As sudden and fierce and unstoppable as a revolution, something inside Sir Jasper rose up and said No more. It was all that bitch Lady Bedlow’s fault. Bedlow would have seen things Sir Jasper’s way easy enough if she hadn’t always been there with her idiotic town notions. The district was up in arms, and she’d made Bedlow think he could stop it with a few hocks of ham.

Without her degenerate influence, Louisa would never have dreamed of running away.

Sir Jasper was going to stop this. He had tried to do it kindly, to see that no one was hurt. They had been too willful. It was too late for that now.

Amy felt herself waking up and fought against it. It was no use, but she didn’t open her eyes. As long as she kept her eyes closed, she might still be in her charming, sumptuous bedroom in London and not a wretched, dirty hovel. Of course, even with her eyes closed, she could tell she was lying on a hard cot, not her huge featherbed. She had worked so hard not to live like this. She could not wait to be better and go back to London, away from sweet, handsome Nev and his likable wife who made her green with envy.

It took her a moment or two to realize she was hearing voices, and that they had woken her up. Agnes and-Sir Jasper, she realized. She tried to be pleased. The baronet had been visiting her regularly ever since she was well enough; she rather thought that was one reason the Baileys had wanted to get rid of her. She had quickly learned that Sir Jasper was not popular among the local people.

She didn’t like him either, though she could not put her finger on why. He simply made her hackles rise. Stop being fanciful, she told herself. Open your eyes and charm him. The thought exhausted her. In a moment, she promised, and snuggled deeper into her blankets.

Sir Jasper broke off. “Is she awake?” Amy heard him coming closer and stooping down to look at her. “Amy,” he said softly, his breath hot on her face.

She did not know what in his tone made her do it, but she shifted and sighed, as if still asleep, throwing an arm over her face. Feigning sleep was one of Amy’s many professional skills.

Sir Jasper stood and walked back to Agnes, speaking to her in a low voice. Amy strained to hear. She caught “my house,” “Lady Bedlow,” something she thought was “get her alone” and “woods” but might not have been, and her own name. Everything else was a murmur whose sense she could not fully grasp but which somehow made her intensely uneasy. “Wait for me there,” he finished.

“But sir-” Agnes said, audible and agitated.

Amy heard his next words very clearly. “Oh, come now, it’s not as if you have any affection for the woman.”

“No, sir, but-”

“If you care for your daughter at all, you will do it. I can see her saved, or I can send her to the Assizes.”

There was a pause. “Yes, sir. I’ll go at once.”

Sir Jasper strode out.

Amy heard a rustling thud that might have been Agnes kneeling. “Kit,” she said softly. “Mama has to go out now. Stay here, sweetie.”

“Mama go where?”

“Mama is going to help Josie.” Agnes’s voice shook. “Stay here and watch the pretty lady. Don’t go outside. There are angry people outside.”

“Angry?”

“Because people like Sir Jasper think they own us,” Agnes told him, sounding stronger for a moment. “But they don’t, do they, Kit?”

“No,” Kit said doubtfully.

“They don’t own you on the inside, Kit. Always remember that.” Agnes went out and shut the door behind her.

Something was very wrong. Amy did not know what; she only knew, deep in her bones, that something was wrong, and that Sir Jasper wanted to hurt Nev’s wife.

Amy opened her eyes and considered, staring at the ancient thatch. Yesterday she had managed to walk from her bed to the door and back again without stumbling. Of course, she had leaned on the door frame for a minute or two in between. She did not know if she could make it to the Grange to warn the Bedlows. She did not even know where the Grange was. And Agnes had said there were angry people outside. Whatever that meant, it couldn’t be good.

She could lie here and pretend she had heard nothing. Even if Penelope were hurt, what did it harm Amy? Nev might even take her back if his wife was out of the way.

Amy sighed and threw back the blankets. She sat up, slowly, and her head spun. Standing, she balanced herself with a hand laid flat against the wall.

“Kit? We need to go for a walk.” The child would slow her down, but Amy could hardly leave him behind.

“No outside. Mama said.”

“Mama told you to stay with me. And I’m going for a walk. Do you know where the big house is?”

“Grange,” Kit said. “Sloship gave me sixpence.”

That took her a moment. “His lordship gave you sixpence?”

Kit nodded.

“If we go there now, he’ll give you a shilling,” Amy promised. “Do you know how to get there from here?”

“Another riot?” Lady Bedlow was white and trembling, but Nev had no attention to spare.

“Is this true?” he asked. “How many are involved?”

“It’s true,” Mr. Snively said. “I saw them with my own eyes. Thirty at least and half of them drunk. They want an audience with Sir Jasper. They’re on their way here now.” There were gasps from a number of the guests. Nev distinctly heard his mother’s sharp intake of breath; when he glanced down at Penelope, however, she looked merely intent, her brown eyes fixed on the vicar’s face.

“Where in Heaven’s name is the baronet?” Snively asked.

“He walked out just a minute ago.” Remembering his earlier unease, Nev gestured to a footman. “Go find your master. Tell him it’s urgent.”

Ten excruciating minutes later, made worse by Snively’s unbroken moralizing on the rebellious nature of the English peasant, the butler entered the room. “Sir Jasper is not in the house, my lord. Nor in the stables or any of the outbuildings. Shall I send to the home farm?”

“Send everywhere. Do it quickly.” Nev did not know that he trusted Sir Jasper to deal with the crisis, but they must have a magistrate to read the Riot Act. Or the sheriff, but he was miles away, nearly to Bury St. Edmonds. Perhaps the people would simply disperse. Or perhaps they will hang Sir Jasper to the nearest tree.

“Very good, my lord.” The butler bowed his way out.

Nev looked down and met Penelope’s fearful, resigned eyes. She knew what he was about to say. “I’ve got to go talk to them.”

She opened her mouth as if she were going to protest, then shut it tightly and nodded, once.

“Stay by Thirkell. He’ll protect you if things get ugly.”

She gave a little sobbing laugh. “Who’ll protect you?”

Nev felt a rush of anger. He took his arm from around her. “What do you care? You’d be a deal freer as a widow than a separated wife.”

Now she drew in a sharp, shocked breath.

He looked at her white face, and out of all the ruin of his life today, this was the only thing that mattered. He took a quick step away from her before he could do something stupid and selfish, like beg her to stay. “I’m going to see if I can reason with them,” he said loudly. “All of you stay here. I doubt they will try to hurt you, but you will be safer together.”

“I will go with you,” Mr. Snively said. “Perhaps I can bring them to a sense of their insolence, their hubris if I may say so-”

“You may say nothing of the kind. I consider your hypocritical moralizing partly responsible for this disaster. You will stay here or by God, I will see you broken.”

The vicar fell back, muttering to himself in a shocked undertone.

Several of the other men offered to come with him, but he didn’t know any of them. He didn’t know what they would do. “In a direct contest of strength, five of us will have no better chance than one,” he said. “If it comes to that, we’re already lost. Stay here and protect the women.”

“Let me come with you at least,” Thirkell said. “I know I’m useless, but I’d have your back.”