A nightmare prowled just beneath her awareness, chilling her even as it strengthened her determination. She lowered her hands, straightened her spine, and headed for the door.

«My lady,» the maid began.

«Sweet Betsy, do shut up.» Jessica smiled at her maid with trembling lips. «Wish me well. If I succeed, you’ll get that trip to America I promised you three years ago.»

Jessica opened the door and stepped into the hall. Betsy’s low sound of distress was cut off by the soft thump of the closing door. Gathering the flyaway layers of silk in her hands, Jessica hurried toward the wing of the house where Wolfe’s rooms were. Fragrant oil lamps burned in stone niches in the hall, for Lord Robert was a great lover of tradition in the home. The illumination was dim, but that didn’t worry Jessica. She knew every alcove and corner of the great house.

Flinching when she passed windows where the storm beat in merciless demands for entrance, Jessica hurried through the huge stone house. She didn’t expect anyone else to be about, for she had waited until even the servants had gone to bed. She did avoid the library, however, for she knew the lord often gamed there until dawn with his friends.

Jessica hurried down another hall and ran lightly up a stairway. Just as she gained the top, she overran Lord Gore, who was considerably under the weather from port.

«Dear God,» she said, righting herself frantically.

Gore staggered, then caught himself by grabbing Jessica. Though drunk, he wasn’t beyond telling the difference between male and female flesh. Nor was he weak. When Jessica tried to twist free of him, his hands tightened. One hand dug into her breast. The other bruised her shoulder.

«Damn, but ‘tis my little lady.» Gore’s eyes narrowed as he dragged himself erect and focused on the silk and lace confection Jessica wore. «Very fetching, sweet. I’d not hoped to find you so eager for the marriage bed. Had I known, I’d have put less port under my hatches and got under yours sooner.»