Robin hesitated. "Perhaps I'll take a stroll through the west woods. I haven't visited that part of the estate yet."

Knowing he sounded overhearty,, Giles said, "I can't believe what a tame life you're living. I keep expecting you to vanish."

His brother smiled. "If that happens, don't worry. It would just mean that I found something amusing like a band of Gypsies and couldn't resist going off with them."

Giles would be delighted if Robin did find something interesting enough to lure him to unpredictability. Rising, he said, "I have a magistrate's session that will occupy me all day. I'll see you at dinner, unless you find some Gypsies."

After Giles left, Robin made his way to the kitchen to request food for his expedition. The cook gave him four times as much as he could possibly eat; she was determined to fatten him up. A pity his appetite wasn't better.

Then he headed across the hills to the west woods. Too dense for easy riding, the area was best explored on foot, and walking suited his mood.

He had hoped that the peace and familiarity of Wolverhampton would heal whatever ailed him. Up to a point, it had. He was physically stronger, and he had fewer nightmares. There was nowhere he would rather be-and that in itself hinted at what was wrong. In the past, Robin's usual problem had been deciding what fascinating activity should be tried next.

Now he was submerged in a gray melancholy unlike anything he had ever experienced, a weariness of the soul rather than the body. Apart from a brief duty visit to Ruxton, he had spent the last six months sleeping, riding, tramping the countryside, and catching up on his reading and correspondence.