This was a dream; it was not happening. I am much too sensible for this. I will open my eyes and find myself in a small chamber at a posting inn with Leora and Andre, she told herself. Letting out a deep breath, she slowly opened her eyes.

It was futile. The earl was still abed with her.

Cautiously, she pried back the many coverlets and stretched her feet to the floor. "Brrrrr." She quickly drew them up but then planted them down firmly once more. The cold was not to be escaped and she must get out of this bed.

Spying her wrap lying across the end of the bed, she quickly pulled it on and wrapped the shawl that she found under it around her. When she spied her slippers, she scooped them up and tugged then on.

Much better, Juliane thought. Now what do I do? She tentatively approached the bed.

"Obviously Meg thinks we are married, my lord," she said softly to the unconscious figure. "To undo that contention would do me more harm than good, at the moment-or ever unfortunately. If you will remain unconscious, my lord, you will find me a most dutiful wife." She bobbed a deft curtsy.

Turning her back on the bed, Juliane went to warm her hands before the meagre fire. What to do? Lord.

No sense in being missish about this. Must keep my head clear. Yes. Must find out where we are before I make any decisions.

She looked around. This did not have the look of a posting inn-even a modest one-and Meg did not talk as one accustomed to dealing with the "Quality." They must have somehow stumbled onto a farmer's cottage.

This must be Meg and her ... this must be their room, she thought, as she took in the smallishwardrobe and scarred but clean washstand.

"Ah, m'lady," Meg growled as she bustled back into the bedchamber. "I says to Jove as he was leavin' the house, 'she'll be up and about when I get back' and here ye are. Come, sit here and eat. How ye be "I am ... I am fine, thank you. I would like to see the children. How is Mallatt?"

"One thing at a time. Ye eat this," she said, sticking the bowl of porridge beneath Juliane's nose. "Then we be gettin' to the others."

Juliane thought if she closed her eyes tight enough, she would have little trouble believing she was a child back in the nursery. No one had ordered her about since that time in her life. She sighed and took the bowl. Meg was of an age to be her mother, she guessed. Kind and motherly despite her rough ways.

Right at this moment, Juliane decided, she could use a little mothering.

While Lady Juliane ate, Meg tossed more wood on the fire. "We wouldn't want yer lord any more grumpy than need be," she laughed over her shoulder. "Ye'll be glad to be knowin' the snow has stopped. Me lads think it will be a fine day. In a day or two they'll be able to ferret out yer coach."

Juliane dropped her spoon. In a day or two? The delay in time had not occurred to her.

"Now, see," grumbled Meg kindly, "I knew ye be gettin' up too soon." She handed Juliane the spoon, wiping it first on the ap.r.o.n that covered her ample bosom.

"No. I am fine. I must see the children," stuttered Juliane as she tried to cover her consternation.

"How be it ye be travellin' without a nurse or nanny and a maid? Yer lord looks plump enough in the pocket for that," questioned Meg.

Juliane couldn't believe it when she heard herself twitter. "That is my doing, I am afraid. We are travelling to Lord Tretain's estates and wished for privacy." Heat rose across her cheeks. "Besides, there are those at the estate to do those duties," she added in a hurried afterthought.

What questions would arise when the phaeton was found?

Meg cackled. "I think ye'd be havin' more privacy with a nurse along, but then one never knows."

Juliane lowered her head over her bowl and ate fiercely to hide her features which she knew must be crimson.

"I'll be back in a moment with yer gown. It needed dryin' and pressin'," Meg smiled from the doorway.

"Tsk, tsk," she said to herself as she wagged down the stairs. "One would think the girl a newlywed, or perhaps m'lord was getting' too cosy with the nurse.

"Oh, the gentry. But the girl does seem a good sort," Meg reasoned. She's concerned about the children and all-not like some we hear of.

Mallatt swung his feet off the narrow cot and looked around the room. Ah, yes, he had been placed in with the farmer's sons. He shook his head. He could not recall their names nor the farmer's. Neither could he recall the past night's events.

Thank G.o.d we stumbled in here. We'd be frozen solid by now. He looked around and spied his neatly folded clothing. Wonder what they did with Lord Adrian? he mused. Must check on him. And yes, that Lady Juliane and the two children. I'd best be looking in on them all.

The sons' room was on the lower level of the farm cottage. Mallatt had little trouble finding the kitchen,

which seemed to take up most of that floor.

"And good morn to ye," Meg greeted him as he cautiously entered. "Ye don't look like ye've taken a chill."

"Of course not, my good woman. But I fear Lady Juliane and the wee tykes were not dressed for such an outing. How do they fare?"

"Don't ye go 'good womanin' me. M'name be Meg," she chided him.

"And I am Mallatt," he bowed stiffly. "Lord Tretain's valet."

"A real valet, ye don't say now," chuckled Meg.

"Pardon, ma'am," Mallatt chose his words carefully. "Lady Juliane and the children-are they well?

What of my lord? He was injured in the accident."

"Tsk, tsk. I shouldn't keep ye worryin' now, should I? Sit down. A steamin' mug of m'Jove's brew will do wonders for yer spirits."

Mallatt dubiously eyed the concoction that was presently set before him still bubbling.

Meg stood before him, hands on hips. "Now ye drink it."

Deciding she outweighed him by several stone, he prudently lifted the mug to his lips and sipped. Good.

Deeming it safe, swallowed a generous amount.

"Now, Meg, about..."

"Aye, stay in yer breeches. They all be fine. Lady Juliane, ye called her, be as good as new, and the boy child-" she eyed him expectantly.

"Master Andre."

"Andre-that's a foreign-soundin' one. Frog ain't it?" Meg shrugged aside any forthcoming answer. "He

be fine enough." She shook her head.

"Yer lord could well take a fever with that head wound and bein' in the cold so long. The babe, though, be a greater worry." Meg stepped to the cradle beside the fire and bent to draw the covers more firmly

about the babe. "She sleeps fitfully and has gotten a cough. I'd say a hard time t'wilt be hers. What say ye her name be?"

"Mistress Leora."

"Ah, a pretty name for a pretty babe. It be sad if she take it to the grave so early-but many do this day." She clucked her tongue.

"Yer master should kno' better'n to gad about with his family in sech weather," she said angrily.

Mallatt choked on a swallow of brew. "Family," he sputtered weakly.

"Him with a fine strong woman and them with two children-he shouldna' take chances with them."

Her back was to the rough table, so Meg did not see the look of puzzlement, consternation, and worry

play on Mallatt's features.

Had Lady Juliane given this woman the idea they were all of a party? But no, he was certain she was in no state to talk when they arrived and Lord Adrian certainly-Lord Adrian?

"Has my lord regained consciousness yet?"

"Nay, he be sleepin' like a babe yet. Yer mistress can tell ye more. My Alva just took her gown to her

and I reckon she'll be down in a trice to check on the babe. Seems that's all she has on her mind."

Mallatt nodded, silent. He was certain Lady Juliane would have that on her mind and more when she learned Meg thought her wed to Lord Tretain.

It was her fault for insisting on coming along. Mallatt sighed. Things would begin a-popping when his