Her nervous edginess this morning—jumping at doors, startling at footsteps—was silly. He probably didn’t remember anything. The drug had hit him so hard. In her nervousness she must have poured too much powder into the cup, and coupled with the amount of whisky he’d drunk, he probably remembered very little from last night. It must all seem a haze of confused dreams.

That explained why he hadn’t come storming in here with his sword drawn demanding satisfaction—in this case, marriage. She knew him; his overabundance of honor would demand it.

She was relieved that he hadn’t. Of course, she was. This way she didn’t have to refuse him. She could pretend as if nothing had happened.

It was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

The silly ache in her chest seemed to disagree. But what had she expected? Poetry and flowers? Platitudes and promises?

She was far too cynical for heartfelt declarations; she didn’t need reassurance that she’d done everything all right. That she hadn’t been the only one who thought what they shared was wonderful and amazing and special.

But she might not have objected to a few tender words afterward. And if she harbored a secret hope that he would remember something so important no matter what, she knew it wasn’t fair.

As soon as Bess had set down the tray and left, Margaret turned to her. “Are you sure you are telling me everything?” She looked furtively at the closed door. “Nothing—”

“Nothing happened,” Joan finished for her. “I told you it went exactly as I planned.” Mostly. “As soon as the sleeping powder took effect, I searched his things and found the missive in his sporran.” She neglected to mention that she was so upset she was halfway down the stairs before realizing she’d forgotten to destroy the seal and had to return to his room. “That’s when I discovered that the seal had already broken off.” Irony, that. Her deception—her seduction—had all been for nothing. “You have nothing to fear. Your secret is safe.”

Margaret studied her face for a long moment, and apparently satisfied, she smiled and heaved a sigh of relief. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear it. You’ve been watching the door so anxiously this morning I thought something had gone wrong.”

Joan tried to return her smile and shook her head. “Nay, everything went perfectly.”

“I’m so glad. I was so worried. I know you and Sir Alex . . .” Her cousin blushed awkwardly. “It couldn’t have been easy for you. Is there any chance—?”

“No,” Joan said, stopping her before she could finish. She couldn’t let herself think like that. She needed to deal with reality.

Margaret held her gaze, perhaps guessing her thoughts. “I don’t know how to thank you. If there is anything I can do?”