Evelyn knew she was dreaming, even though the feeling of drowning in murkiness felt so real. Try as she might, her limbs refused to budge. She tried to turn her head, but she had no command of her body. All around her were whispering voices. There were many of them, all indiscernible, but she knew they were whispering about her.

Behind her heavy lids, a giant oak tree with bare branches emerged. It was so familiar. She'd been here before. A veiled feminine figure stood beneath it. Flashes of dark blue eyes, so like her own, peered at her through thick, dark netting.

"Mother," Evelyn wanted to cry out. Her lips felt sewn shut. Instead, her heart wept. She tried to run to the veiled woman. Her feet would not move. Suddenly, a pair of rough, dirty hands pushed her back. Broken brown teeth leered at her. Her arms flailed, trying to strike any part of him she could. Help! Dear God, would someone save her!

************************************

When Evelyn woke up, she felt her eyelashes rip apart from a layer of crust that sealed her eyes. Instantly, she felt a pain wrapped around her entire head. Each breath she took sent a thousand little daggers slicing through her chest and innards. A wave of nausea forced her to drop back against the pillows. This bed was so plush, so comforting. She realised with a jolt that she was not in her bed at the Warwick's. She looked around her at a vaulted, unfamiliar chamber that was sparsely furnished. When she lifted back the covers, she saw that someone had removed her clothes, as she was now dressed in a sleeping gown far too big.

The chamber door opened, and a rosy-cheeked, stout woman rushed to her bedside. "There, there," the woman said as she came to place a warm hand on Evelyn's forehead, then tucked the covers around Evelyn again. "There's no need to fret. You're safe here, my poor lamb."

"Where is here?" Evelyn asked. She was curious yet unafraid in the presence of this large woman with kind brown eyes. There was something so familiar about her handsome nose and strong jawline.

"I am Mrs Charlotte Fields, but I insist you call me Charlotte as we are to be family!" the woman said with unbridled joy. "I am so glad to meet you, even if it is under these circumstances. "

Evelyn raised a hand to her throbbing forehead. Her fingers felt the edge of a slight bump at her hairline. "I must have word sent to — Lord Warwick, lest they should worry--"

A knock on the closed chamber door interrupted Evelyn. Charlotte rushed over to admit a tall, slender young gentleman. The moment Evelyn recognised Philip Mallory, she realised why Charlotte looked so familiar.

"Thank God, Lady Evelyn," Philip said with a look of genuine relief. "I'm happy to see you awake and looking much better. My sister, Charlotte, is a wonderful, diligent nurse."

"You are my saviour, sir," Evelyn said. She held out her hand to him. "How shall I ever thank you?"

Philip exchanged glances with his sister before holding up a hand to stop her. "You don't remember. It was my cousin who heard your cries and rushed to your aid. I merely followed him, and I was much too slow, I'm afraid."

Evelyn was half-listening as she took some water Charlotte held to her lips. So many questions were on the edge of her mind, but for now, all that mattered was the sweet, cool water on her parched lips. It felt like an invisible mallet was pounding nails into her skull. But then she bolted up. "Then it was Lord Davenport--"

Philip gave a weak smile.

"You still have my thanks," Evelyn said quickly.

"No need. We're to be family soon," Philip replied with that smile that didn't reach his gloomy eyes.

"You both deserve credit," Charlotte interjected. "I can't imagine what a horrible ordeal that must have been."

"What happened? I recall so little."

Charlotte and Philip exchanged another look. Charlotte was about to speak when Philip gave her a warning look to stay silent.

"Robbers," Philip explained. "No need to worry. They won't trouble you again."

"You're safe now,' Charlotte said at the look of bewilderment on Evelyn's face. "Meanwhile, you'll need to rest and not to worry about a thing."

Evelyn felt her lids droop as sleep threatened to reclaim her. But then, something occurred to her to pull her from her stupor. "Whose house is this?"

"Good heavens, it will be your home soon enough," Charlotte said with a chuckle. "Cousin John always allows us free use of the place whenever we are in town. My husband prefers to keep to the country, but I cannot resist these visits during the Season. My room is just down the hall from yours, should you need anything at all."

"Lord Davenport's home," Evelyn muttered even as she attempted a smile at this kind woman, but it was all too much, and she lost the battle with sleep.

"It's quite extraordinary," Charlotte said when she was alone with her brother. "We learn of Cousin John's sudden betrothal through strangers on the same day his intended bride was attacked. Does our cousin have so many enemies? Is this why he's kept her existence even from us?"

"The world is not so dangerous, sister," Philip assured her. "Thankfully, the blackguard was stopped before he could do her more harm."

"That poor coachman. God forgive me, but I'm not sorry one culprit is dead, though I'd like to have seen him face justice. I shudder to think that the other one is lurking about somewhere out there. If he were to return--?"

"His return means facing the hangman's noose. And that's still a much more preferable fate for him than our cousin's wrath, I assure you."

"Still. Troubling business, all this. To be attacked in such a manner in a fashionable quarter. I suppose it's not safe anywhere. Times have changed. More troublesome still that the Warwicks allowed a young lady to be out unchaperoned at night."

Philip winced. "Yes."

"Cousin John was right to bring her here, poor lamb," Charlotte continued.

Philip lowered his voice. "We must be vigilant. Scoundrels might have intended to molest wealthy young women travelling alone, but--"

"But?" Charlotte urged.

"--but, perhaps it's something much more sinister. Cautious man he is, our cousin made inquiries. It seems the dead man boasted to a tavern full of witnesses of some great opportunity the night before the incident. He flaunted several gold sovereigns; those who knew him swore he could not have got by honest means."

Charlotte's kind, broad face showed her confusion. Finally, she let out a sharp breath and crossed herself. "I can't help but blame Lady Warwick for this whole thing."

"Many do," Philip agreed. "Never mind that. Lady Evelyn is here now, with us. We must take every precaution to safeguard her, you understand."

"What of Cousin John? He ought to be here with her."

Philip's shoulders sagged under some great weight. "He-he won't have her at the Warwick's, so he removed himself to his club seeing as they're not wed-- yet."

"He ought to be with her," Charlotte argued. "She needs him now. But, even under these extraordinary circumstances, I must tell you how glad I am that he's to be settled. Oh, I can't tell you how long I've waited for this moment. Ever since— well, I needn't tell you. We shan't speak of that!"