I opened my eyes and wondered why the daylight hurt me so much. Then vague recollections of the night before crept back. Not only of my drunkenness but of the danger I had felt. And I had been too drunk to be vigilant. I opened my bedroom door. The house was suspiciously quiet. I should have stayed awake and alert last night. I should have told Darcy my suspicions instead of . . . My cheeks turned flaming hot as I remembered some of the things I said to him. If someone had died during the night, it would be my fault.

Even the Wexlers had not leaped up at the crack of dawn after the previous night’s festivities. I suspected I wasn’t the only one taken by surprise at the strength and amount of the alcohol consumed. I washed, dressed and came downstairs to find the Rathbones breakfasting quietly on toast and black coffee. I decided that was all I could manage too and was just trying to swallow a morsel with marmalade on it when the door opened and Monty, Badger and Darcy came in, laughing as if they were in the middle of a good joke.

“So the bishop said, ‘Not during Lent,’” Monty finished and the other two laughed even louder. They went over to the sideboard and started helping themselves generously to everything that was there while I looked around to see if there was another way out of the room or I could disguise myself as a standard lamp. Before I could attempt either, Darcy came and sat beside me.

“Good morning, my lady,” he said. “I trust you slept well?”

I flushed bright red as I saw his eyes laughing at me. “Remind me never to drink elderberry wine again,” I said.

“Good God, you didn’t actually drink any of those old biddies’ wine, did you?” Monty said in a horrified voice. “They are notorious for it around here. Lethal. Positively lethal. And the elderberry is worse than the dandelion. Of course, the parsnip is the real killer.”

At the mention of the word “killer” I found that I was no longer laughing. I remembered the sense of danger I had felt as we walked from my mother’s cottage.

“Is everybody all right this morning?” I asked.

Monty was still grinning. “I suspect the other guests feel rather the way you do,” he said. “If they all knocked back that wine they’ll have glorious headaches.”

Monty and Badger devoured their food as only young college men can and excused themselves to go outside and hurl around a rugby ball. I went to go too, but Darcy grabbed my wrist. “What did you mean by asking if everyone was all right?” he said softly. “Did you suspect that might not be the case?”