He felt his way to the stairs. There were no candles or spills, not even a rushlight. But he remembered the low ceiling and heavy railing well enough. He made his way up to his mother's chamber. The lamp he had left with her still burned low.

She was sleeping. He stood for a moment, watching her labored breath. His mischievous, sweet-faced maman—he had hardly known her for herself when he saw her. She was drawn, her cheeks sunken, her lips parted, thinned by the effort to take in air. But she had a trace of a smile, as if she dreamed a pleasant dream.

Trev scowled. He hardly cared to admit the vast feeling of relief that he had felt when Lady Callie offered to come. It was not something he would have asked of her. They were all but strangers now. But still, the moment he had recognized her, it was as if no time had passed; he had wanted to sit down and confide everything in her, his shock and fear at his mother's illness, his consternation at the state of the house, his amazement to find Lady Callista Taillefaire here in Shelford yet.

Unmarried.

He put that thought away, not yet ready for the surge of anger, the wound that lay behind it. Even that surprised him—he had supposed himself long ago over that juvenile affair. But they could still be friends, it seemed, for which he was glad. He liked Callie. Admired her. What other lady of her position would stop dead in the midst of a waltz and insist upon coming instantly to the aid of a Frenchwoman who had no earthly claims upon her?

He smiled a little. A lavender turban, with that hair. Only Callie: oblivious to every fashion, as sweet and shy as a wild doe. He shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed, lightly touching his mother's hand.

"May I have the honor of this dance, Mademoiselle?" he murmured in French.

Her long lashes f luttered, dark against her pallor. She lifted them. "Trevelyan," she whispered, curling her hand about his. "Mon amour."

He raised her hand and kissed her cool fingers. "I cannot permit these indolent airs," he said. "You wish to encourage my rivals, I know it. I will have to shoot them all."

She smiled and spoke to him in English. "You enjoyed the assembly?"

"Of course! I engaged myself to two beautiful young ladies and had to leave by the back window. I've f led to you for aid. Will you conceal me in your wardrobe?"

She gave a faint husky laugh. "Let the girls meet… on the field of honor," she said in a weak voice. "Nothing to trouble about."

"But their mothers might pursue me!"

"Alors, I'll dispatch their mothers myself, by poison."

He squeezed her hand. "I see now where I come by my unsteady nature."