“This was quite idiotic of me,” Gabby said, her voice a reedy thread. “Wasn’t it, Quill?” She clutched the counterpane tighter. She felt as if she were on the deck of a ship as it listed in a storm. “I’m sorry I behaved so badly.”

He had her hands in his again and was looking down at them. “We were both idiots,” he said heavily. “I goaded you. I know you didn’t try to kill me, Gabby. I was angry.

“And you were right.” He was massaging her hands now. “I was stupid, stupid, stupid to argue with you. I should have just thanked you.”

“Not as stupid as I am,” Gabby admitted. “I’m glad Sudhakar has left. He has always scolded me for being impulsive. He didn’t want to give you the medicine,” she added.

“What did he tell you about the medicine? Can you remember anything?”

“No,” Gabby said vaguely. “He said it wasn’t dangerous in small doses.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.” She giggled.

“What is it?”

“I think your ears are growing, Quill! You look like a bunny!” Her eyes grew round. “Look at your nose!” She giggled again.

Quill sighed. When Quill had taken the medicine, it had transformed him into a cheerful, if incoherent, drunk. He could only hope its effect on Gabby was as mild. It was going to be a long night.

But it wasn’t bad. After a few hours during which Gabby alternately giggled and yawned, she fell into a deep sleep.

Quill sat by the bed, utterly discouraged. How could they have come to this pass? What kind of marriage did they have, when his stubbornness had led her to deceive him, and then their quarrel had such terrible consequences?

Why was he such an utter idiot about the matter? Why hadn’t he thrown his arms around Gabby and made love to her all day to celebrate his cure?

He kept looking at his wife. She hardly stirred, but lay like a statue on the bed. Surely she would be all right. He looked at the clock yet again. Only four hours had passed since Gabby took the medicine, and she had said twenty-four would pass before the effects wore off.

He was still sitting there when an elderly Indian man pushed open the bedchamber door.

“Lord Dewland,” he said quietly.

Quill started and then stood up, not letting go of Gabby’s hand. “Sir—” He stopped. It was impossible to explain the foolish argument that had led to this situation.

But Sudhakar seemed to expect no details. He walked over to the bed and took Gabby’s wrist in his hand. Quill’s heart sank when he saw how limp her little hand looked.

“How long has she been sleeping?”

“For around four—almost five hours,” Quill said.

Sudhakar said nothing, but it seemed to Quill that his jaw tightened.

“Is that a bad sign?”

Their eyes met.

“No!” Quill almost shouted it.