Twenty-three.

Arielle brought George Curlew, the earl's steward, and Dr. Brody with her to visit Lily in her bedchamber the following morning for a cup of tea.

"I thought you would like to see a face that wasn't mine for a change," Arielle said.

Lily nodded and sipped at the tea. "This is so good."

"Would you like a bit of laudanum?" Dr. Brody asked.

Lily shook her head. The pain was deep and it was steady, but she didn't want to see her guests through a haze. "Not just yet, thank you."

Arielle chatted with profound determination, all the while keeping one eye on Lily, who was quiet, too quiet. Even though she was still confined to her bed, Arielle had brushed her hair and arranged a lovely pale blue silk peignoir around her shoulders. She saw that George Curlew and Michael Brody were looking at Lily with new eyes, and very masculine eyes at that, and paying her endless compliments. Arielle grinned to herself. If they'd looked at her like that during the past summer, or told her even once that her gown was lovely, she would have been terrified and probably fled the vicinity.

But Lily was beautiful, Arielle remarked without a spark of envy. It was something beyond just the excellent complementing of her features; it was something more, something glowing and soft and brilliant. Arielle had more than a sneaking suspicion that Knight Winthrop was responsible. She looked over to see how Lily was taking this abundance of male appreciation.

Lily didn't even notice. Arielle was concerned that Lily's shoulder was hurting her more than she was letting on, but Michael hadn't said anything, so she held her peace. Once Lily had crumbled her second scone, Arielle said with just a hint of a smile, "Lily, I must now assume you're thinking about Knight, and worrying. Well, you know very well that Burke and Knight were soldiers and officers. They're both quite resourceful, intelligent-"

"They're idiots."

"Yes, well, they're men, so that is also true."

"I will kill Knight."

"He'll doubtless be gratified that you've worried about him. Now stop your dithering. It can't be good for your recovery."

"Did you say two Frenchwomen?"

"They were spies, Lily, French spies. Not really women, but enemies."

"Hah. How long was he alone with them in those hot, arid hills of Portugal?"

"Not long at all. Not more than a fortnight, or perhaps it was three weeks. I don't remember. It's not important. It was an assignment, a very difficult one, but just another assignment."

"I believe," George Curlew said, anxious to provide information to this exquisite confection of womanhood, "that Lord Castlerosse was alone with the spies only for a sennight. Then, my lady," he added, turning to Arielle, "I think the earl joined him and the two of them brought the French spies to the English command near Oporto, I believe it was."

Arielle turned on the hapless steward. "You're telling me that Burke was also escorting those wretched women?"

"Now, Arielle," Lily said, "they were spies, enemies. It was just another assignment, difficult no doubt, but just another assignment."

"I'll kill him." Arielle's hair looked fiery red at that moment, not at all a soft titian. "More tea, Michael?"

Lily laughed at Dr. Brody's alarmed expression, then moaned from the jab of pain in her shoulder.

The doctor rose immediately and came to her. "I must leave soon, my lady. A local woman is in labor and I need to lend a hand. May I examine you now?"

How odd that title still sounded. Lily nodded. Arielle and Mr. Curlew left the bedchamber. Dr. Brody was all efficiency as he bared the wound. "It hurts dreadfully?"

"Yes, but for the most part I can control it. It is just times when, for example, I laugh that I pay a high price."

Dr. Brody helped her onto her side and eased her gown down to look at her back.

He straightened, finally done, and smiled at her. "You are the most remarkable patient I've ever had. You've no sign of fever or poisoning of the blood, and the wound is pink and healthy. Still, my lady, you must rest and do nothing at all strenuous until further notice from me. By strenuous I mean doing more than lifting your own teacup. If you continue at this phenomenal rate, I'll remove the stitches from your back next Tuesday or Wednesday. Then-" He shrugged, smiling.

"I'll be dancing at a ball," Lily said. "And then to Venice. After, that is," she added, her eyes slitting, "I've murdered my husband." But she was soon thinking about Monk, wondering if Theo and Sam and Laura Beth were in any danger, and trying to convince herself that Burke and Knight could well handle any attempt on Monk's part to hurt the children, or them, for that matter.

They should all be arriving tonight.

She missed them dreadfully. She wondered how they'd greeted their steppapa.

The pain worsened late in the morning, and Lily took some laudanum willingly. She slept throughout the remainder of the day. Arielle ate her dinner with Lily in the bedchamber, both ladies keeping an ear trained for the sounds of a carriage arriving at Ravensworth. Nary a sound of anything.

Nor did they arrive the following day.

"Stop fidgeting, Arielle," Lily finally said to her new friend as she watched her pace back and forth across the bedchamber, stopping every few minutes to twitch the heavy draperies aside to look outside.

"I just don't like it. That miserable philanderer could be in trouble."

"They were spies, Arielle, enemies." Lily giggled.

"It's snowing again," Arielle said. "How can they travel in this weather? Didn't you say Sam's leg was hurt? However will they manage?"

Lily didn't know. To think about it made her head hurt nearly as much as her shoulder.

Late that afternoon Lily fell into a light sleep. Her dreams weren't pleasant. Monk was chasing her and Knight through narrow canals filled with brackish water. They were riding in long, narrow boats that Knight called gondolas. Suddenly the gondola tipped from a vicious shove from Monk's oar. Lily felt the black water close over her head, heard Knight yelling frantically for her. She moaned and jerked awake.

She wasn't alone. She was staring up into Monk's very real and very mean face. One huge hand was clamped tightly over her mouth. Before she could react, he stuffed a dirty handkerchief into her mouth and quickly tied another over it and knotted it tightly behind her head.

He wasn't supposed to be here, she thought blankly. He was supposed to be at Castle Rosse.

He looked very pleased with himself. "Ye're alive and now I've got ye. Why are ye in bed?"

Lily could only stare at him.

Monk shook his head, grabbed her hand, and pulled her upright. Lily swallowed a cry of pain. Monk frowned and jerked open the bodice of her nightgown, paying no attention to the scattering buttons. He saw the bandage.

"So Boy did make that bullet fly 'ome, jest the wrong one. I weren't sure about that. 'Ow bad is it?"

She could only shake her head. This time Monk pulled the gag from her mouth. "My shoulder," Lily whispered. "Please, it hurts."

Monk cursed loud and long. "I don't want to kill ye yet," he said. "Damnation, 'is lordship won't give me the sparklers if ye're dead. Oh, damn and blast. If I carts ye out of 'ere, ye'll bleed to death on me, won't ye? Jest to spite me, I'll wager."

Lily thought that would probably be the outcome, but she didn't say that spite would have nothing to do with her probable demise. Her shoulder throbbed, making her close her eyes against the pain. She heard Monk curse again.

"Well, I ain't got no choice."

He lifted her over his shoulder, not bothering to tie her hands and ankles, for he knew she didn't have the strength to fight him. "Ye jest 'old still and ye won't bleed, leastways I 'opes not." He cursed again. "It's cold out there, wot with the snow and all. I'll 'ave to wrap ye up." Monk grabbed two blankets off the bed and threw them over Lily, then continued to the wide bow windows that faced the eastern lawn.

He was on the point of climbing out when suddenly he came face-to-face with a man he'd never seen before, a man whose face was remarkably like a monkey's and who looked at once completely taken aback and chagrined.

The man shouted right in Monk's face: "'Old there, you blighter! I've got you now! Drop the lady and throw out your popper!"

Monk jumped back from the window. "Who the 'ell are ye?"

"Ollie Trunk's me name and I'm the law. I'm taking you to London to 'ang for murder. Careful now, you put the lady down real careful."

"I'll see you in 'ell," Monk shouted and smashed his fist into the man's face. Lily heard the scream, knew her would-be savior had lost his grip and fallen to the frozen ground. She heard running footsteps, shouts, and the lower rumble of frantic speech.

Monk stood undecided for a moment by the window. He looked outside, saw a half-dozen men milling about, saw the little monkey-faced man rise and dust himself off. "I don't understand," he said, more to himself than to Lily. He seemed to realize that he was still holding her over his shoulder. He carried her back to the bed and laid her back down, automatically covering her up. Pain pulsed through her.

"Everyone was supposed to be at Castle Rosse-the earl wot owns this pile, yer 'usband, the nippers, Lord knows, everyone. That's why I came 'ere. I ask ye, 'ow'd that Runner get 'ere so fast anyways? It don't make no sense, no, it don't."

Lily didn't care about any sense. She wanted, quite simply, to die.

"'Ere, now, wot's wrong? Yer shoulder?" He leaned over and shook her. Lily moaned. "Don't ye dare stick yer spoon in it. I need ye! Ye're me 'ostage. Oh, 'ellfire."

But Lily did stick her spoon in it. She didn't know how long she was unconscious, but it seemed a very short time. She heard pounding. It seemed to come from a great distance away. More pounding, and then Knight's wonderful voice.

"Open the door, Monk. Now. You hurt my wife and I'll carve you into small pieces."

"Wot's 'e doing 'ere?" Monk raised his voice, bellowing, "I've got yer wife! Ye keep up yer blathering and I'll make 'er mighty uncomfortable!"

There came the low hum of conversation, then Burke Drummond's voice. "Listen, Monk. I'm the Earl of Ravensworth. You let the lady go and I'll give you the jewels."

"Billy's Baubles? Ye've got 'em?"

"Not those particular jewels, but heirlooms in my family for hundreds of years. That or money. Whatever you wish. And you'll leave here a free man."

"No, my lord. Ye can't do that. That bloke's a criminal, and I've gots to take 'im to Lunnon." It was the monkey-faced man's voice; Lily recognized it.

In the corridor outside the bedchamber, Knight grabbed Ollie Trunk by his shirt collar and lifted him off the floor. "Shut your mouth, you damned idiot. The man's a murderer all right. And he just might kill my wife."

Ollie shut up. "I ain't ever been in no situation like this afore," he said, straightening his collar. "I don't want the lady dead, but ye can't jest let that Monk fellow fly off hide-free."

"We've no intention of that, Ollie," Burke said, and motioned the man to silence.

Knight pressed against the bedchamber door. "Lily," he called out.

Monk looked toward the door and drew out his pistol. To Lily he said, "Ye don't try nothin' and we'll get along jest fine. Answer the man, it won't matter none."

"Knight? I'm fine, truly." But her voice broke. Oh, please, God, she prayed, don't let him do anything foolish.

"I wants the sparklers," Monk shouted. "I want wot's mine and Boy's."

Knight drew a deep breath. The truth, he thought. Why not the truth, at least for now? "Listen, Monk. I told you the truth. We couldn't find the jewels. It stands to reason that they were never brought to England. It's true. I wouldn't lie to you, not with you holding my wife."

Oh, God. He'd kill her now. Lily felt light-headed. Her shoulder was ripping with pain and she wanted to writhe away from it, but she couldn't do anything save lie there and let the pain consume her.

Suddenly Monk was leaning over her. "Ye're awful white about the gills, but no matter. Jest don't die on me quite yet. Is 'e telling the truth? Ye didn't find the jewels? Ye tell me, or I'll find a way to kill 'is lordship, kill 'im real dead."

"Please, please, we couldn't find them. It's the truth."

"They wasn't in the stables at Castle Rosse?"

Lily shook her head, mute.

"I guessed as much. That's why I came 'ere and didn't follow yer 'usband back to Castle Rosse. Oh, no, I found out 'e'd been 'ere, at Ravensworth Abbey, and 'e was not with ye, so ye still 'ad to be 'ere. Ye was the key, I knew. Yer 'usband would do anything to 'ave ye back safe. But those damned sparklers. Damn that Tris. Damn 'im for a wily cove. If only Boy 'adn't stuck 'is sticker in 'is back. If only that watch 'adn't come along when 'e did." Monk cursed, railed, and looked about the large bedchamber. For what, Lily couldn't begin to guess. So Monk had followed them here, had watched Burke, then Knight, leave.

Everything was silent now. Very silent. She closed her eyes, wishing she had just a modicum of strength so she could overpower Monk. Do something to end the nightmare once and for all. But she couldn't even lift her hand. She felt warm stickiness and knew the shoulder wound was seeping blood. She wondered if she was going to die. She didn't want to die, not now, not now that she was happy.

Where were the children? Oh, God, what had Knight done with the children? They had to be safe. They simply had to be.

At least if she died, they had Knight. Lily felt tears sting her eyes. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to leave Knight or the children. She tasted a salty tear in her mouth.

"Monk."

It was Knight's voice.

"Let me come in now. I must see that my wife is all right. You can keep me for your hostage, but let her go."

"No!"

Lily didn't know where she found the strength to scream that single word. She lay back, panting, waiting, praying that Monk wouldn't let Knight into the room. "No." This time it was just a whisper.

"Awright," Monk called. "But no tricks, or yer little piece will meet 'er maker this minute."

"No," Lily said again, so quietly this time, she herself barely heard it. She saw Monk unlock the door, saw the door slowly open, saw Knight stride in. God, he looked wonderful, vigorous, strong. Monk aimed his pistol at him and told him to raise his arms. Knight did. Monk ran his hands over his body, then straightened, nodding. "Ye're clean," he said.

Knight looked at the man who'd been his nemesis for the past month. God, he wanted to kill the blighter. He immediately went to the bed. "Love," he said softly and sat down beside her. "It will be all right, Lily. Just hang on, love. Just hang on, please." He kissed her cheek. "Trust me, Lily," he said more softly.

"Yes," she whispered. "You're wonderful, Knight." He gave her a slow smile and she saw something else, something in his golden fox's eyes-determination, that was it. "Please take care." He nodded, then straightened, coming slowly to his feet.

Monk was standing like a towering giant in the middle of the room, his legs spread, the pistol in his right hand. "You've made our lives a misery for far too long, Monk," Knight said. "I'll give you the money the jewels would have brought you. I want you to leave. Now."

"I'll take 'er with me."

"No, you won't. She's far too weak. She'd only slow you down. If you did take her, I'd follow you. For as long as it took, I'd track you down and I'd kill you. Surely you'd rather live and spend all your groats."

"Ye killed Boy. I'll kill 'er. It's fair."

"Go away, Monk. Leave us be. You'll have all the money you could spend in two lifetimes."

Suddenly, without warning, there was a loud crashing noise from the window. Monk whirled about. Burke Drummond, a rope about his waist, bounded through the window into the room, rolled, then came up on his feet, a pistol at the ready. Lily heard a man shout from outside, "He's safe! I let him down and he made it!"