She shook her head. "I am mistaken. I have made so many mistakes. Do not heed me."

My alarm grew. "You must tell me."

She blinked again, and then a sane light entered her eyes. She pulled away. "You gave me too much brandy. I do not know what I mean." Her gaze darted to me and away, color blooming on her cheeks.

I stared at her. Had she witnessed her husband's murder, that very night, perhaps? Was that what had driven her out to the bridge alone? Or did she fear for her own life because she knew the murderers' identities? And why the devil hadn't she simply run to Bow Street?

"Madam, you really must tell me what has happened."

She shook her head again. "No. I am tired. I must sleep." She closed her eyes.

I tried for a time to make her speak to me, to explain her fantastic declaration. She remained stubbornly silent. When I told her I would go out and fetch back a Bow Street Runner, her manner changed. Her haughty demeanor fell away and she regarded me with the alarm of a child. She begged me to say nothing, that she had dreamed it, that she had invented it in her stupor. I did not believe her, but I could see that something, at least, had frightened her badly.

I at last gave up. She was exhausted and incoherent and needed sleep. I would put her to bed and question her again in the morning.

She agreed to take my bed, but nearly collapsed when I helped her from the chair. I lifted her into my arms. She was light, her frame thin, as though she had been starving herself of late.

I took her to my room and laid her on the solid, square tester bed that had been here since I'd let the rooms from Mrs. Beltan. The thick mahogany bedposts and boards were worn and scarred from a century of use; births, deaths, and lovemaking had occurred in this bed time and again. Now my lady would use it for simple sleep, a healing sleep I hoped.

I had one more weapon in my arsenal and that was laudanum. A few drops of the opiate would let her sleep in sweet oblivion. I dropped the drug into a glass of water and stoppered the bottle again. She drank readily enough, as though relieved to have it, and lay down. I settled the blankets over her, then left her to let the laudanum do its work.