had knocked into him. Waving his arms madly he tottered between cliff edge and the drop until, unable to hold his balance any longer, he fell backwards and into the nothingness behind him.
“No!” Mouse screamed, flinging herself forward, the pain from the sight of her husband’s fall nearly tearing her in half.

“No!” Mouse screamed again. Her footing stumbled as she raced towards the place where her husband had stood only moments before.
Ambray turned at the sound of her voice.
“Lady Winningham, what a surprise it is to see you. I am so glad that we’ve found you.” Ambray smiled fully. He looked much like a parody of himself, wearing a wide grin and bits of his hair sticking out at all angles. His disheveled appearance gave him a clownish look, a parody of his usually impeccable self.
“Michael!” She called out, ignoring Ambray, attempting to run past him. He still held the gun, though at an odd angle. As she neared him, he reached for her, grasping her arms and pulling her towards him.
“Here, here, Miranda. You must not go to close. You might fall!”
“Let go of me, you beast.” She struggled to loosen his hold. “You shot Michael.”
“I had no choice. He tried to kill me.”
Mouse’s chest tightened so that she could hardly breathe. “Liar. You killed him.”
“No, sweetness, I didn’t want to hurt him He would have shot us both! He was insane.”
Mouse’s struggles grew harder. “No. You’ve hated him all along. You poisoned him, you meant to kill him.”

Ambray shook her angrily. “Is that what you think? That I’ve hated him. He was my family. I loved Michael like a brother.” His hardened face twisted into a garish stone carving.
Mouse suddenly quieted. She knew she could do her husband no good as long as Ambray held her. There was a small chance he might be alive. Mouse remembered Michael telling her something about a ledge. If only she could get loose from Ambray. That was, if Ambray’s shot hadn’t been true.
“Of course, you did, Ambray,” she whimpered. “But, he might yet be alive, we’ve got to go for some help.”
“No, Miranda. There’s little hope of that. It’s best for me to get you back to the house now. We’ve plans to make, you and I.”
“Plans?” Mouse whispered. “What are you talking about?”
“I am speaking of you and I, dearest. What we shall tell your family and society.”
Mouse couldn’t help but stiffen. “What shall we tell them, Ambray?”
He smiled his angelic features returning to normal. Mouse noticed how he held himself as though he were preparing to attend a soiree.
“Why, of our impending marriage, of course.”
“Marriage?”
“Yes, Miranda. You and I shall be happily wed before the week is out. We’ll send for a special license.”
Mouse shook her head, “I’m already married—” she began.
“To a corpse, my love. With Michael now gone we have a chance for a real life together, you and I.”
Mouse shook her head and struggled once again to break free.
“No. I won’t marry you, Ambray.
“But you will,” his face darkened as he strengthened his grasp. “You will marry me and as soon as you dispense with the brat you are carrying, you will be prime to birth my children. Our offspring will take their rightful place in society.”
“No!” Mouse screamed, “Someone help me!” She managed to twist enough that she pulled from Ambray’s grasp. Turning quickly she ducked beneath his arms and began to run. She’d only made it a short distance when he was neatly on top of her.

“It was much easier with Katerina but I convinced her, as I shall convince you my sweet!”
Mouse screamed with every ounce of her energy. Though his hands held her tightly, she managed to scratch his face and kick out with her feet. Landing a few blows, Mouse knew that she was no match for him, but she continued to fight and would do so until her last breath.
~ * ~
Michael realized several things at once. At the edge of his vision, he’d seen a rushing figure coming towards them. A small, woman’s shape burst forth from the copse of trees. Mouse had found him at last.
In the next instant a shot rang out. Michael jerked backwards, an explosive burning in his left shoulder.
Hanging for what seemed an eternity, Michael balanced between life and death, sanity and madness.
In less than the span of a heartbeat, Michael tipped backwards, plunge downwards, the view of his half-brother and wife shorn from his sight. Tumbling out of control, he scrambled desperately, grabbing at the stone face of the cliff, tearing fingertips and hands on the jagged rock, trying to get some hold of the blessed earth. Ignoring the pain now spreading through his left side, the earl finally found an outcropping to grab onto. With a bone-jarring jerk, he managed to halt his fall to the sea, at least momentarily.
Hanging suspended between life and death, Michael began to feel the edges of darkness crowd around his vision. Not now. By force of will, the earl pushed away the encroaching darkness.
Suddenly, Mouse screamed above him. Frantic, Michael grappled with the cliff face. When he was a child, he’d scaled these rocks many times. It was a place that he’d gone for refuge when his father’s insults had been too fierce or his hand too heavy for a small boy.
As he continued to search the cliff, Michael heard the sound of his wife’s cries. He could barely make out Ambray’s voice, low and threatening, like a snake coiling around Mouse. With renewed determination, Michael managed a small foothold and began to

strengthen his position. It was then that he saw it. The tiny ledge which offered him hope of survival.
The only problem was that he needed to reach his right arm over about two feet and lean sideways while still holding onto the rock face with his left. The pain in his arm was increasing, and he knew he’d little chance of holding on for much longer. He examined the wound. It had been a clean shot through the left shoulder, and though it continued to bleed steadily, Michael was sure it wouldn’t be life threatening. The fall certainly would be. His only hope was to throw himself towards the small ledge and pray that his good right arm would carry his weight.
Breathing deeply, he managed to ward off the impending seizure, but knew well that it lay just around the corner of his mind. His heart beat rapidly and his body prepared for one final thrust onto the ledge.
Mouse screamed again, and with no further thought, Michael jumped. He knew only the few sparse seconds between life and death, a fall into abyss or the steady reassuring grasp upon solid earth. It was the earth that saved him. He shot onto the small ledge, nearly overstepping the ground but gaining enough momentum to make the leap clean and landing with a thump against the cliff.
For a few seconds, Michael merely breathed. Though his victory was a small one for a man’s life, it was also momentous. He’d managed to survive and the darkness had yet to overtake him. Now, at least there was a glimmer of hope that he would be able to rescue Mouse. And then the devil take him if he must, but Michael would at least accomplish that.
Breathing deeply twice more, he steeled himself for the climb back up to the cliff. Pushing against the rocks, he turned slightly and began searching for the path upwards that would get him to safety. Within moments he was scaling the rocks, slowly, painstakingly, and knowing full well that his weight might prove to loosen the age-old soil and send him to his death. But taking each hold with the grim determination and cool nerve that only came to one during times of true crises, he ascended. Propelled by the knowledge of his wife’s assault, Michael climbed steadily upward.

It seemed to Michael that hours had gone by, when in truth, only minutes had passed. Finally making the very edge of the outcropping, Michael began the final pull toward relative safety, toward his cousin and his wife.
~ * ~
Mouse was near to panic. Ambray now had her pinned beneath him. His mouth crushed hers. His right hand held her wrists above her head and his left tore at her clothing. All too aware of Ambray’s strength overpowering her, Mouse knew she could no longer fight him. Instinct told her if she was to stay alive she must surrender. And, yet, her thoughts echoed, did she really wish to live without her husband? Could she raise his child knowing that his enemy had beaten her so completely? Despair and remorse flooded through her. It wasn’t fair that she and Michael’s destiny would never be fulfilled. She would never have the chance to show her husband what a life of love and friendship was truly like.
As Ambray’s assault on her continued, Mouse began to feel lightheaded, as though she were riding a raft on a strong river current about to be plunged off a waterfall. Her strength giving out, she could no longer fight him. Her heart raged that at least her husband’s child would survive. Silently she swore she would have her own form of revenge on Ambray Kelton one day.
Her vision fading, she drew in a quick sob. Ambray’s hold on her loosened. For a moment, he pulled back, his eyes darting around quickly as if sensing that some threat loomed nearby. The change in his actions gave Mouse the chance to sob once. Feeling a faint come upon her, she welcomed the darkness that was now her only escape from her attacker. Just as her vision blurred, she became aware of another figure, looming over Ambray, moving slow but determined toward them. Before she knew what was happening, Mouse sank into the sands of unconsciousness.
~ * ~
Michael first saw the lump of tangled limbs and clothing on the ground, fifty feet from where he’d gained his footing on level earth. Stumbling forward he made uneven progress towards them. Mouse had been putting up a good fight, but as was their lot, women could

not defeat the enraged beast that was man. For half a moment Michael’s heart nearly burst for love of his wife. She fought like a lion and he knew she would continue to do so as long as she was able.
When he was barely ten feet from them, Ambray stopped his assault and quickly surveyed the night around him. Michael knew that his plans for a surprise attack were thwarted. Still, he did not let that deter him. Leaping forward, he landed upon his half-brother with all of his strength. Rolling sideways he saw that Mouse lay crumpled on the ground beside them, her pallor as white as a lily and her body looking much like a broken doll with its limbs all akimbo. A new anger rose within Michael seeing his wife in such a state, he was both incensed at Ambray’s treatment of her and his own inability to protect her from his half-brother.
When they were children, Ambray was always larger, older and stronger. Michael had been a quick study and had learned all of the lowland ways of hand to hand combat. Now, as grown men, the two were near to evenly matched on a good day. For Michael, this was not even close to a good day. His left arm burned like the devil had set fire to it and his hands suffered scrapes and bruising from climbing the rocks. He wasn’t sure how much blood he’d lost, but he knew that he’d need to finish the combat quickly for Ambray’s injuries were few and it was very likely that his half-brother would overtake him in a long engagement.
With all of his strength thrown into a single swing, Michael landed a right cross against the other man’s jaw. A stunning blow, it felt as if he’d thrown his entire shoulder out. But, such was not the case. Ambray, lying on the ground beside him, feinted back. Ambray’s fist slammed against Michael’s temple and knocked him backwards. A mixture of fear and panic pushed Michael to his feet, but when he regained full sight of his opponent, he saw that Ambray had produced a second pistol and was aiming the gun directly at Michael, very steady, showing every intention of using it.
In desperation, Michael lunged forward, locking the two of them together in an unholy embrace, their bodies pressing the gun between them. Struggling against each other, they again went to the ground, rolling like unruly schoolboys. Suddenly Ambray gained the better

hold, and his hand slipped upwards and into the trigger. Michael felt the difference in his opponent’s position. With a final push of energy, Michael rolled from under his adversary. At the same time, he felt his left arm knock into Ambray’s and the jarring shock of the gun’s discharge rocked them both.
Suddenly all movement stopped between them. Michael looked into Ambray’s shocked expression. Slowly the man’s eyes drifted downward to the weapon cradled against his chest and the large circle of blood that took shape on his shirt and grew to encompass the buttons and laces that had been all the rage that season. In the next seconds Ambray Kelton slumped forward, still clutching the pistol like a mother holding her newborn babe, and fell face first into the dirt.
~ * ~
For a few moments, Michael didn’t move. He half expected Ambray to rise, and give him the devil for acting so rashly. But one thing was clear as Michael sat back on his heels. He felt no guilt. The man who’d revealed himself as a half-brother, had lied about being a friend, about being his caretaker, now lay bleeding into the dirt and Michael felt no remorse. Suddenly gone from his heart was the pain of Katerina’s death. He realized that Ambray had been responsible for that, and perhaps for his father’s death as well. When he looked over to Mouse, lying so quiet on the ground beyond them, Michael felt only anger that she too almost fell prey to Ambray’s evil nature.
“Mouse.” The wind seemed to whisper her name around him. Michael quickly scrambled the few feet that lay between them. Quickly, he gathered her up in his arms, then unsteadily gaining his feet, he cradled her close to his chest and set off for the house. Though he was bruised and pistol shot, he felt none of the burden. He realized as he walked the uneven ground that she’d lost weight, that the combination of his absence and her motherly state had likely taken its toll on her. No longer did she carry the childish face, round and innocent of the world. She was a sharp beauty, but one that had matured in the months since they’d met. He felt a fierce pang of regret at having caused this change in her.

And yet, as he looked down at her, her complexion glowed, though still pale from her struggle with Ambray, she clearly was regaining some of her color. For that he was glad, and promised himself that he’d no longer be the cause of her distress.
Staggering, Michael finally made the side door of the house. He could hear the hounds baying in the distance. Surely the hunt for them was ongoing. Fear shot through him at the thought of Mouse being captured by Ambry’s henchmen. Taking a deep breath, Michael forced himself forward, clutching his wife in his arms, determined to get her to safety no matter what.
Realizing he wouldn’t make the stairs and be able to get Mouse to her bedroom, he made a side trip into the library. As he entered the huge room, he noted first that the usually spotless room had been left to ruin. Papers and books were strewn about as though someone had been searching for something important.
Settling Mouse on the settee, he sank down to the floor beside her. Cradling her hands in his own, Michael vigorously rubbed them to try and reduce the chill that had overtaken her. Mouse only sighed beside him. Leaning forward, he knelt before her and bent his head so that it rested next to hers.
“Oh, sweet Mouse. I am so sorry for all of this. You should have stayed in London. At least you would have been safe there.”
“Safe, perhaps,” a voice came from the door, “but pity the poor woman’s heart, for she couldn’t live without you.”
Michael’s grasp on Mouse’s hands tightened. He looked up to see Wexley standing in the doorway, Mauler hovering behind him, an evil shadow.
“Leave her be,” Michael growled, surprised at his tone. The threat of the general’s presence had filled him with a new energy.
“We have an arrangement, Michael. You’re wife’s folly and your own murderous intentions have changed nothing.”
Michael shook his head. “I am sorry, Wexley. Ambray is dead, so things must change. Sooner or later it will be found out that I killed him. When that happens, either I will be locked away or hung. Either way, I won’t be any value to you. You’d best pack it off and start your plans anew.”

“Nonsense, Michael. It’s clear that what happened between the two of you was in self-defense. In fact, you’ve relieved one complication for me. Ambray was beginning to wear. Now he’s gone, it clears the way for you and I.”
“Michael?” Mouse stirred beside him.
“It’s all right, darling, I’m here.” Michael leaned closer.
Mouse settled into his embrace. “Is that really you Michael?” She whispered. “I thought I saw…” Suddenly she came more awake. A look of both relief and panic took over her face. “I saw you go over the cliff! I saw Ambray shoot you!” Her arms scrambling, she quickly pushed him back, her hands spreading across his shirtfront as if to make certain he was real and not a ghost.
“I did get shot, and yes, I went over the cliff. Fortunately I caught a ledge and managed to pull myself back up.”
“But, what happened to Ambray? He thought you were dead, then he assaulted me! He was insane, Michael.”
“Yes, he was.” Michael dropped his head. “He will trouble us no more, Mouse. He’s dead. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but I couldn’t wrestle the pistol away, and when it fired, it killed him.”
“Oh, Michael,” she murmured, pulling him closer once again. “I am so sorry. It’s true I never trusted him, but he was your only family.”
“More than that, Mouse, he was my half-brother. A man cheated of his inheritance. I don’t blame him for hating me.”
“While this is all pleasant enough, Kelton, you and I have work to do. I’ll leave Mauler here to watch over your bride. You and I shall ride into the village. Our contact will be arriving tonight.”
Mouse looked up, seeing Wexley for the first time. “Michael, what’s going on here?” She demanded.
Michael found he couldn’t answer her. To do so would have made him a traitor. He looked away a moment before speaking.
“It doesn’t involve you, Mouse. I made an arrangement with General Wexley and now I must honor it.”
“Arrangement? Of what sort?”
“I agreed to help him secure the trade lines my father maintained during the war. It’s a smuggling operation, Mouse. One that supplied

weapons and ammunition to Napoleon’s forces. I am sorry, I cannot tell you more.”
He watched emotions play across her eyes. “And, what do you receive from him? I know it isn’t material wealth, Michael. You’ve no need for more money.”
“No, not money. Freedom. Freedom for you and the baby. You’ll get safely back to London and be left out of this.” He leaned closer, “and when I’m caught, you’ll have no guilt to stain you.”
Mouse shook her head. “No. I’ll not accept that, Michael. You are not a traitor. He is forcing you to do this.”
“I know it seems that way. I am not blameless, Mouse. I’ve known of my father’s business dealings for years. I just never realized the scope of his influence or the identity of his associates. So, you see, my love, I am as guilty as they.”
A loud blast shook the house.
Wexley ran towards the ************************************************************ **** “Gunfire. That must mean enemies approach. I left O’Malley to guard the front gates.”
“Someone’s shooting at the manse?” Mouse asked, confused.
“What it means, Mouse, is that most likely the Crown has discovered our dealings here and have come to arrest us.”
“How could they know? I’ve been discreet.” Wexley muttered, backing away from the window, pulling out his own pistol.
“One of your underlings has been sending missives to the palace. Betrayal or patriotism, would be my guess.” Michael smiled tiredly, the effects of his wounds and fatigue growing by the moment.
“It can’t be.” Wexley announced. “I was most careful choosing my staff. Except for Ambray. Could it be he was responsible?”
“I doubt it. Ambray wasn’t concerned with anyone’s well-being but his own.” Michael felt himself pitching forward. He heard Mouse call his name, and leaned into the sound.
“I’m here, my love.” He said resting in her arms.
Suddenly the door burst open and Timothy O’Malley stepped inside. “Hello, general.” Holding a cocked pistol and motioning four armed soldiers in the room beside him, he bowed formally to Mouse. “Lady Winningham.”

“O’ Malley? How dare you.” Wexley’s face mottled with anger as he lowered his weapon.
“I dare, sir. Very much so. I am here as a representative of the Prince Regent, to place you and Lord Winningham under arrest for treason and murder.”

The small parlor was filled with the scent of fresh cut flowers. Mouse sighed and traversed the length of the room for the hundredth time. She hated waiting like this. It was even worse than when she’d been confined to the sickbed the days following her return from Rosecliff.
Finally returned to full health, she’d managed to escape her sisters. Mouse hadn’t wanted company these last few days. She continued to pace the small room, waiting for word of her husband and the charges against him. From Rosecliff’s library they had been trundled off to London, in two separate carriages. She and O’Malley in one, and her husband and General Wexley under guard in the other. It turned out the men he was set to meet had been agents working undercover for the Crown. Wexley’s plan had been foxed from the start. The authorities were closing in upon the smuggling ring. They needed only the last few conspirators to finish the case. The General had long been suspected, however Michael was a newer wrinkle in the fabric.
Just as she was about to leave the room and find out what was going on, Arthur appeared at the door.
“Miranda, dear. How long have you been here?” The older man stepped forward to embrace her.
“Not long, Arthur. I slipped away from Merry and Cat while they were shopping for new fabrics. I can’t stand it! Please, you must tell me what’s going on!”

“I’ll tell you what I know, but you must first sit down and take some tea with me. You look absolutely dashed! You should have stayed home, Miranda.”
She shook her head. “If I’d stayed another minute, I’d be mad. I’ve written to Michael several times and he’s not answered my letters. Is he sick? Have they done something to him in that awful place?”
“Michael is fine. He’s being held in special custody on Langford Street. A third rate lodging, but relatively clean and secure.”
“I want to see him, Arthur. Please.” Mouse twisted her kerchief relentlessly.
“I wish that I could arrange it, Miranda. But the circumstances are rather tight. Michael is facing some severe charges. While we know him to be innocent, it’s going to take a bit to sort everything through. It’s best you go home and wait this out. There is nothing for you to accomplish here.”
Mouse tried to hold back her tears. “Those horrid men. Michael isn’t to blame for any of this. It is the worst torture to keep him from his family.”
Arthur reached across the sofa and took her hands in his. “Dear one, Michael is allowed visitors. I didn’t know how to tell you this, but I’ve been to see him twice.”
“What? But, I thought—”
“I know and it is my fault for misleading you. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. The truth of it is that Michael requested not to allow your visits. He made it clear that you were not, under any circumstances to visit with him while he’s being held.”
“That can’t be.” Mouse turned away from him. “I’m his wife, Arthur. I love him.” As she spoke the last, her voice twisted in her throat.
“I know that and I suspect he does as well. This is all a terrible scandal and he is doing what he can to keep you from it.”
“There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Yes. Michael has been charged in the death of his cousin, but the Council seems to think that it is a superfluous charge at best. The other, and more pressing, concern is that of treason. Your husband has

knowledge of the whereabouts of a rather large cache of weapons. He is reluctant to share that information at the moment, knowing that the Crown may see him as a traitor after all. I don’t think that will be the case, though. There’s evidence a plenty that he was held by Ambray against his will, and that he was in no way connected with the piracy of the ship transporting the weapons, the conspiracy of men who planned to sell them to the French. But he did have knowledge of his father’s activities prior to his service in Spain and it looks as if he might have been Ambray’s accomplice. This could sway the court’s decision, thus there is a chance that he might be found guilty of treason.”
“And be hung.” Mouse could barely form the words.
“I am afraid so. Michael is trying to plan what would be the best course of action. It’s not an easy choice. Imprisonment if he doesn’t produce the merchandise or execution if he does.”
“Is there no way to help him?”
“Only if we can find someone to testify to his cousin’s activities. Someone who can prove that while he did know of his father’s storage facilities, he didn’t have knowledge of Ambray’s duplicity. Of course, wisely, the man didn’t take anyone into his confidence. There is no one who can prove or disprove Michael’s innocence.”
“What about General Wexley? He surely could testify on Michael’s behalf?”
“You would think so. The valiant officer was likely the biggest coward of all. He hung himself in his cell, two nights ago.”
“Oh!” Mouse fell back at his words. The air around her became suddenly thin, and she felt the nausea double in her stomach.
“Miranda! Are you ill? Should I fetch a physician?”
Arthur’s voice cut through her reverie like a hot knife through butter. “Arthur.! What did you just say?”
“I asked if you were sick. I will dispense one of my aides to find you a doctor immediately.” Her brother-in-law turned towards the door.
“No. Wait. I have it now. What a ninny I’ve been!” Mouse quickly ran to the table and pulled open a drawer. Taking out a piece of paper

and a pen from a nearby table, she quickly scribbled a name on the parchment.
“Here is the one man who can corroborate Michael’s involvement in all of this! The only man who knew Ambray’s aspirations from the start. In fact, he stood to gain the most from my husband’s malady.”
She quickly held the paper out to Arthur, who looked at it a brief moment before taking it. Upon seeing the name written there, his eyebrows flew up in surprise.
“Dear heavens, girl, I think you’re right!”
~ * ~
Michael fidgeted with his cravat one more time. He simply hated the damn things. Felt like he was strangling, like a noose was already around his neck. This was his judgment day and he’d no patience for the genteel wrappings of society. Damn it all, he wanted to be free of all propriety as he marched to his pronouncement of death. Was that too much for a man to ask?
The door to the courtroom creaked open. He noticed that it was a much sunnier day than his last appearance in these chambers. The oil lamps were left unlit, since the sunshine streamed through the halls, brightly adding life to the deep hued browns of polished wood floors and furniture.
“Lord Winningham,” A voice from across the room from him called loudly. Michael jumped at the sound of it. But it was friend and not foe, so his alarm settled down a notch in his breast.
“Your Grace,” Michael bowed towards Mouse’s brother-in-law.
“Here now, son, no time for titles today. We must hurry. I’ve come to bring you good news.”
“Sir?” Before Michael could ask more, the older man waved him down.
“Let’s hurry. You don’t want to miss this.” Arthur quickly ushered him down the long aisle, past the posted guards, right up to the main row of benches.
Michael sat, open mouthed at his benefactor’s cheery demeanor. “What’s this about, sir? I am to be pronounced today. Surely you cannot be so happy at my removal from your family? I know I am not the best husband for Miranda, but I do love her—”

“And so you should!” Arthur answered, but he was busy stretching his neck, looking towards the other entrance to the room. “Damn it all. They should be here by now.”
“Who?” Michael felt as if he were suddenly a stranger at his own funeral.
Arthur looked back at him sharply. “Who? You’ll see in a moment. I don’t want to spoil if for you. Miranda would have my head on a platter, you know.”
“About Miranda,” Michael began, the tone of his voice changing caused Arthur to lean forward slightly.
“Yes, what about Miranda?”
“I have something I want you to give her.” Michael reached inside his jacket pocket, producing a folded piece of parchment.
“Here,” Arthur began, “what’s this?”
“Papers for our divorce. I want you to give these to her to sign as soon as possible.”
The Duke looked as though someone had just shot him. “You mean to cut her loose do you?”
“Yes. I do. When I’m found guilty there will be nothing left to give her. I would have her receive all of my estates and accounts, except I fear the crown will have designs on that. I know that she has you and her sisters to care for her. That you would look after her and the child until she makes a suitable match.”
“What makes you so certain that you’re to be found guilty?”
“I am going to divulge the ************************************************************ **** of the arms. It’s the right thing to do, Arthur. Besides, it doesn’t matter. Even at the court’s mercy, with no one to act in my stead as guardian, I would be sentenced to a sanitarium at best. This way, I’ll have some say in my future.”
“Even if that future contained a walk to the gallows?”
Michael nodded, his throat too tight now to speak.
“Well. If you ask me, that’s the coward’s way out. It appears as if Wexley wasn’t the only half-oiled lamp in the pantry.” He thrust the paper back to Michael. “If you wish to give her up, sir, that is your business. I will not be your runner. You want to divorce her, then do so. But I will not be the one to deliver the blow that will break her heart.”

The judge’s gavel sounded as the proceedings began. Michael no longer cared about his own fate. He wanted only happiness for Mouse. She deserved it.
When he chanced to look up, a shadow fell upon him. Michael stared into the stone-like features of Winton Winthorp.
“My God,” he whispered.
“Lord Winningham.” The other man spoke stiffly. He then straightened himself and walked to stand before the podium.
Michael sat entranced by the other man’s testimony. The loud, boisterous tone of the physician’s voice filled the courtroom.
~ * ~
“Please tell us of your involvement with Ambray Kelton, Mr. Winthorp.”
“I first met Mr. Kelton when I was a medical student at Oxford. He proved to be most efficient in aiding my studies by procuring medical corpses for the college.”
“And later,” Arthur prompted.
“It was after he’d returned from Spain that he contacted me. He was concerned in finding proper care for his cousin, Lord Winningham.”
“And you were in a position to help him?”
Winthorp smiled, looking towards Michael. “Yes, I was. I have a small establishment in the town of Cadbury. I treat the mentally ill. Mr. Kelton was about to be given guardianship of his cousin. I was enlisted to treat him.”
“And that treatment involved what, Mr. Winthorp?”
“The usual management for the insane. I used the accepted practice of laudanum, bleeding and restraints to care for him.”
“Were your treatments successful?”
“I see his lordship seated with us now. That should be proof enough.”
“Indeed,” Arthur stated. “To your knowledge, was the earl in any condition to participate in the heinous activities of Mr. Ambray Kelton?”
“No. The earl was pretty much incapacitated, as I recall.”
“To what did you charge his condition? Was it his service in the war? Or, perhaps his abduction from the battlefield.”
“It was a malady from his childhood, I believe. Though, I’m sure those other circumstances intensified his illness.”
“Were you aware of any wrong-doings by Ambray Kelton?” Arthur asked pointedly.
Winthorp paused a moment. “I knew there was some knowledge that his lordship held which Kelton was interested in. The ************************************************************ **** of the caves that the late Lord Winningham had kept secret, I believe it was. But as I was engaged only to care for present Lord Winningham, it was of little import to me.”
“And when Mr. Kelton obtained that information? What was to become of Lord Winningham then?”
“He was to be placed in my care, in residence at the hospital in Cadbury.”
“Then, since your appearance before this court a full two years ago, it is your opinion that Michael Kelton, the fifth Earl of Winningham could not have been an accomplice to Ambray Kelton, or General Barton Wexley in the coveting of arms or conspiracy against the crown?”
“No, he wasn’t capable. In fact, I offer my services presently to his lordship for continued care, should he wish it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Winthorp. That will be all.”
~ * ~
Michael watched as the man stepped down. Of course, he knew that Winthorp had been as much a lackey to Ambray as Mauler and Horn. Just the same, he stood blameless in front of the court. Michael sighed as Arthur came to sit beside him.
“Damn fool. I intend to introduce a new investigation into medical practices to Parliament. We must root out such blatant malfeasance in the medical profession.”
Before Arthur could say more, the court was called to order. Lord Kensington stood to face the courtroom.
“It is the judgment of this court that his Lordship, the Earl of Winningham, Michael Kelton, in light of recent developments be found innocent of all charges of treason against the Crown of

England, as well as in the death of one Ambray Kelton. We believe that he acted in the need for self-preservation and only in self-defense. As an addendum to these proceedings, we further place Lord Winningham into the care of His Grace, Arthur Throckmorten, the Duke of Sutherly, from this day for no less than one year. At that time it will be determined if he is able to manage his own affairs. For now, gentleman, this court is adjourned.”
Michael could barely breathe. He glanced over to Arthur and was about to thank him. At that moment, an anguished sound touched at the edge of his hearing. He turned around in his seat, peering at the cause of so mournful a note. At the back of the courtroom stood Mouse. Dressed in a pale, yellow gown, she clutched her reticule in one hand, and a large, leather bound book in the other and looking very much as though she’d descended from the heaven itself.
~ * ~
Mouse couldn’t contain her emotions any longer. She let a cry of excitement escaped her lips, and she saw that it immediately drew her husband’s attention. As he gazed back at her, she met his stare openly. For a moment they were both transfixed by the other’s sight. Wordlessly, she watched as he slowly rose from his seat, ignoring the men who now milled around him. Step by agonizing step brought him closer, Arthur just behind.
“Beloved,” he said softly, taking her into a crushing embrace.
“Michael, I’ve missed you so!”
For a moment the world disappeared around them and for a time, to each only the other existed. Mouse inhaled his essence with her every breath,

“Dear Mouse,” Michael spoke, his voice low and coarse with emotion, “we must find a place to talk.”
~ * ~
Ensconced in a small sitting room, Mouse watched her husband thank Arthur, then close the door on her brother-in-law’s retreat. For a moment, Michael stood before her, his shoulders square, his body trembling slightly as he gathered whatever statements clouded his thoughts. She could see his lean figure, barely filling the tailored
black waistcoat and wool trousers. At least in the month that had passed, Michael had been fed, so that his captivity at Ambray’s hand seemed to have faded. When she looked close enough, Mouse could see the haunting sadness that darkened her husband’s eyes.
“Please, Michael. Come sit down.”
He turned to her then, his expression unreadable. “Mouse, there is something we must discuss. Our marriage.”
Mouse pulled in an unsteady breath. “I know we can make a good job of it, Michael. I love you!”
He knelt before her, taking her hands in his. Gently he rubbed them between his thumbs, making circles in her palms.
“And, I love you, Mouse. If that were all there was to it, I’d stay happily at your side for all of eternity!” He drew an unsteady breath. “But, I am not well, Mouse. I fear I never shall be.”
“That’s not true, Michael!”
“Yes, it is. That’s why you must agree to this. I can’t stay married to you, Mouse. You deserve much better than me. I will have Arthur draw up the proper papers. I’ll see to it that you and the child never want for anything!”
Mouse looked down at the crumpled paper he pulled from his suit pocket. “Why, Michael? Why throw it all away when happiness is in your grasp?”
He looked away from her. “I’ve told you, I can’t be married. Ever.”
“Why? You don’t believe all those lies that Ambray told you?”
“It isn’t a question of what I believe, Mouse. The facts cannot be refuted.”
She shook her head. “That’s not true. You only need some time and proper treatment.”
“Mouse, listen to me. I can’t be with you and the child because I might hurt you! I almost did that first night you stayed at Rosecliff. I could fall to the fits at any time. Don’t you see?”
Mouse backed away from him. “No. That’s not true. I won’t believe it. You didn’t know me then. You were ill and suffering from Winthorp’s care. Answer me this, have you had a fit since you left Rosecliff this time?”

He shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t. There is something that I haven’t told you, my love. There remains one unexplained death.”
Mouse stood her ground. “I know that you didn’t kill Elsbeth. Mr. O’Malley testified that Ambray had sneaked into her room that night. The two of them had argued. It was Ambray who killed her.”
Michael’s expression of sorrow deepened in the lines that cut into his face. “I know that. Once you asked me what it was that lay between Ambray and I. Why I both loved him and hated him. I loved him because he forgave me, Mouse.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He forgave me for the worst sin any man could commit. It was my fault Katerina fell to her death.”
“Michael, we’ve discussed this before. It was an accident. A terrible, tragic circumstance, but an accident none the less. If there was blame, it was for all three of you. Each of you had an equal part in the events, Ambray in his deceit, Katerina in her betrayal, and you for allowing them to stir your emotions beyond control.”
Michael gave her a bitter laugh. “You would think so, eh, Mouse? Except there was one more victim which Ambray and I kept secret. One other died that night. I didn’t know until Ambray told me later. And, believe me, I wish to God he hadn’t told me at all.”
“Nothing was said about another death, Michael, surely the authorities would have mentioned—”
“Katerina was pregnant!” Michael’s voice broke. “Of course, I knew it wasn’t my child. I had been unable to perform my husbandly duties since returning from Spain. It was when Ambray told me of their affair that I became enraged. I hated them both, but Katarina the most. Of course, I said terrible things and wished her dead. I never thought it would happen.”
“Michael, you can’t wish somebody dead. You didn’t kill anybody. I know you. You would never mean to harm anyone, especially a child.”
“The fact remains that whether I meant to or not, I caused a child’s death because of my insanity. That’s why I cannot stay with you. The dangers to you and the child are too great!”

“Oh, beloved. You can’t hold yourself to blame for this. Any number of things can happen to us. If I were to become hurt in a carriage accident or fall down a flight of stairs, those are things that cannot be predicted. Or, what if you were to be shot while hunting, or worse? The truth is we cannot predict the future. We mustn’t stop living our lives in fear of what might happen.”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly.
Mouse watched as his blue-green eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “Please, Michael. This time it will be different, I know it. When you’ve had a chance to heal, you will believe it, too. This time you will be in the arms of a loving family. There will be no laudanum to cloud your thinking or restraints to tie you down. I will be there, and so will Arthur, Cat, and Merry. And our children as well, Michael. Please, let us love you the way you deserve to be loved!”
She watched as the battle for his life played out on his expression. Clearly he struggled with her reasoning. But in the end, as his face slackened in surrender, he both won and lost the war for his logic.
“My God, Mouse, I find that I can refuse you nothing. I was a fool for ever believing so.”
“Never, my love. You are no fool, misguided a bit perhaps, but certainly nothing else.”
For a brief moment the two stared into each other’s eyes. Mouse waited, not daring to move for fear of shattering the fragile thread of emotion that formed a bridge between them. Then, she felt it. There was an almost palpable snap in Michael’s demeanor. For a second she thought he might toss her aside or run away. He did neither

“My goodness, Michael! You must calm yourself,” Merry stepped in front of her brother-in-law.
“How can I possibly be calm on a day like today?”
“Really, you must try,” Cat chided him cheerily, “for your own benefit, if no one else’s. Mouse is really quite done in and we must keep her in a quiet capacity. It’s for the best, you know. It was quite the ordeal.”
Michael hugged his two sister-in-laws, nearly tipping the three of them over. “I know, but I can’t wait any longer. It’s been hours. Surely you’ll give in to me, just this once?”
Arthur stepped into the morning room, an unlit cheroot in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other. “Dear ladies, can’t you see what strife Michael has been thrown into? We cannot let him dangle—it would be torturous for him.”
Catalina stared open mouthed to her sister. Merry, threw her hands into the air. “Very well, Michael, but only this once. She must have quiet.”
Though Merry’s last words were spoken sternly, Michael couldn’t help but glimpse the smile on her face. In an instant he was gone from them, racing up the wide staircase to his wife’s room.
~ * ~
Cautiously, he pulled back the door. Peering inside, he could just make out the dim candles burning. Though it was an hour before noon, the drapes had been drawn and the room was set with a yellowish glow.
“Mouse, are you awake?”
“Yes, beloved. I am. Come in and meet your son.”
Michael entered as though he were treading on egg********************************ls. Before him, lying in the bed that they had shared the past six months, was his wife. In her arms a small, wriggling bundle.
“Is he really ours, Mouse?” He pulled back the soft fabric that kept his child warm.
“Yes, Michael. Come, sit with me. He won’t bite you, he hasn’t any teeth. At least not yet, thank heavens.”
Michael barely breathed. Reaching out a tentative hand, he gently touched the small, soft brow of the babe.
“I love you, Mouse. For now and always.” He leaned forward, and placed a gentle kiss upon her forehead, careful not to press on the child between them.
“I love you, Michael. Now, we must be practical. For your first duty as father, you must give your son a name.”
“I was afraid that duty would fall to me. Very well, how about Michael Arthur Ellerton Kelton, the sixth Earl of Winningham.”
“Very proper, my love. Very proper.”
“Who would have thought the Mad Earl would ever come to this?” Michael asked as he watched the two of them.
“Who indeed,” Mouse placed a gentle kiss on her son’s forehead.