Once Laura was gone, Neil put his quill down and leaned thoughtfully back in his chair with his hands behind his head.

Then Laura had been unfaithful to Maidstone. Neil had wondered about it. He knew that gossip had a way of running away with the truth, and he hadn't really believed the rumours, until now.

It wasn't really that, however, which disturbed him. It was the cold, cruel way she had dismissed Percival — that, he thought, was the Laura he knew. That, he thought, was the woman Richard had married.

His heart sank. As much as he distrusted Laura, part of him had been relieved to find that Richard seemed happy with her. But no woman who had seduced a man in order to get revenge on her husband could ever make a good wife. No woman who then confessed to it, in that hateful, almost gleeful tone.

What to do now?

Neil hesitated at the thought of telling Richard what he had heard. For one thing, Richard would hate Neil for doing so. But more importantly, it would cast a shadow over Richard's happiness, perhaps even destroy his marriage. And what did he have to say anyway? That Laura had been unfaithful to another man — a man who had treated her ill?

Would she be unfaithful to Richard?

He considered it slowly and carefully. To Richard, she was affectionate, attentive, and gentle. There was no pretence in her behaviour either, no attempt to charm. She was fond of Richard, perhaps even loved him.

But would that keep him safe?

For an hour or more, Neil lingered in the front room thinking about it. Ideas came and went; the idea of talking to Laura about it, however, never occurred to him. In the end, he decided there was only one thing to do: keep his eyes open, and his mouth shut.

For the rest of the day, he remained in the house, but Laura had no more callers and stayed in her room until early evening. When she came down, she was already dressed for dinner and the ball they were going to afterwards, in an ill-fitting dark blue gown that made her look rather wan.

"Is Richard not back?" she asked.

"Not yet," Neil said.

She passed the time with him then, picking away at a song on the piano and looking at the clock every five minutes. At eight, they went down to dinner alone. She said that Richard wasn't normally late and Neil said he expected he would be here soon. He was not, and Laura spent most of the meal fiddling with her fork or looking anxiously at the clock. As they started dessert, a footman came with a note saying that Richard was delayed and would meet them at Lady Roynor's ball later that night. Laura's face fell.

"Something wrong?" Neil asked quietly.

"I don't feel like going to the ball," was all Laura said.

"You don't have to go."

She shook her head. "It's important for Richard to be on her good side."

It was a long drive out to Lady Roynor's mansion in Wimbledon, and Laura was silent the entire way. Neil watched her from his side of the coach and tried to puzzle it out. If he said nothing about what he had learned today, Richard might be unguarded against hurt in the future. On the other hand, if he told Richard, he might destroy Richard's present happiness. There was no safe choice.

When they arrived, the ball was already in full swing. They were greeted by Lady Roynor, who told them that Richard had not yet arrived. They went to the salon, where Neil got Laura a glass of champagne, which she fiddled with rather than drank. After a few minutes, the current dance ended, and a fat and bumbling Lord Somebody came up and asked Laura for the next. She winced but agreed, pressing her untouched glass of champagne into Neil's hand as she left. He drank it as he watched the dance.

Laura was not as good a dancer as Neil remembered. She seemed to be stepping on her partner's toes at least as often as he stepped on hers. When the dance ended twenty minutes later, she sank into a chair by the wall. Neil let his eyes drift around the room. He wouldn't have minded dancing himself — not with Laura. With someone whose conversation he might enjoy.

Lady Harriet was standing over by the wall, looking over-rouged and over-hopeful. Neil's gaze slid onwards. Miss Dalrymple was by the refreshments table, munching on nuts with a glass of champagne in one hand. Her reticule looked empty yet. Further on, a group of three very pretty young girls were lingering rather hintingly on the edge of the dance floor. Neil wondered about asking one of them to dance — but they were young, and obviously out to catch a husband. A married woman would be best. Someone who knew he wasn't flirting and wasn't too inclined to think he was handsome.

His eyes slid back to Laura before he could stop himself. But he was too late anyway; a young man was bending over her, smiling warmly. She was smiling back, but shaking her head. The music started up again. As it did, the young man sat down in the chair next to Laura. They held a conversation, leaning into each other rather, perhaps because the music was so loud. Then the young man rose from his chair, helped Laura to her feet, and left the room with her on his arm.

Neil cast a glance around to see if anyone else had been watching them, and found that even Miss Dalrymple's beady eye was occupied with the dance. He waited a moment and then slipped through the nearest door. The hall was well lit, and small groups of people still lingered in it, talking or greeting friends. Neil couldn't see Laura or the man who had been with her. He went through an open door and found himself in the card room, but Laura wasn't there either, nor her mysterious friend. Beyond that was the billiards room full of men, beyond that an empty library, and then he found himself back in the front hall again. He hesitated a moment and then went up one side of the grand double staircase. On the mezzanine above, he at last heard a feminine voice echoing faintly from down a dark hallway. He followed it. Soon, a slit of light through a doorway told him where to go. He went softly closer then paused, looking through the crack of the door. Laura was sitting up on a tall, heavily draped bed, her knees up close against her chest, her elbows resting on them, her face in her hands. The young man was standing beside the bed, rubbing her shoulder. Neil put his hand on the door to fling it open, then stopped.

There was something about Laura's posture — something pained, something stiff. Nor did the man look lover-like. Indeed, if anything, he looked as though he was repressing irritation behind his frown. And there was a strange, unpleasant, sour smell in the air — Neil recognized it as vomit, and then saw too the porcelain basin sitting on the chair near the bed.

"Oh here it is!" said somebody else, and Lady Roynor came into Neil's line of sight, holding a small glinting bottle out to Laura. "My salts, Doctor Cavendish, don't you think?"

She wafted the bottle in front of Laura, who gagged and pushed it away.

"Not smelling salts!" the doctor said sharply. "Just let her catch her breath. Is her husband here yet?"

Lady Roynor extracted the vinaigrette reluctantly. "Probably. It's beyond fashionably late now. I'll go and ask the butler."

She was heading straight for the door. Neil realized she would see him — and that she would know exactly why he was standing there in the dark. He opened the door wide and walked into the room, as though he'd just come down the hall to do so. Lady Roynor stopped in her tracks.

"Laura?" Neil said.

She looked up, pale and wobbly. Neil felt suddenly disgusted with himself. He'd believed the worst of her, leapt from suspicion to conclusion, and here she was, sick, and in the company of Richard's doctor and a duchess.

He came forward and touched her forehead, finding it cool. Then he turned to the doctor, who close up was not so young after all, perhaps forty. "What's wrong with her?"

"Well it's not a fever," Doctor Cavendish said in a carefully blank tone. "Why don't you sit here with her, while I go see if Lord Albroke has arrived? He really ought to take her home."

Laura shook her head. "It's important for Richard to be here."

"Then I'll take you home myself and he can stay," Neil said.

Lady Roynor, who had stopped on her way to the door when Neil came in, hovered closer. "She shouldn't travel, in her condition — let her stay here tonight."

"I just need to lie down for a little bit," Laura said weakly.

"Lie down for a while, and then we'll see how you feel," Cavendish said. "I'm going to see if Lord Albroke can be found."

He left the room. Lady Roynor stayed behind, watching them. Neil looked uncomfortably at her.

"I'll look after her now," he said. "You can go back to your ball."

"I know you'll look after her." Lady Roynor's eyes narrowed as she smiled. "But I was wondering how you felt about it — no green eyes for the coronet, I see?"

Neil wondered at first what she meant, and when he understood, was irritated. "Your Grace," he said, as mildly as he could, "I'm only concerned for my sister." He looked at Laura, who now had both hands over her mouth. "I really think you'd best leave us alone," Neil added, reaching for the basin.

Lady Roynor left rather hurriedly then. Neil held the basin while Laura was sick into it, then when she was done found her a handkerchief to wipe her face.

"All out?" he asked.

She nodded weakly, seeming embarrassed, but Neil didn't think he should leave her. He put the basin back on the chair and went and poured a glass of water for her. She took it with shaking hands and sipped gingerly.

"I'm sorry," she said, as he took it back from her.

"It's not your fault. Now is there anything you need?"

She shook her head and leaned back on the pillows with her eyes shut.

"If Richard doesn't arrive soon, I'll take you home myself," he said. "As soon as you feel up to it."

"Thank you." She gave a shaky laugh, her eyes still shut. "I didn't peg you for a nursemaid."

"I've got two small children," he said. And that was true, but he knew very well it was guilt that kept him in the room, with the smell of sour vomit rising from the basin beside him. He had been very unfair to Laura earlier — he had not seen that she was ill, though he'd the whole evening to notice, and had suspected the worst of her from a mere conversation.

"I wish you'd told me before we came how you felt," he grumbled. "I saw you were pale — didn't think to ask why."

She shrugged faintly.

"And Richard's going to be very upset."

"I'll be fine."

"That's not what I mean. Lady Roynor thinks you're with child."

Laura's eyes flew open.

"She's probably downstairs now telling all her twittering little friends about it. And Richard..." Neil sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "It won't be easy for him, hearing that gossip."

"N-no," Laura said, in a very odd voice. "It w-won't."

Neil looked at her. Where before her cheeks had been pale, there was now a blotchy flush to them. She seemed to be trying not to look at him. A strange, dizzy feeling came over Neil. He remembered the doctor's curiously blank tone as he had said it was not a fever. Remembered too that the day he had arrived in London, she had been hovering her hand over her stomach in the same way she was now.

"Oh," he said flatly. "But. You are. With child?"

Laura slowly met his eyes and then gave an almost imperceptible nod. Neil took a deep breath, bracing himself.

"Does Richard know?"

"...I haven't told him yet."

"Is it his?"

She slapped him. Her hands were still trembling, but her slap had anger behind it and stung. Neil gasped and bent over, clutching his cheek. When he looked up again, she was breathing hard, her breast heaving, as though she was about to cry.

And Richard was standing in the doorway behind her, looking bewildered.