The stablehands just stared at her, clearly not sure, how to reply.

She marched over to Charles. "Give me the knife," she said. "I'll take care of your boot."

He handed it to her without a word, still in shock over the recent attempt against his life.

She sat inelegantly at his feet and began to saw away at his boot. "Next time you compare me to a mule," she hissed, "you had better find the mule wanting."

Charles couldn't even manage a chuckle.

"Why was Whistler bleeding?" she asked.

He exchanged a glance with Leavey and James. He didn't want her to know about the attempt on his life. He would have to have a talk with the two men as soon as she left, for if they uttered one word about this to anyone, Ellie would learn the truth before nightfall. Gossip could be rampant on country estates. "It was just a scratch," he told her. "He must have stuck himself on a branch while running home."

"I don't know very much about horses," she said, not looking up from her work on his boot, "but that sounds strange to me. Whistler would have had to hit that branch very hard to draw blood."

"Er, I suppose he would."

She eased the mutilated boot from his foot. "I can't imagine how he would have hit a branch while running along the main road or the drive. Both are kept very clear."

She had him there. Charles looked over to Leavey for help, but the stablemaster just shrugged.

Ellie touched his ankle gently, checking the swelling. "Furthermore," she said, "it makes more sense that he sustained the injury before he threw you. After all, there must be some explanation for his distress. He's never thrown you before, has he?"

"No," Charles said.

She turned the ankle slightly. "Does that hurt?"

"No."

"Does this?" She turned it in a different direction.

"No."

"Good." She dropped his foot and looked up at him. "I think you're lying to me."

Charles noticed that Leavey and James had conveniently disappeared.

"What really happened to Whistler, Charles?" When he didn't reply fast enough, she leveled a hard stare in his direction and added, "And remember that I'm as stubborn as a mule, so don't think you're going anywhere without telling me the truth."

Charles let out a weary sigh. There were disadvantages to having such an intelligent wife. There was no way Ellie wasn't going to ferret out the entire story on her own. Better she hear it fromNhim. He told her the truth, finishing up by showing her the rusty nail Leavey had left sitting beside him on the bench.

Ellie twisted her gloves in her hands. She'd taken them off before tending to his ankle, and now they were a wrinkled mess. After a long pause, she said, "What did you hope to gain by hiding this from me?"

"I just wanted to protect you."

"From the truth?" Her voice was sharp.

"I didn't want you to worry."

"You didn't want me to worry."

He thought she sounded unnaturally calm.

"You didn't want me to worry?"

Now he thought she sounded a little bit shrill.

"You didn't want me to WORRY?"

By now Charles figured that half the staff of Wycombe Abbey could hear her yelling. "Ellie, my love—"

"Don't try to weasel out of this by calling me 'your love' " she stormed. "How would you feel if I lied to you about something this important? Well? How would you feel?"

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, she yelled, "I'll tell you how you would feel. You would be so angry you would want to strangle me."

Charles thought she was most probably right, but didn't see the point in admitting it just then.

Ellie took a deep breath and pressed her fingers against her temples. "All right, all right, Ellie," she said to herself, "calm down. Killing him now would be counterproductive." She looked back up. "I am going to control my temper because this is such a dire and serious situation. But don't think I'm not furious with you."

"There is little danger of that."

"Don't be glib," she bit out. "Someone has tried to kill you, and if we don't figure out who and why, you might end up dead."

"I know," he said softly, "and that is why I am going to hire extra protection for you, Helen, and the girls."

"We are not the ones in need of extra protection! You are the one whose life is in danger."

"I will be extra careful as well," he assured her.

"Dear God, this is terrible. Why would someone want to kill you?"

"I don't know, Ellie."

She rubbed her temples again. "My head aches."

He took her hand. "Why don't we go back to the house?"

"Not now. I'm thinking," she said, shaking his hand off.

Charles gave up trying to follow the zigzags of her thought process.

She whipped her head around to face him. "I'll bet you were meant to be poisoned."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The custard. It wasn't bad milk. Monsieur Belmont has been in a rage for days because we even suggested it. Someone poisoned the custard, but it was meant for you, not me. Everyone knows it is your favorite dessert. You told me so yourself."

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "You're right."

"Yes, and I wouldn't be surprised if the carriage accident when we were courting was also ... Charles? Charles?" Ellie swallowed. "You look quite ill."

Charles felt a rage sweep through him unlike anything he had ever known. That someone had tried to kill him was bad enough. That Ellie had gotten caught in the proverbial line of fire made him want to eviscerate someone.