Standing at the foot of the bed, her eyes fixed on Richard's face, she waited while Honoria and Devil greeted Worboys, who had been watching over his master. Then they joined her, one on either side, and looked down at Richard.

"He's still breathing freely and his pulse is steady, but he hasn't regained consciousness since he collapsed."

Catriona heard the tiredness in her voice, and felt, again, Devil's hand slide around hers. He squeezed her fingers gently, comfortingly. She felt Honoria's sympathetic gaze on her face, then sensed an exchanged glance pass over her head.

"I'll sit with him for the next few hours." Devil released her hand.

"Perhaps," Honoria said, "you could show me to our room?"

She didn't really want to leave Richard, but… Catriona gripped her fingers tightly and lifted her gaze to Devil's face. "If his breathing starts to slow, or grow weaker you must promise to call me immediately. It's important." Her eves locked on his, she reinforced that thought. "I might need to… " She gestured vaguely.

Devil nodded and looked at the bed. "I'll send Worboys or one of the others for you at the slightest sign. " Then he looked back, a slight smile curving his long lips. "But if he hasn't already died, the chances are he won't." His gaze drifted to Honoria, the look in his eyes deepened. "There are any number of people who can tell you that Cynsters lead charmed lives."

His comforting gaze came back to her face as Honoria humphed.

"Indeed! Believe me," she said gently turning Catriona from the bed, "there's little point worrying about them, although of course, we do." She steered Catriona to the door. "Now come and show me where I can wash-I've been in that carriage for more hours than I care to count."

Ten minutes later, sunk in an armchair in the room Mrs. Broom had readied for the ducal couple, Catriona knew that, far from taking care of her guests, her guests were taking care of her. She was too tired to resist, and they did it so well, so effortlessly. They made it so easy for her to just stop for a moment, to stop thinking and simply be. She needed the rest-so she took it, let the steady flow of Honoria's description of their trip north flow past her, and waited for her guest to finish her ablutions.

That done, as she'd expected, Honoria sank gracefully into the chair beside hers, leaned forward and took one of her hands. "Now tell me-why did you imagine we'd imagine you'd had any hand in poisoning Richard?"

Meeting Honoria's misty-blue gaze, Catriona hesitated, then sighed and closed her eyes. "I got a trifle in advance of myself." Opening her eyes, she looked at Honoria. "You see, I think Richard believes I poisoned him-that might be what he believes when he awakes. I was trying to prepare you for that, trying to assure you he was wrong."

"Well, quite obviously he's wrong-but why would he think such a thing?"

Catriona grimaced. "Possibly because I drugged him once before."

"You did?" Honoria regarded her with more interest than puzzlement. "Why? And how?"

Catriona colored. She tried to hedge, prevaricate, avoid the questions, but, she discovered, Her Grace of St. Ives could be ruthless. Honoria dragged the answers from her-then slumped back in her chair and regarded her with awe. "You're very brave," she eventually stated. "I don't know of many women who would be game to feed an aphrodisiac to a Cynster-and then climb into bed with him."

Catriona raised her brows in resignation. "Blame it on total innocence."

Honoria's lips had yet to return to straight; she shot her a measuring, not-at-all-discouraging, look. "You know, that's really a very good story, but one I fear we'll have to keep within the family-the female part of it, that is."

Having by now realized that Her Grace of St. Ives, having been married to His Grace for more than a year, was unshockable, Catriona accepted the comment with an equanimity that, half an hour before, would have astounded her.

"However, to return to your fears over what Richard might think once he wakes, I really do think that you're underestimating him." Head on one side, Honoria stared past her, clearly considering. "He's not usually thickheaded. And he's certainly not blind-none of them are, although you'll find they sometimes try to pretend they are." She looked directly at Catriona. "Do you have any reason to think he believes you were involved, or is it-forgive me-merely a worry on your part?"

Catriona sighed. "I don't think so." Briefly, she described Richard's actions before he lost consciousness.

"Hmm." Honoria wrinkled her nose. "You could be wrong-it's perfectly possible he had some other, male-Cynster-type reason for sending so emphatically for Devil. And for staring at you in that way. However," she stated, setting her hands on her knees, "that's neither here nor there. If he wakes with such a stupid idea in his head, you may be sure I'll set him right without delay."

Honoria stood and shook out her skirts; rather more wearily, Catriona rose, too. "He might not listen."

"He'll listen to me." Honoria met her eye and grinned. "They all do, you know. It's one of the benefits of being married to Devil. As he's the head of the family, there's always the possibility that I might have the last word."

Despite herself, for the second time that day, Catriona felt her lips twitch. Honoria saw, and smiled. "And now, if you'll do me the honor of listening to me as well, I really think you should rest. Devil and Worboys and I will watch over Richard-you need to gather your strength in case he needs your healer's skills."

Catriona looked into Honoria's eyes and knew she was right. She drew in a deep breath and felt like she was breathing freely for the first time since Richard had collapsed. Putting out a hand to Honoria's, she squeezed gently, blinked quickly, then nodded. "All right."

Smiling, Honoria kissed her cheek. "We'll call you if he needs you."

Catriona slept deeply into the afternoon; she awoke, still worried, but even more determined to haul her weakened spouse back to this world-and his rightful place at her side.

"He's been unconscious for too long," she declared, pacing once more by his bedside, her gaze on his sleeping face. "We need to do something to rouse him."

"What?" was Devil's only question.

She was about to admit that she didn't know, when a flicker of an eyelid stopped her. She stared at Richard's face, then rushed to the bed. "Richard?"

Another definite flicker-he was trying to respond, but couldn't lift his lids.

Devil, close beside her, placed a hand on her arm when she would have spoken again. "Richard," he said, his tone a warning, "Maman's coming!"

Richard's reaction was clearly visible. He tried desperately to open his eyes, but couldn't. A frown creased his brow, then slowly eased as he drifted back into unconsciousness.

"We can walk him!" Fired anew, Catriona dragged back the covers. "If he can respond, then forcing him to use his muscles will help work the poison from his system."

Devil helped her haul Richard to his feet, but Richard was still too incapable to support his own weight; while Devil could hold him upright, he couldn't make him walk. When Catriona tried to slide under Richard's other arm and help, Devil pulled a lock of her hair "No!" He frowned at her "Get Henderson."

There was enough implacability in his face to make her heave an exasperated sigh and run from the room.

Henderson came quickly. With him under one of Richard's arms and Devil under the other, they started walking Richard up and down the room. At first, it was no more than a dragging stagger, as one foot dragged, then fell in front of the other. They walked him for ten minutes, then rested, then tried again. And won a fraction more response from Richard. Heartened, they kept up the treatment, walking, resting, then walking again.