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

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

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

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

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

"Better. Is your throat sore, Ariel?"

"Very."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Checking on the horses."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Seventeen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Simon's lips tightened for a moment, then relaxed. He smiled and shrugged. "Men of Marlborough's caliber don't find it easy to dance to the tunes of a whimsical conductor- monarch or no. But I've not yet heard his loyalty questioned." His voice had the faintest edge to it.

Roland made some nonchalant answer, not prepared to attack the character of a man known to be among Simon's closest friends, and regarded as a demigod by the whole country.

"Do you know anything about a woman called Esther in these parts, Ravenspeare?" Simon addressed Ranulf, his tone still light and conversational. "She would have come here some thirty years ago. Maybe a few more."

Ranulf looked surprised. "I was but ten years old."

"I just wondered. I've a mind to discover her whereabouts, if she's still alive."

Ranulf now looked very interested. "What's she to you, Hawkesmoor?"

"Nothing, as far as I know. But there seems to be some family mystery about her." He shrugged again. "I detest mysteries."

"She came from Hawkesmoor land to Ravenspeare land?" Roland asked sharply. As usual, of the brothers, he was the quickest to grasp the point.

"Possibly."

"Are you implying that there might be some connection between our two families with this woman?"

"I know of none," Simon lied smoothly. "Her name was mentioned in my father's papers. Not much was said about her, except that she left Hawkesmoor land and it was believed that she had moved to Ravenspeare. I was curious and simply wondered if the name meant anything to you."