“Have they made you comfortable?” With a fillip of guilt over not accompanying her to Wales himself, her father had sent along not only Eliza, but footmen, grooms, and the boot boy for good measure.

“Oh, yes, miss. We’re in the west wing, along with the people who are dying of cankers and such. They told us to never go to the east wing, as that’s where they put the ones with infections. That a body could catch, I mean. There’s one housekeeper for each wing, and another for the castle. Some patient was groaning just terrible last night so I thought I’d never sleep, but he finally stopped. Mr. Prufrock said that if it happens again, I should complain, and they’ll hush him up.”

“How on earth can they do that? If the man’s in pain, I mean.”

“Give him some medicine, I shouldn’t wonder,” Eliza said. “Why don’t you go wait by the fire, miss, until your hair dries?”

Linnet groaned. “Because I haven’t anything to read. Could you possibly run down to that library and bring me a book or two, Eliza?”

“I suppose I could ask a footman to help me find it,” Eliza said. “There’s one who’s rather attractive, with the funniest name. He was telling me last night that the doctor threatened to cut off his head and see if he could walk around with it.”

Ten minutes later she had returned with a stack of books. “There are oh so many of them,” she reported. “I couldn’t find anything that looked like the sort of novel you like to read, though.”

The books weren’t exactly Linnet’s general reading fare, but a desperate woman will read anything. “Did you know that eating a melon will cure swelling?” she asked Eliza, some time later.

“Really? Maybe a toe. But I doubt any other kind; my da used to get a terrible swollen nose if he drank too much. Do put that book down now, miss. I have your corset ready.”

Rather reluctantly, Linnet put the book to the side. “It also says that onions should be used to freshen the breath.”

“Plain foolishness,” Eliza stated, lacing her corset and then easing a gown over Linnet’s curls, which were now pulled up and fastened all over her head with shining little enameled flowers. When she started buttoning up the back, Linnet caught up the book again.

“My aunt drinks huge quantities of Daffy’s Elixir,” Linnet said. “She thinks that keeps her slim. This book suggests stewed ox-cheek.”

“That’s revolting.” Eliza paused and then added thoughtfully. “It probably works for that very reason.”

“I wonder what Lord Marchant thinks of patent medicines,” Linnet said. “Do you know where he might be found?”

“By all accounts he’s usually up with the patients. Do stand still, miss. I just need to fix this last button—there. You’ve an hour before the luncheon bell.”

Linnet took a quick look at herself in the glass—front and sides.

“No sign of a baby,” Eliza said cheerfully. “I wonder when the duke will notice. By all accounts he’s mad on the subject of royalty, just mad. He’ll be that disappointed when it turns out you’re not the mopsy he wanted for his son.”

Linnet sighed. “Does everyone in the household know everything?”

“Not this household,” Eliza said, shocked. “Though I have to admit that they’ve started a betting pool below stairs. Mr. Prufrock isn’t nearly as stuffy as Mr. Tinkle at home; Mr. Tinkle would never have countenanced such a thing.”

“Is the pool over whether I am carrying a child or not?”

“Oh, no! We, that is, all of us from home, know that you had Stubbins drive you about London with nary a stop to pick up that prince. It’s on whether Lord Marchant will find himself infatuated with you.”

“I sincerely hope you didn’t put your life savings into it,” Linnet said, heading for the door.

“Every one of us who came along with you, we’re betting for you. And the whole household here, well, they’re betting for his lordship. He’s got them all scared to death. They think he’s inhuman.”

“For good reason, no doubt,” Linnet said. “They work for him after all. You’re going to lose your money, Eliza. Lord Marchant and I already agreed that we don’t suit.”

Eliza grinned. “Why don’t you just wander on upstairs and ask him about pickled calf’s cheek or whatever it was?” She darted across the room and tugged Linnet’s bodice a little lower. “Now you’re ready.”

Linnet made her way to the infirmary on the third floor, but when she poked her head in the door, there was no sight of Piers, or indeed, of any of the doctors. The patient from yesterday raised his head, though, and said something she couldn’t understand, so she walked over to him.

He looked rather like a dog, the kind of shaggy dog who hangs around alleyways looking pathetic and scabrous. “Your skin condition looks quite painful,” she said. “We didn’t have a chance to meet yesterday, but my name is Miss Thrynne.”

“Mither Hammer’ock,” the patient managed. His tongue was certainly swollen.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked. “Would you like some water?”

“The doctor said there’s nothing to do for him,” came a voice from behind her.

She turned about to find a small boy in the next bed. He wasn’t much more appealing than Mr. Hammerhock, being all teeth and bones. He too had a kind of dog-in-the-alley scrappiness about him, with brown hair sticking up every which way on his head. He was too pale. She felt a pulse of alarm; surely he wasn’t one of the dying patients Eliza mentioned.

“Nothing to do for him doesn’t mean he can’t drink water,” she said. “And what is your name?”

“Gavan,” he said, pushing himself up in the bed. “Hammerhock there, see, yesterday they decided he had some sort of a fever. So the nurse comes by once in a while and puts a wet cloth on his face and gives him some medicine.”

Hammerhock was nodding.

“Where is the nurse?” Linnet inquired. She was feeling, if the truth be told, rather out of her depth.

“She’s taking a break,” Gavan said. “It gives her the megrims being cooped up in here with all of us dying folk.”

“Dying? Are you dying?”

Gavan smirked. “The doctor says as how we’re all dying.”

Mr. Hammerhock made a strangled noise from his bed, so Linnet turned to him. He pointed to a glass of water, and she helped him take a sip. He lay back and closed his eyes.

Linnet looked down the row of patients, but most of them seemed to be in a stupor, so she sat down on Gavan’s bed. “How did you end up here?”

“Me mum brought me,” he said, frowning. “And she left me.”

“Do you live very far from the castle?”

“Not very far. Well, further than to market.”

“And now the doctor is taking care of you,” Linnet said. “Soon you’ll be able to go home again.”

“Can’t go home,” Gavan said. “I can’t go home because I’m sick and here I have this bed, see. So me mum said I should stay here because, well, I have sheets, don’t I? And food, all the food I want.”