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how to thank you for...for taking me in and everything.”
    “It is no more than one neighbour owes to another. The best thanks will be to rest and recover quickly.”
    “I’ll try. Please tell your brother I’m very grateful for all his help.” She didn’t quite dare ask to see Lord Malcolm.
    “Certainly.” Slightly flushed, Lady Lilian said tentatively, “I don’t know how much you recall of Dr. Barley’s visit. Jenny faints at the sight of blood so I thought it best that Malcolm rather than any other servant should assist...You may be assured that he is a gentleman and has already put out of his mind any...any untoward circumstances.”
    Mariette’s cheeks felt a far brighter red than Lady Lilian’s. Her eyes lowered, she murmured, “Yes, ma’am.”
    “So you will not object to speaking to him? He still hopes you will remember something to identify the villain who shot you. The sooner the better, he says; later this evening if you feel well enough. It is hardly proper that he should visit you in your bedchamber, but I cannot dissuade him. Jenny or I will chaperon you, of course.”
    “If you think it unexceptionable, ma’am.”
    “Allowable, at least.” She turned down the lamp. “Will your dog come with me? Ragamuffin, dinner!”
    Ragamuffin sprang to his feet and pranced after her, tail waving.
    She left Mariette puzzled and apprehensive. Lord Malcolm knew perfectly well who had shot her. Why insist on questioning her about an imaginary poacher? Why had he invented a poacher in the first place?
    His servant was in no danger from the law for firing on a highwayman. Instead of dragging her off to the nearest magistrate, he had taken care of her and lied to his sister, who’d surely not have received her at Corycombe had she known the truth. Mariette had every reason to be grateful, but her gratitude was tinged with suspicion.
    Did Lord Malcolm want something from her in return, and if so, what? Recalling her bared bottom, she buried her hot face in her pillow. Surely that bloody sight had not inflamed his animal passions!
    But she knew nothing of men, except that they were lamentably self-centred. Experience and history taught the same lesson. Throughout the centuries, men had committed deeds both dire and heroic for the sake of honour, fame, power, riches; the comfort and happiness of others came as afterthoughts, if at all. Look at Edward III and the burghers of Calais. He’d have executed them without a qualm if the queen had not pleaded for their lives.
    Even Uncle George, who had given her a home and never refused any request, was too occupied with his sculpture to pay the least regard to whether she was content with her lot. Which she was, of course. What was the point of repining? Maman always said one must not demand the moon.
    Still, had Uncle George bothered to read the note Lady Lilian said she had sent? Did he miss her? Had he even noticed she wasn’t there?
    Ralph would be on tenterhooks, but only because he didn’t know whether she had retrieved his ring. Even Ragamuffin had abandoned her at a promise of food.
    By the time Mariette drifted into exhausted sleep, her pillowcase was damp from tears she was too weak to hold back.
    * * * *
    “And when you’ve finished your supper, miss, his lordship’d take it kindly if you’d spare him a word.”
    Restored by food and rest, Mariette felt more equal to facing her rescuer. “Thank you, Jenny. Please tell Lord Malcolm I’ll be ready to see him in half an hour.”
    “Beg pardon, miss, but if you’d like me to comb your hair first, it’ll be longer than half an hour. Seeing it’s in a shocking tangle and you with a great lump on your head I’ll have to watch out for.”
    Suddenly conscious that he had seen her not only indecently stripped but in a disgraceful state of dishevelment, Mariette said subduedly, “Yes, I’d like my hair combed if you don’t mind. Tell his lordship however long you think necessary.”
    Despite Jenny’s