DELETED SCENE #1
Nev and Penelope visit the village on the Loweston estate.

This scene originally went between the end of Chapter 7 (Nev and Penelope's meeting with Kedge and Snively and Nev's explanation of the 1816 riot) and the beginning of Chapter 8. In it, Nev and Penelope visit the local village and meet Josie Cusher for the first time. It was one of the first things to go when I had to make major cuts (in fact, only one mention of the village remains in the final draft), but I always liked it. Note the original first appearance of Agnes Cusher's satin ribbon, and also of the ribbon Penelope is wearing in the first scene in Chapter 8.

Loweston was one great disaster, and the more Nev heard about what to do about it, the less soluble the problem seemed. He glanced at Penelope as they drove back towards the Grange. She looked small and wilted in her bonnet and black dress, holding tightly to the seat as they jolted over a hole in the road. He almost put an arm around her, but something stopped him. A week ago she'd been living in a luxurious townhouse, wanting for nothing. Now she was sitting in a farm cart under the hot sun, wearing mourning and learning just how bad a bargain she had made. The poor girl had barely spoken all day. Why would she be comforted by his arm?

They had nothing more to do, but Nev didn't want to go back to the house, where Penelope would closet herself with the books and he would be alone with his thoughts.

"Is there a dressmaker in the village?" Penelope asked.

He nodded, scenting a delay.

"Is she any good?"

"I think she is," Nev said uncertainly. His mother always got all her clothes in London, but Mrs. Appleby had made some of his clothes as a boy, and Louisa's schoolroom dresses.

"I need some new gowns. I don't—I don't have enough black. Would you mind terribly—"

"Not at all," Nev said with great sincerity. "Let's go."

She relaxed. Evidently she wasn't any more eager to return to the Grange than he was. On an impulse, he put his arm around her shoulders after all.

She pulled away, awkwardly.

He put his hand back on the reins, watching the road and trying not to show he was hurt. He could hear her fumbling with something. A moment later she touched his arm, and he turned to look at her. Her bonnet was in her lap. Her hair was coming apart in the back, but he didn't care. "I—the bonnet would have got in the way," she said.

Nev grinned at her, absurdly pleased. "I've been thinking that all morning," he said with a wink, and felt his grin widen when she flushed. He reached out and she snuggled into his shoulder, small and warm. For the first time that day, Nev felt like things might be all right.

The town was just as bad as the rest. Nev cast his eye down the small street—the alehouse, the blacksmith, the dressmaker, the baker, the cobbler. Most of the businesses were the same, but they seemed to have aged and shrunk since the last time he had seen them. Part of that, surely, was in his imagination, but he was certain that it was part fact as well.

How would it look to Penelope? It had certainly never interested him. The last time he had been home, he was just back from the Grand Tour with Thirkell and Percy. The three of them had stuck it out for four days before sloping off to London.

Nev hired a boy to hold the horses, and the two of them went into Mrs. Appleby's store. It was still clean and neat, but the shelves that had been full of bolts of fabric were half-empty. Sarah, the owner's daughter, who had nearly always been behind the counter since Nev was twelve and Sarah a few years younger, wasn't there. Mrs. Appleby, though, sat by the register, vacantly sucking a peppermint. When she saw them, she smiled and hurried forward.

"Lord Nevin—Bedlow! Is this Lady Bedlow?"

"Indeed it is," Nev said. "Lady Bedlow, this is Mrs. Appleby."

Mrs. Appleby bobbed an unsteady curtsey. "Pleasure to meet you, your ladyship."

"Thank you, Mrs. Appleby," Penelope said. "I was hoping to order a few black gowns from you; I am afraid I was woefully unprepared for the heat."

The woman's face lit up, and Nev wondered when her last big sale had been. Soon the dressmaker had bustled Penelope into the back room to be measured, and Nev was left to wait, feeling faintly resentful that soon Mrs. Appleby would have seen more of his wife than he had.

There was a stand on the counter, hung with brightly colored ribbons. Nev spun it idly, wishing he could buy one for Penelope. The lavender satin, in particular, would have looked perfect against her dark hair. He imagined it there. Then he imagined sliding it out and watching Penelope's brown hair slip down against her cheekbones and fall over her neck. He didn't think she kept it long enough to reach her breasts, so if she were naked, there would be nothing to hide them from him. He imagined dragging the ribbon across her bare bosom and down her stomach and following it with his mouth...

Penelope hoped Nev wasn't waiting too impatiently in the other room. She probably should have come back without him later, but she was desperate for new clothes-she hadn't had time to have very many black ones made up. Molly was washing her only other morning gown at that very moment, and the one now draped over Mrs. Appleby's chair already smelled a bit. She hoped Nev hadn't noticed when he put his arm around her. She looked in the mirror, and her heart sank.

Her hair had been flattened and tangled by her bonnet, and her face was red with the heat. And were her arms already starting to freckle from the sun? Freckles, how common, said a voice in her head that sounded a lot like Lucy Hopper from school. A glance at her gown revealed a dusty hem, with splotches of dirt on the backside from the wagon. Nev was in as bad a state from the heat and dust as she was, but somehow his flushed face and loosened collar just looked healthy and charmingly pastoral.

She felt suddenly humiliated at the memory of his casual embrace. He couldn't have wanted her against him, not her; he had simply been sorry for her, a poor city girl covered in dirt and sweat.

The dressmaker, glancing at her face, fumbled with the tape measure. "Is something wrong, my lady?"

"No, no." Penelope forced a smile. "I can't wait to choose my new gowns."

When they emerged from the back room, Nev was leaning on the counter, staring into space. He must be bored nearly to tears.

"Let me show you some patterns," Mrs. Appleby said eagerly. Going behind the counter, she took out a stack of pattern books and fashion plates, so many that some of them cascaded onto the floor.

"I just want something simple and light."

But the dressmaker showed her design after design, talking excitedly—something in her manner made Penelope wonder if the woman were a little simple—and they all looked more or less the same to Penelope.

"Maybe something like this one, but with only one flounce at the hem," she said at last, pointing at a short-sleeved muslin gown with a V-neck and narrow lace trim at the neck and sleeves. "Make sure the lace isn't any wider than this, though."

"We should get you a hat like that," Nev said, pointing at one of the women in the fashion plate. Penelope hadn't realized he was even paying attention. It was a tall bonnet ornamented with ribbands, ruched around the edge of the wide brim, with a profusion of ostrich feathers on one side and a wide ribbon tie. "If we asked the milliner to use black taffeta, it would be a lot cooler in this weather than the one you were wearing."

That was true, but the bonnet was a good deal showier than anything Penelope had ever worn. Her mother would like that bonnet. She could just imagine the whispers about vulgar Cits. "I'll...think about it," she said weakly. Nev shrugged and turned away, and Penelope almost wished she had agreed with him.

She and Mrs. Appleby finally decided on three dresses, with the understanding that Penelope would order more when she came back to pick them up. The dressmaker's inordinate gratitude made Penelope feel ill. This town was a disaster. She focused on a ribbon stand so she wouldn't have to look at the woman's glowing face. There was a satin ribbon in Penelope's favorite shade of lavender. Without thinking, she reached out and ran it through her fingers. Then her mind caught up with her—she was in mourning, she couldn't wear colors, she mustn't let Nev think she was repining—and she drew her hand back quickly, darting a glance at Nev. He was staring fixedly at her.

Penelope flushed. Nev had lost his father, and she was sorry because she couldn't wear a satin ribbon? But her treacherous eyes turned back to it. She hated to admit it, but she wanted something to make her feel pretty.

"Do you have one like this in black?" she asked.

The dressmaker nodded.

"I'll take it."

Nev watched Mrs. Appleby painstakingly count out Penelope's change. He remembered her fitting him for his first pair of breeches, her fingers deft and sure. He must have been a squirmy child, but she had never stuck him with a pin. Now her hands trembled slightly. As she reached out to hand Penelope the change, she bumped her elbow on the edge of the counter and dropped the coins. Nev, suddenly suspicious, scanned the counter. Sure enough, a Loweston Arms tankard peeked out from behind the register. The woman wasn't growing old—she was drunk.

What the devil had happened to Sarah? Nev was about to ask when the bell over the door jangled and a girl of about eight or nine came in. She was skinny and blonde and wearing a dress several sizes too small, but she walked up to the counter with the confidence of a queen.

"I'd like that ribbon, please." She pointed to the lavender one Penelope had wanted.

Mrs. Appleby pursed her lips. "Have you got the money for it?"

"Yes, and I earned it, too." The girl held out tuppence.

"I'm sure your mother is very proud of your hard work," Mrs. Appleby said sarcastically.

The girl scowled and flushed, but she brightened when the ribbon was in her hand. She stroked it, turned it this way and that, and then ran out of the store.

Penelope watched the ribbon go with a rueful smile that made Nev want to kiss her.

"She used to be such a good girl," Mrs. Appleby said. "Followed after Sarah everywhere. I thought she would do piecework for me, in time." She shook her head. "It's not her fault. How could she grow up honest with that woman for a mother?"

"Mrs. Appleby," Penelope said, sounding shocked, "are you suggesting that that girl stole that money?"

Mrs. Appleby started. "Oh, of course not!" she said hastily. "I don't know what I meant! It just makes me so angry—that girl's little brother goes hungry half the week, and she comes in here buying a ribbon! If the folk hereabouts were only better at managing money, they'd have plenty, let me tell you. Of course Sarah never agreed—" She shut her mouth abruptly.

"Mrs. Appleby," Nev said, dreading the answer, "where is Sarah?"

Mrs. Appleby's face grew long. "My poor, poor girl. This would all have been hers, you know. Who's to have it after I'm gone now?"

"What happened?" Penelope asked gently.

"She emigrated to America."

Nev let out his breath all at once. He had expected something much worse. "Why?"

"She said she would send for me," Mrs. Appleby said querulously, "but she never did. But I know who's to blame—it's that Aggie Cusher! Aggie was always hanging about, asking Sarah to read her them radical pamphlets and talking about the working folk and the Corn Laws and things that nice girls shouldn't worry their heads about! That's always how it is; there are a few bad apples and they turn all the rest rotten."

Nev wondered if his own face mirrored Penelope's naked look of distress.

"Sarah helped Aggie write up that list of demands to take to the magistrate in '16, though I told her no good could come of it, I told her! And then things got out of control, and they smashed up our store and took our money, and Aggie Cusher right among them not saying a word against it! It broke Sarah's heart. And then it was off to America, leaving me to clean up the mess! It's hard running a business alone, let me tell you, and I'm not getting any younger. Do you know what it cost me to replace the windows?"

"No," Nev said, his heart like lead. While he had been safely in Cambridge, anxious but rather excited because he might be given a gun and excused from classes, people at Loweston had been watching their lives crumble around them. And Nev had no doubt that the fault lay, not with criminals from London or radical pamphlets, but with his own family's mismanagement and unconcern.

DELETED SCENE #2
In which Percy teaches Nev's little brother to play cards and Nev doesn't approve. (Yes, in the first draft he had a little brother.)

This scene originally followed the one in Chapter 12 where Lady Bedlow suggests that Penelope must naturally feel more comfortable with Percy because he is so much nearer her own class. In my first draft Nev had a little brother, Charlie. In that version Sir Jasper had also had a son, Jamie. Charlie and Jamie were friends until Jamie (instead of Sir Jasper's wife, who died of a fever or something) was killed by a spring-gun while the boys were out playing "Robin Hood." Charlie was, understandably, rather traumatized by this experience.

Charlie didn't serve much of a purpose beyond me really liking a couple of his scenes, so he was one of the first things to go in revisions. I kept the bit with Nev working in the fields, of course, and the last part of this excerpt led into a conversation between Penelope and Nev that now appears in Chapter 14, the scene where Nev reads to Penelope from the Morte d'Arthur.

The next day, driven by a hundred different dark swirling emotions, he rode to the home farm and worked in the fields alongside the men. After six hours of hard labor in the hot sun, he felt sore but sated, drained of anger and jealousy by exhaustion. He felt almost content—although his satisfaction was marred by the sight of what the men had eaten for dinner. A little oat bread and water was all most of them had had. Nev, eating bread and bacon and beer with the foreman, had felt positively decadent.

Still, they had seemed friendlier than before. He was beginning to know their names. The harvest, while not abundant, was respectable.

Nev bathed and changed into a fresh set of clothes, thinking that this was all ridiculous. He was a suspicious fool. Penelope loved accounting and she felt sorry for Percy, that was all. Perhaps he was being stubborn and unfair; perhaps there would be no harm in Nev spending time with Percy, here at Loweston. He pictured the three of them dining together and discussing business, the picture of country respectability. He would go see Percy directly and apologize, and everything would be fine.

He galloped down the stairs, wincing once or twice at twinges from muscles in his calves, and made for the steward's office.

There was no one in the office, but the door to the adjoining sitting room was ajar, and light and voices spilled through. He did not know what made him slow down, and step to where he could see without being seen.

Percy was playing cards with Louisa and Charlie, while Penelope sat at the same table with an agricultural journal in front of her. Her eyes, though, were on Percy, who was showing off what he could do with cards. Percy never used those tricks where anyone could see, because they made him look like a sharp, or worse, a hired dealer at a gaming hell. But he loved to practice them; Nev remembered long evenings sitting by the fire with a glass in his hand, talking desultorily and watching the cards flow between Percy's hands, fanning out and snapping shut and cascading in a waterfall to the table.

Now Nev's family was sitting around Percy watching him with shining eyes. Nev had tried so hard to be a better man—a different man—for them, and they shunned his company as if he had the plague. Louisa always seemed discontented these days, and he had barely seen Charlie smile since Lord Bedlow died. Penelope had stopped even wanting to eat dinner with him. But they crowded around Percy admiringly enough for the sake of a few card tricks. Charlie actually laughed out loud as Percy reached forward and pulled the ace of spades from behind his ear, and Nev was seized with a blind rage that coalesced, for some reason, at Penelope.

"What in blazes is going on here?" he demanded, striding into the room.

They all looked up at him, frozen. Penelope saw his eyes on her face and flushed guiltily. It drove him into an even greater rage. "And what were you about, permitting it?" he asked her. "I thought I could at least trust you to have more sense!" He knew it was one of the worst things he could say to her. She went pale, and he felt a savage satisfaction.

"P—Percy was just teaching me to play piquet," Charlie said.

"I see that," Nev said icily.

"Charlie said—that he was having trouble with maths and French at school," Penelope said, so softly he had to strain to hear her. "Mr. Garrett thought that learning to count and name the hands might help."

Nev finally turned on Percy. "Of course. You immediately thought that perhaps the way to teach him maths was to teach him to gamble? I—I thought I wasn't being fair to you, but evidently I was being generous, because it never occurred to me that you would sink to this. He's only eight, for God's sake!"

Louisa leapt to her feet, her face red. "Stop talking to him that way! Percy, tell him—"

"Yes, Percy, tell me," Nev said dangerously.

"He's going to school," Percy said, two red splotches of color burning in his cheeks. "You were at school, if I remember aright. You remember what it was like. How long do you think it will be before someone teaches him? Better he learn from me than from some older boy who's only after his pocket money—"

Nev felt suddenly sick. "I do remember what it was like. I remember you teaching younger boys to play piquet and taking their pocket money. So generous of you to warn my brother away from boys like you."

"Percy wouldn't do that!" Louisa said fiercely.

Percy did not say anything.

"Oh, I thought it was great sport, too," Nev told his sister. "We were charmers, all of us. Why are you defending him? Do you want Charlie to grow up just like every other Ambrey male? Do you want him to be a dashed wastrel who doesn't know any better than to end up with a bullet through his brain?"

Charlie, who had been sitting perfectly still, staring at Nev in that painful way as if he were afraid of him, jumped at this as if he'd been given an electric shock. He dashed past Nev and fled through the office and down the hall.

The rage drained out of Nev, leaving him feeling sick and guilty and ashamed. "Oh, hell."

Penelope stood up. "We'd better find him," she said briskly. He could not look at her, now. He knew if he did, she would be wearing that expression that meant she disapproved of you but was trying to be kind and pretend that she didn't. Nev nodded, but he didn't move. Penelope came round the table and took his arm. "Come on. Let's try the nursery."

He let her pull him from the room. As he left he heard Percy saying, "He was right. I should never have—"

"He wasn't right," Louisa snapped. "How old were you when all that happened?"

"Eleven," Percy said. "Twelve, maybe. Old enough to know better."

"Everyone is a fool at eleven," Louisa said. "It doesn't mean anything."

Charlie wasn't in the nursery. Penelope suggested—Nev's brain felt frozen—that they split up and each take one side of the house. Nev, searching alone, was beginning to entertain visions of Charlie lost and cold on the Loweston grounds at night—of Charlie stumbling on poachers. He was on the verge of rousing all the servants for a full-scale search when he thought to check the cabinet in the sitting room Charlie had hidden in when Sir Jasper came to call. Charlie was sitting behind some old cloaks, rocking lightly back and forth.

"Charlie," Nev said, kneeling down. "I'm sorry I yelled. I was angry, but I shouldn't have yelled."

Charlie did not look at Nev. "I don't want to be shot in the head."

Nev was cold all over, except for his burning cheeks. "I don't know why I said that. It was a stupid thing to say. Of course you won't be shot in the head."

"Will—will you be shot in the head?" Charlie asked, so quietly Nev almost didn't hear him.

"Of course not. I'm being very careful. Here, come out of the cabinet."

Charlie shook his head silently.

"Why not?"

"I'm afraid of the traps."

"The traps?" Nev asked, completely at sea. "What traps?"

"The spring-guns. I thought they were only outside," Charlie said very fast. "But if you can get shot playing cards—"

Nev felt as if someone had punched him in the chest. All this time, poor Charlie had thought—"Didn't anyone tell you what happened to Papa?"

"He was shot in the head by a spring-gun, like Jamie," Charlie explained patiently.

Nev took a deep breath and shook his head. "No. That is—he was shot in the head, but not by a spring-gun." How was he supposed to deal with this? To buy himself time, he rang for a servant and asked them to find Penelope and tell her everything was fine. Then he sat down cross-legged on the floor. "Papa was in a duel. Do you know what a duel is?"

"Of course. It's when someone insults your honor, and you say, 'Name your friends,' and then your friend and his friend talk about it and pick a time, and you go very early in the morning with dueling pistols and shoot at each other."

It made Nev a little nervous that his brother knew so much about it. Nev had been on the verge of a duel several times when he was in university, though it had always come to nothing in the end; the thought of his brother doing the same thing was terrifying. "Exactly," he said, trying to sound calm. "They are very foolish and dangerous. Well, Papa was playing cards with some men, and he insulted one of them. So the man insulted him back, and Papa asked the man to name his friends. And the man shot him. It wasn't a spring-gun at all. There aren't any spring-guns at Loweston."

"But I hear them," Charlie said uncertainly. "At night."

Nev swore under his breath. How could he make Charlie feel safe when the world wasn't safe? "Those are poachers. They are dangerous, but they only go hunting at night. If you don't go into the woods alone after dark, they won't hurt you."

Charlie just stared at him.

"Here, will you come out of the cabinet and sit with me?"

Charlie climbed silently out of the cabinet and sat on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs.

"The world is scary sometimes," Nev said. "But if we are careful, we'll be safe. I'm working to make Loweston safer. I won't let anything hurt you."

It felt like a lie, but Charlie nodded and brightened a little.

"Do you want to learn how to do that trick Percy was doing?" Nev said.

"Which one?"

Nev reached over and pulled his seal ring from behind Charlie's ear. "That one."

"You know it too!"

"Percy and I learned it together. We learned it from one of the gypsies who used to live on the commons before they were enclosed. Here, it's very simple..."

Charlie still didn't want to walk back to the Dower House in the dark, so Nev sent a groom to tell Lady Bedlow that Louisa and Charlie would be spending the night at the Grange. Then he had to find Louisa and Percy. It was easier than he had expected; they had given up looking and thought that perhaps Charlie would return to the steward's room, so when he returned to the office, there they were, talking in hushed, anxious tones. Louisa's hair was a mess; she had thought Charlie might be hiding, too, and had evidently looked under half the end-tables and sofas in the house.

By the time his brother and sister were settled in adjoining rooms, Nev was exhausted. He didn't feel up to facing Penelope. There was no light coming in from under the connecting door anyway; she had probably gone to sleep. He let his valet pull off his boots, then sent him away, took off his jacket and cravat, and fell into bed with the rest of his clothes still on.

He awoke late the next morning, still feeling guilty. He knocked on Penelope's door, although he knew she was probably already downstairs with Percy.

"Come in," she called.

She was sitting on the edge of her bed, reading a letter. She looked up at him when he opened the door. "Good morning. Did you sleep all right?"

He nodded. "Did you?"

She said she had, but Nev, looking closer, wasn't sure. He sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. Abruptly she rushed into speech. "I know I shouldn't have let Mr. Garrett teach Charlie piquet. But he explained very carefully first that Charlie must never play on tick, and that he must decide in advance how much he can afford to lose and stick to it, and all sorts of other advice that sounded very good, and I thought there was no harm in it. I see now—" She was knotting her fingers together in her lap.

Nev reached over and took one of her hands, feeling worse than before. For a moment, he was at a loss for words. "Penelope," he interrupted her. "I shouldn't have got so angry. Percy was right; someone will teach him sooner or later. I—" He looked at her worried face and thought about how lonely he'd felt, all that week, and tried to tell her the truth. "I think I was angry because—I don't know how to run an estate, or be the head of a family. And Percy seemed to be doing a better job of it than I, just then. And—and Charlie—" His throat closed.

"You're afraid for Charlie," she finished.

He nodded.

She pressed her lips together, obviously trying to think of a tactful way to say something.

"What?" he asked.

"You're afraid he'll turn out like you. And you're afraid that you'll turn out like your father."

He nodded.

"Do you really think there's much chance of that?"

"I don't know," he said. "I know I could never do what you and Percy do. I get restless, trying to read and make plans and manage money. I—"

DELETED SCENE #3
Original ending.

This was my original ending. Leah, my editor, asked me to change it because it wasn't fair that the poachers had to leave their homes. She was right, of course, and I think the new ending is much better. But pranks are always fun. (In this version, Amy did convince Edward that Penelope was in danger, so he witnessed the scene where Nev offers to free the prisoners if the poachers will help him save Penelope from Sir Jasper.)

The brilliant thing about the prank was that it was actually only a two-man prank, although it seemed like you would need three. But Nev brought both Thirkell and Percy into it just to be safe, and because running a prank like this without either of them would have been unthinkable. And then Percy pointed out that they really needed Louisa to be the second man, and Nev realized that Penelope's inability to lie was key.

Of course, that meant they could all five of them be ruined if this didn't come off just perfectly. He had thought about not doing it; about telling them all, I'm sorry, I've thought it over, it's madness. But he had only thought that for a few seconds, and not seriously; Nev knew now that you could be reckless or you could be circumspect or anything in between, so long as you kept your promises and protected the people who belonged to you, whether they were your laborers or your wife. And that, he would do.

There was a part of him, too, that was looking forward to this.

He left Thirkell and Percy waiting some distance away, and walked with Louisa into the Greygloss gaol.

"Hello, Dawkins," he said cheerily to the gaoler, pulling a bottle out of the basket on his arm and waving it at him. "Miss Ambrey wanted to speak to Josie. We've freshly bottled last winter's apple brandy, and I thought you might like a taste!"

"That's very kind of you, my lord," Dawkins said, and opened to door to the cells for Louisa before settling down with Nev for some cider. Nev's mind was only half on the excellent cider and his conversation with Dawkins, but fortunately Louisa didn't make him wait long. Her scream was positively bloodcurdling.

Nev sprang to his feet and raced to the cells, Dawkins close behind him. When they got there, they found Louisa backed into the corner, shaken and staring at the window. Nev relaxed. "You look all right, Louisa," he said. "Was it a spider?"

"No!" she insisted. "I saw someone at the window, I swear I did!"

Of course, Dawkins's inspection of the outside of the gaol showed no signs of life. "I know all our nerves are on edge," he told a chastened Louisa, "but you ought to be more careful before making wild claims like that."

"I'm sorry, sir," Louisa said meekly. "It won't happen again."

Nev and Dawkins returned to their bottle. This was the tricky part. Nev waited until their glasses were nearly empty, and there was only enough cider in the bottle for one more glass each. Then he picked up the bottle to pour the last of it, but instead set it down by his chair, pretending to get distracted by the bawdy anecdote he was telling. When Caleb had taught him and Percy sleight of hand, the gypsy had emphasized that technical skill was only part; misdirection was everything.

Nev leaned forward and gestured extravagantly with his right hand as he got to the punchline, and when Dawkins was roaring with laughter he tipped the laudanum into the bottle with his left. Then he poured out the drugged cider into his and Dawkins' glasses. "To Mrs. Dawkins," he said, and raised his glass. Dawkins toasted, and they both downed their drinks.

"Did that taste odd to you?" Dawkins asked.

"Did it?" Nev asked, pretending to inspect his glass. "Perhaps there is something wrong with the vintage. That would be a shame, indeed."

That was the last thing he remembered before being shaken awake by Penelope. "Nev!" she was saying urgently, over and over. Macaulay was standing next to her.

Nev smiled up at her. "Love you."

"I love you too, Nev," she said. Macaulay's face twisted. "Wake up!"

He was not really awake, he knew that. It would take the laudanum a while to work out of his system. He glanced around for the empty vial and saw to his relief that it had been removed. "Wha's happening?" he slurred.

"Louisa said you and Constable Dawkins had passed out from drink," Penelope said, "but I did not believe that for a moment. I am afraid you have been drugged; the prisoners are gone."

"Gone?"

She nodded, sinking to the floor beside his chair. "But I don't care for that; I'm only glad they didn't poison you."

She looked so distraught that Nev was not sure how he could keep up the pretense.

Evidently Louisa noticed his hesitation, because she burst out, "This is all my fault! If I hadn't screamed and taken you from the table, they would never have been able to drug your drinks! Oh, Nev, I'm so sorry!"

"It's not your fault," Dawkins said, rubbing his head. "I should have looked more carefully. It would seem you were right about folks lurking about. What time is it?"

Penelope told them. It was two hours at least since they had fallen asleep; surely Percy and Thirkell would have the freed men and their families out of town by now.

"I'm sorry," Louisa said again. "I met Mr. Garrett on the way home and stopped to speak with him." Nev swore she blushed.

Dawkins looked equal parts knowing and furious. "I'll try to round up some men and search for them, but unless they've simply gone home we're unlikely to find them." He stood up, blinking his eyes.

"You can't," Macaulay said. "You've been dosed with laudanum. You'll do no one any good if you take a fall from your horse. We'll send out men from the Grange."

In the carriage, Macaulay burst out, "You reckless fool! Do you realize the risk you took? What if he had realized?"

"What on earth are you going on about?" Louisa began gamely, but it was too late. Penelope had tumbled to it.

"Oh, Nev, you didn't!" she said. "You frightened me half to death! And what if—"

"Of course he did," Macaulay snapped. "He promised them he would free those men, if they went into the forest with him. But I never dreamed he meant anything like this!"

"Oh, Nev, you didn't." But she said it softly and her eyes were bright.

"Of course I did."

"You reckless fool," she said, and kissed him right there in front of everyone.