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Felicity’s nerves felt stretched to the breaking point.

She could no longer concentrate on the others around the table.

All her thoughts centered on one inescapable fact.

Out of desperation, Lord Falcon had sent for her father, and not merely because he needed a friend.

It was much more than that. He needed her father’s expertise.

Could it be that the old man’s illness had been induced? But if that were so, it would have to mean that the handsome, charming man beside her—

She pushed away from the table.

The conversation abruptly ceased.

“What is it, my dear?” Lord Summerville touched a napkin to his lips and started to rise. A touch of Honora’s hand on his sleeve stopped him.

“Nothing. Perhaps I am more tired than I thought.” Felicity took several halting steps and prayed her trembling legs wouldn’t fail her. “Please don’t let me spoil your meal. I believe I’ll just catch a breath of air.”

“When you’re feeling better,” Honora said with a trace of impatience, “we’ll be taking our brandy in the parlor.”

“Thank you. I’ll join you there.” Catching up her skirts, Felicity hurried from the room.

Once in the hallway she leaned against the cold stone wall and touched a hand to her chest, as if to still her pounding heart.

If her fears were confirmed, it would mean that she had stumbled into a den of evil.

She felt touched by icy fingers. Whoever had rifled her bags and pushed her down the stairs had meant it as a warning.

Someone wanted to frighten her off. But if she stayed?

Her life, like that of Lord Falcon, was in grave peril. Hadn’t Gareth said as much?

She took several long, calming breaths, then charted a course of action.

Right now it was not fear for herself that mattered.

The more pressing danger lay with Lord Falcon.

And perhaps his son, the bedridden William.

The first thing she needed to do was to find out where William’s rooms were and then confirm or dismiss her fears.

Lifting a candle from a sconce on the wall, she made her way along the dimly lit hallway, poking her head into doorways.

After more than a dozen false starts, she located a gloomy sitting room.

The only illumination came from the fire on the grate.

Beyond, she could see a thin stream of light beneath a closed door.

Crossing the room, she shoved open the door.

A single taper burned in a wall sconce, casting much of the room in shadow.

A man lay on the bed. The twisted covers signaled a tortured sleep. He moaned and flung an arm wide, then writhed and turned onto his back.

Felicity waited for the space of several heartbeats.

When he made no further move, she inched closer, holding her light aloft.

At the sight of him she had to stifle a gasp of recognition.

He bore a striking resemblance to Gareth.

He had dark hair badly in need of a trim, broad shoulders, narrow waist and hips.

All in all a strong, muscular body, despite the time spent in the confines of his bed.

“So you are William,” she muttered.

At once his eyes opened, and she felt another shock. He had the same dark, tormented eyes of another.

“Who are…?” His gaze fastened on the flame of the candle, and he shrank back, as though expecting her to inflict pain.

Did others come here, tapers in hand, to do harm? It would explain his reaction. Or was she seeing evil where none existed?

“I’m a friend,” she whispered.

He seemed not to hear as he began muttering curses. He tried to rise but fell back weakly. Then, while he stared at her with a look that haunted her, he continued to mumble incoherent words.

She heard the door to the sitting room open and close. Sweet heaven. Someone was coming. Determined to hide, she looked frantically around the room, then ducked into a wardrobe and blew out the candle. A moment later she peered out and watched as a shadowy figure made its way to the bedside.

“Oh, my beloved,” came the sound of a woman’s fierce whisper.

Felicity was riddled with guilt at witnessing this tender moment between husband and wife.

“My poor, dear William. I feel so helpless. It tears my heart out to see you like this.”

As Felicity’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized that the figure beside the bed was not Honora. The gown was not the daring low-cut confection that Honora had worn at dinner. This was a more subdued, elegant sheath of pale silk.

Felicity stared in disbelief.

The woman beside the bed, whispering words of love, was Diana Summerville.

Felicity was too stunned to confront the distraught young woman. Instead she waited until Diana had soothed the savage William with gentle hands and barely audible phrases. As he slipped into blessed sleep, Diana smoothed the covers over him and let herself out.

Only then did Felicity step out of her place of concealment and cross the room. As she made her way to her own suite, she tried to digest all that she had seen and heard.

Could it be that Diana and the doctor were working together to bring down Falcon’s Lair?

But why? What possible motive could she have?

Felicity paused. Diana’s actions had not been that of a conspirator or a woman scorned.

Rather, they had been the actions of a lover.

But if not Diana, there had to be someone else assisting the doctor.

He could not accomplish such a conspiracy alone.

One name came to mind: Honora. But for what purpose?

She was already mistress of Falcon’s Lair.

What could she possibly gain by bringing harm to her husband and his father?

Felicity sighed in distress. She needed a friend here at Falcon’s Lair, one who could help her through this labyrinth. But whom could she trust?

“Ah, here you are, ma’am.” Bean looked up from the cozy fire she had built on the hearth. “There’s a real chill in the air tonight. Thought you might enjoy a bit of warmth after your meal with Lady Honora and Dr. St. John.”

Felicity stepped close to the fire and perched on the edge of the sofa, choosing her words carefully. “What do you know about the mistress of Falcon’s Lair, Bean?”

The little maid shrugged. “Not much, ma’am. Lady Honora’s a mystery. The last thing Lord William’s father expected was for his son to return from abroad with a wife. Especially since…” She stopped herself in midsentence and glanced away.

“Go on, Bean. Especially since what?”

The little maid lowered her voice and settled herself on a footstool at Felicity’s feet.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am. Everyone knew that Lord William and Diana Summerville loved each other.

And had since they were children. Why, it near broke Diana’s heart when she heard the news of his marriage.

But she has tried in every way to be a friend to William’s new wife. ”

“Tell me about William’s accident. Do you know how it came about?”

Bean nodded. “Lord William’s horse stumbled during a race across the moors.”

“Who was he racing against?”

“Dr. St. John.” The little maid hugged her knees. “The doctor boasted that his gelding could beat any horse in England and dared his cousin to prove him wrong. Everyone knew Lord William could never refuse a dare, and he was overly proud of Titan, his black stallion.”

“How did Lord William’s new bride react to the news that her husband was going to attempt a dangerous race?”

Bean thought for a moment. “I’d say she was quite eager about it, ma’am. Encouraged him. You see, she often complained that there was no excitement here at Falcon’s Lair.”

Felicity stared into the flames, her mind awhirl with chilling thoughts. “It looks as if she got more excitement than she bargained for.” At length she said, “Please send my regrets to Lady Honora. Tell her I am indisposed and will not be joining the others in the parlor tonight.”

A crescent moon hung suspended in a midnight sky. Starlight filtered through the tall, narrow windows as Felicity made her way along the upper gallery. Candles flickering in sconces along the walls sent the gargoyles’ shadows into an eerie dance.

Bean had told her about this gallery, hung with portraits of every lord of the manor, from the first Lord Falcon to the present. Since all in the castle were sleeping, Felicity thought it the perfect time to investigate.

She lifted her candle high, studying the faces in the portraits.

Though the manner of dress changed dramatically through the ages, the faces of the men were strangely similar and hauntingly familiar.

The same dark hair and eyes. The same full, sculpted lips, firm and unsmiling. The same eyes. Piercing. Knowing.

She moved slowly past the shadowed faces, pausing now and then to read a name, a date of birth or death. When she reached the far end of the gallery, she stopped in front of a portrait and, with pounding heart, lifted her candle to study the face of the first Lord Falcon.

“What are you doing here? And at such a late hour?”

Felicity spun around and brought a hand to her throat. “Maud—Mrs. Atherton. You…gave me quite a start.”

The housekeeper glowered at her. “Lady Honora said you were indisposed.”

“Just a bit weary, I’m afraid. But now I find I can’t sleep.

I thought I’d explore some of the castle.

” She knew she was babbling and turned away to avoid the woman’s pointed look.

But when the light from her candle illuminated Gareth’s face staring down at her from its ornamental frame, she let out a gasp of surprise.

Following her gaze, the old woman misunderstood her reaction. “A fearsome countenance, is it not?” She paused beside Felicity and stared at the portrait. “But handsome and charming as well. He is Gareth, the first Lord Falcon. A dashing nobleman and close friend to Henry VIII.”