By a short time later, Quill had established a routine. Every hour, on the dot, he wrapped a towel around Gabby’s neck and spooned water into her open mouth. He had discovered that if he held her head just so, some of the water didn’t pour back out. At least he thought that was the case.

He was exhausted by midnight and turned the task over to Margaret. He threw himself on his bed and slept fitfully. Two hours later he woke with a start and peered toward the adjoining door to Gabby’s chamber. It was the coldest, darkest part of the night. Had he heard something? Perhaps Gabby was awake?

But one glance through the adjoining door showed him that nothing had changed. Margaret had Gabby propped on her arm, and his wife’s head was lolling to the side. The maid turned to him, face white with fatigue.

“My lord,” she said hopelessly.

“Go to bed,” Quill said. “And ask Codswallop to attend me at dawn.” He tucked a towel under Gabby’s neck again.

Early in the morning he sent a footman out to fetch the best doctor in London, one among the many Quill had consulted regarding his migraines.

Dr. Winn was a thin and angular man, with a sloping jaw and bright blue eyes. “Interesting,” he said, looking at the small bottle. “A very interesting case, my lord. Tree-frog poison, did you say?” He took Gabby’s pulse and listened to her heart. “She appears to be in a deep sleep. Have you tried to give her any coffee? I have had some success at waking patients with coffee or a very strong tea.”

Quill spent the next two hours watching ugly brown coffee spill out of his wife’s lax mouth and stain the white towel. There was no change.

Dr. Winn sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “These Eastern poisons are the very devil,” he said frankly. “I know little about them. I am afraid that there is nothing I can do that wouldn’t smack of the experimental, my lord.” Dr. Winn’s caution was precisely the reason that Quill had approved of him years ago. Winn had not handed him concoctions of mashed wasp or Indian hemp. He had advised him to live with the headaches.

But now Quill felt quite different. “Then do your experiment,” he said shortly.

Dr. Winn hesitated. “If we give her a stronger stimulant than coffee—you realize that we are in effect fighting a poison with a poison?”

Quill clenched his teeth. “She must wake up. I do not know how much water has made it down her throat.”

“You are quite right,” Winn said. “She may die of dehydration.”

Quill picked up the spoon, but his hand shook and the water didn’t even reach Gabby’s mouth. “Do something,” he said.