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causing her brown face to crease into a network of tiny lines. “Although you are bonny. More so than most.”
    Bowing deeply, the marquis took her thin, heavily veined fingers to his lips. “You are a joy, Mrs. Forbes. May I present Juliana, Sophia’s niece.”
    Juliana had guessed that this woman could be none other than the redoubtable Mrs. Forbes. The vivid, dark brown eyes that surveyed her face were full of a lively intelligence. “Glad to meet you, young lady. I see my herb drink helped you.”
    “Very much! Thank you. I am most sorry for any inconvenience we have caused you.”
    “Nonsense,” replied Mrs. Forbes in a practical spirit. “Good to have you young people here. Sophia’s in the kitchen brewing up a sleeping draught now. Lord Liscombe is with her. That’s why I came out here looking for these.” She held out a palm full of garlic bulbs. “That young lord shows too many late nights and too many bottles of brandy. I have just the potion for him.”
    Juliana carefully controlled her face when Mrs. Forbes’s eyes flickered across it and then to Dominic, whose unholy grin was nearly her undoing.
    “Come along, both of you. Elixir must be brewed before you leave for London.” Mrs. Forbes shook her head with such vigor, her large bun of grizzled white hair jiggled precariously. “Terrible place the city. Terrible!”
    Was there ever a merrier look than the one the marquis flashed at her before bowing with a deep flourish and following Mrs. Forbes back into the kitchen.
    The inn’s kitchen was large. Fires blazed in enormous fireplaces at each end of the room, but the air was surprisingly fresh and cool, for a breeze worried the crisp curtains at huge windows on opposite walls. Rows of wooden shelves laden with jars of all sizes lined the stone walls and a long, polished oak table dominated the room. Aunt Sophia stood over a small black kettle slowly adding herbs to a boiling mixture while Freddie, coatless and with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, stirred with a long-handled wooden spoon.
    So intent were they on their duties that they didn’t notice Mrs. Forbes’s entrance until she went to the pot to carefully examine the contents. She sniffed the steam. “Ah, yes. More mandrake root. Juliana, fetch that small jar of brown powder on the low shelf next to the window. Here, my lord marquis, chop these leaves.”
    Juliana watched Dominic shrug out of his coat, paying earnest attention to Mrs. Forbes’s instruction of the precise method to chop herbs. Smiling, Juliana crossed toward the shelves. At the window she noticed white and red cloth balls hanging. She expected to find the scent of cloves and cinnamon, but moving closer discovered the balls scentless.
    Frowning, she carried the small jar back to the table. “That is odd, Mrs. Forbes, your pomanders have no scent.”
    “Not pomanders, young lady. It is my herb potion to keep out insects.”
    Brushing a droopy brown curl from her forehead, Aunt Sophia turned from her pot. “Ingenious! I noticed that the kitchen was free of such troublesome creatures.”
    “But the bags have no scent. What keeps them out?” Juliana asked, fascinated by odd-shaped roots and strangely colored powders and fluids placed neatly about the room.
    “Scentless to you, young lady. But not to insects. Works nearly as well as my potions to keep out field mice.”
    “I say, Mrs. Forbes, wherever did you learn about herbs and potions and the like?” Freddie asked, his face red and glowing from the heat, his neck cloth twisted under his left ear.
    Lifting her head to a proud tilt, Mrs. Forbes’s eyes touched them all one by one. “My grandmother was a Romany princess. She taught my mother and then me all the old ways.”
    “A gypsy princess! Did she teach you to read palms? Always wanted my palm read,” Freddie declared with a wide grin.
    “Palm reading is for gorgios at the fairs,” scoffed Mrs. Forbes. “To tell the future … yes … sometimes. My