Anne opened her mouth to pry into her younger sister's business, purely to help her, and not at all because she was wildly curious about the light in Rosemary's dark velvet eyes. Unfortunately, before she could launch into a loving (but thorough) interrogation, the door of the private sitting room opened.

Anne's carefully couched question faded on her lips as a furry, barking whirlwind caroomed into the room. Balder, ears flapping, tongue flying, drool trailing, raced joyously round the neatly appointed private parlour of the Missing Key. He may have been trailing a mouse, but whatever his object, he pursued it with great exuberance. Most unfortunately, Rosemary, seated on the low stool, her wide skirts spread neatly, happened to be an obstruction to Balder's frantic circles. Before she knew quite what had happened, Rosemary was lying on her back staring at the smoked blackened beams above. Anne gasped and bent to assist her sister. Balder offered his enthusiastic assistance, so seconds later, Anne joined her sister on the cold floor.

Flora, followed by Jacob and Alistair chose that inopportune moment to join the sisters. The gentlemen were treated to the sight of two unended ladies and a more than a glimpse of lace trimmed undergarmets. Alistair was tranfixed, as much by the sight of Rosemary's sweet face framed by her hair which had become disarranged, as by her shapely but immodestly exposed ankles.

Flora was the first of the trio to recover and she rushed forward. Anne and Rosemary were giggling uncontrollably, unaware of the gaping audience. They were both wearing modest hoops, but even hoops of a modest size do not allow a lady a great deal of dignity when she is sprawling on the floor. Flora, tempted to join in the mirth, gestured for the gentlemen to exit. Jacob, after a wide eyed stare, found himself obliged to use considerable force to drag his entranced companion out of the room and down the hall back to the inn's public room.

Oh my poor dears," Flora exclaimed between giggles. "Bad Balder! I am so sorry!" She lent a hand to each sister and they staggered to their feet.

Rosemary clutched Flora for support, breathless with laughter. Rosemary was also laughing, but to herself she acknowledged some gratitude for the timely interruption.

While Flora scolded Balder, who had an distinct air of accomplishment, and no apparent remorse at all, Rosemary and Anne made rapid repairs to their coiffeurs and attire. Flora told them Jacob and Alistair wanted to have a council of war to decide the next course of action.

A discreet knock on the door warned them this time and the ladies were pleased to received the gentlemen. Soon the five were seated round the table with a cold collation to sustain them after the journey, the emotional reunion, and the canine disaster. Primat insisted to serving them the odd English food, distaining the services of the Missing Key's comely maid, taking each dish from her at the door.

Alistair had difficulty concentrating on the plain but excellent meal. He studied Rosemary, looking so happy now, reunited with her sister. They looked astonishingly alike. Rosemary's smooth cheek was darker, a dusky rose while Anne's was fairer, more like a lily, but otherwise they could be twins. He frowned, not liking the direction his thoughts were taking him. Jacob was speaking, Alistair forced himself to listen.

"...so we need to take the offensive now. Either Cecily or Ralph Verdun has the emerald. Dr. Erskyn, you say this jewel is of vital imortance to the royal family?"

"I swore an oath to a dying lady I would guard it. And I failed. Temporarily," he added in a voice that suddenly reminded Jacob of his commanding officer. "I will not rest till I have retrieved that cursed stone. Let us escort the ladies to safety and then find that ba... er villain and I will..."

His plans remained a mystery as several voices spoke indignantly.

"You cannot mean to abandon us now?"

"It's not Verden! It is that snake Cecily who has the emerald."

"This is the king's business, not a quest for revenge, Erskyn."

Rosemary met Alistair's eyes. She suddenly knew what he had in mind. It was a good plan, but she knew just as surely as if he had spoken, that he would not take the drastic step. Unless she encouraged him. So she drew in her breath and did so.

"There is a way we can determine who has the emerald. And retrieve it. Captain Holt, you said you feared we were under observation. Well, if they are still watching us, let us give them a show to enjoy. You may have remarked upon the resemblance between my sister and me..."

"No!" Alistair snapped out tersely. "I forbid it. If that madwoman gets you in her clutches again there is no telling what she may do."

Rosemary bridled at his presumption as enlightenment dawned on Captain Holt. "It is a good beginning, Mrs. Carlyle. For a plan, I mean. Your sister pretends to be you and departs for Seaforth, a safe enough stronghold, and takes Miss... um, your, uh, ayah with her. I fear, however, that I do not resemble Dr. Erskyn closely enough to be mistaken for him no matter how well-disguised I might be. Unless both of you appear to leave together the gambit will fail."

No sooner had Alistair breathed a sigh of relief that Rosemary would not be placed into any further danger than the little enclave was disturbed by loud voices in the hall. Curses were vented, demands made and repeated, and there could be no mistaking the arrogant tones ringing from the entry hall. Alistair rolled his eyes in disbelief at the incredibly poor timing of his sibling, while Rosemary stiffened and cocked her head to one side.

"Alistair! I mean, Dr. Erskyn. Is not that your brother's voice?"

He strode to the door and yanked it open only to be nearly bowled over by Alexander nearly falling into the room, followed closely by Mariana and Gareth.

"Devil take you, little brother! How do you come here? Where is Kenneth, did he not find you? We've discovered Havershaw's whereabouts and...," Alex broke off, at last spying the two sisters seated together, as well as Jacob and Flora.

Jacob rose slowly, eyes wide with amazement as he perceived the identical features of the twins. Jaw slackened, he turned to Rosemary whose eyes twinkled mischievously.

"I think we have found our pretend-Dr. Erskyn," she confirmed.

"No!" protested Alistair.

"What?" chorused Alex, Gareth, and Mariana in puzzlement.

For the next several minutes as questions were pelted about, the din too loud to for answers to be heard clearly, Rosemary and Anne sat quietly, observing the chaos which seemed to occur whenever the twins were in one another's company. Noting the way Rosemary's gaze softened whenever it landed on Dr. Erskyn, which it did with some frequency, Anne leaned close and whispered, "I like him. I think James will like him also. He will make a very good husband for you, my dear."

Rosemary gasped and shook her head vehemently. "But... but... Anne!"

Anne laughed gently. "You will see," she said wisely, turning her attention back to scene before them just as Alistair ordered "Quiet!" loudly enough to take effect on everyone except Mariana, who was complaining about Gareth's complete lack of chivalry. Gareth was about to answer hotly when Alistair ordered quiet again, with a stern look at the pair.

Alexander clasped his brother's shoulder and muttered softly, "You cannot imagine what it has been like, traveling with this Benedick and Beatrice. Or perhaps I should say Kate and Petruchio, for they have very nearly come to blows today."

"What a good thing they had you to play gooseberry then," his brother retorted for his twin's ears only. "Otherwise they might have been able to make up their differences and been engaged by now!" Then, louder, he added, "Lady Seaforth, may I present my friends, Mr. Gareth Cave and Miss Mariana Atwell. I fear it must be painfully obvious that this commoner in the repellent waistcoat is my brother, Alexander Erskyn."

With introductions and courtesies then being completed all around, Alexander again asked, "But where is Kenneth? He was supposed to find you and..." This time Alex left off speaking at the awful look on his brother's face.

"He found me," Alistair gritted out.

"Did he tell you what he had seen?" The words flew from Mariana, oblivious to Alistair's expression. "Not above half a day's ride after we left you and Mrs. Carlyle at the Fife and Drum, when we were nearing a tollgate, there was a coach and four coming toward us. All over the road it was, too, which made Mr. Cave quite skittish. But Kenneth swore he saw Lord Daventry in the coach and you will never guess who else! That man from the Fife and Drum, Mr. Verten. We could not think why he should be traveling right back in the direction he must have just come from. At any rate, Kenneth said there was some devilry - excuse me, Mr. Cave, that is EXACTLY the word he used! - afoot, and nothing would do but that he must find and warn you."

Alistair absorbed her story, then asked curiously, "What about you, Mariana? Gareth was minding his team, he won't have seen anyone in the coach. But what of you? Did you see anyone?"

"Why, no," she declared. "I was not attending, I was... I was..."

"She was busy minding my business," Mr. Cave declared acerbically. "As if I haven't been driving a team since I was five-and-ten."

Miss Atwell returned a heated rejoinder to the effect that at some point in his driving career he ought to have left off driving mules and learned to drive horses, to which Mr. Cave pointed out that if he had ever had any dealings with mules it would certainly have stood him in good stead when it came to handling stubborn young ladies with more hair than wit.

Alistair fell into a reverie, musing over Mariana's story of what Kenneth had said and what had happened in the croft with the "ghostie." Alexander, not caring for the grim pull to his twin's mouth, tried to coax him out of his black thoughts.

"What were you saying, Mrs. Carlyle, about a pretend-Dr. Erskyn?"

Less than sixty seconds had passed before Alex was made sorry he had asked.

Cecily Tillbury stretched a languid, pale hand out to the dish of confits on the table next to her. She shouldn't eat another, such indulgence would mean ruin for her figure, but she was so dreadfully bored! How much longer would Green keep her waiting? He should know that she wasn't a patient woman and that if he didn't come to her soon, she'd take matters into her own hands. As if in answer to her thoughts, she heard a door slam on the floor below, and then a familiar, heavy tread on the stairs. She dropped the confection back into the dish and arranged the lace a little more revealingly over her generous bosom. She might indeed have her little weaknesses, but the General most certainly had his as well.

But the man who burst into the boudoir was in no mood for dalliance. Cecily caught just a glimpse of his contorted, furious face before Green seized her arms in a cruel grip and began to shake her. "You miserable little thief! What have you done with it?" he snarled.

"Wh... what? Done with what?" His fingers bit more sharply into her soft skin and Cecily gasped, "You're hurting me!"

"Save your theatrics for fools like Daventry - and I'll do more than hurt you, my girl, if you don't give over that emerald at once!"

Cecily wrenched out of his grasp and said icily, "The emerald is in your hands - you insisted it be so. Have you lost it already?"

Green reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and flung a sparkling green jewel at her. "There is the 'emerald' you left with me - did you think I'd not discover it?"

Cecily picked up the jewel and took it over to the candle on her dressing table. She ran her fingers over it, scratched at it gingerly with her fingernail, held it close to the flame, and then flung it down in disgust. "Paste!" she hissed, "This is nothing but paste!"

"Indeed." Green, satisfied that her surprise was genuine, crossed to the table and poured himself a glass of brandy. "Either Erskyn, or your pretty cousin, or perhaps both - are more clever than we thought. I would swear that Erskyn had only this bauble on him when I searched his clothes. They must have the emerald hidden somewhere else."

"But surely neither one of them had time to have this copy made," Cecily protested. "Daventry..."

"Daventry has failed us for what I can assure you is the last time. He should have sent word to me no later than last night that he had captured Erskyn and Mrs. Carlyle. If I find that he still lives, he shall have one of your little drinks to make certain he never fails us again. No, my dear - we have only ourselves to depend on now."

Cecily gave him a calculating glance beneath her long eyelashes. She depended on no one. It was yet to be seen whether she could still make use of this man, or whether it would serve her better to discard him. She swayed against him and let her head fall back to show off the white skin of her throat and shoulders. "Whatever are we to do?" she whispered.

Green laughed and stepped neatly away from her. "We, my dear? You may go to the devil - or to Warburton to explain what's happened - whichever you prefer. I have my own plans and I am afraid they don't include you." As he crossed toward the door he picked up one of the confits and tossed it into this mouth. "You really mustn't have any more of these, my sweet - they're making you quite plump." He barely made it through the door before the brandy decanter smashed against it in a tinkling explosion of crystal.

"... and when I awoke, they'd searched my clothes and taken the emerald. No matter what it costs us we must retrieve it."

Alex, who had sunk his face into his hands as the interminable story of separated sisters, treasonous plots and mysterious villains droned on, suddenly lifted his head. "The what? What is it we must retrieve?"

Alistair, accustomed to his twin's inattention, repeated patiently, "The emerald."

"What emerald?"

A little less patient this time Alistair said, "The emerald you took from me that day at Midculter. I would not tell you where I got it at the time as I believed myself bound by honor to silence. But now..."

Alex let his gaze travel slowly over the assembled company, taking in their serious faces, the fading bruise on Mrs. Carlyle's cheek, Alistair's pallor and utter exhaustion, all of them weary and travel-stained. "Do you mean to tell me that all this havey-cavey nonsense has been for that silly stone?"

Alistair bristled, "Do you call treason silly, Alexander?"

"No, brother mine," Alex said coolly, "I call you a bloody ass."

Jacob Holt shot to his feet, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. "Sir, there are ladies present - your language is hardly..."

Flora's hand tugged gently at his sleeve. "Not now," she whispered, "I think they have forgotten we are here." No one else had moved or spoken, the whole table rapt by the little drama playing out between the twins. Slowly, Holt sank back into this chair, aware that Flora seemed to have not quite withdrawn her hand from his arm. He'd be silent as the grave if it would keep her close to him.

The two identical pairs of blue eyes were fastened intently upon one another. Alistair seemed to take no offense at his brother's insult, only asking, "What do you mean? You had a good look at it."

"Yes," Alex groaned. "I took one look at it and at once said it was a gaudy thing you'd found in some poor idiot's liver. I knew it at once for a cut-glass trifle."

A gasp of surprise rippled around the table, swirling around Alistair who continued to gaze unflinchingly at his brother. "What makes you so certain?"

"This, you great idiot!" Alex fumbled in the frothy lace at his throat and drew out a glittering stick pin. "THIS is an emerald." Alistair took it from him and gazed silently into the gleaming, green depths of the beautiful stone. Its solemn splendor mocked him; there was no comparing the magnificence of the jewel he held with the shallow, tawdry trinket he'd sworn to guard and that had nearly cost him his life. Brandy and despair had blinded him - he'd been so absorbed in his own pain, and so determined to drown it, that he hadn't even looked at the wretched thing. Dragon-slayer? Knight errant? He couldn't manage even to wipe his own nose. His stupidity had blundered them all into terrible peril.

When it seemed the silence could not be borne another moment, Gareth Cave heaved a great sigh and said, "I gather we need a new plan."

The table exploded into furious argument, even the ladies raising their voices to be heard. Only two sat silent as the conversation eddied around them. Rosemary watched Alistair as he continued to turn the stickpin over and over in his hands, his eyes staring unseeing at the sparkling emerald. His head was bent low over his hands, his face pale as death, his mouth set in a grim line. Her own eyes softened as she watched him, and presently she rose, whispered a word to Primat, and then both women slipped out of the room.

"...Miss Atwell, I do not recall asking your opinion..."

"...if I could but get word to the others..."

"...it would be a simple matter to forge..."

Fragments of the conversation floated in and out of Alistair's hearing, but he took no notice. All the foolish thoughts he'd indulged in earlier that day returned to torment him. Had he truly imagined that such a lovely, brave and gentle creature might care for him? Had he been so idiotic as to believe that she could see in him a man worthy of her affection and respect? He was no physician, no healer with the power to restore what had been broken; he was worse than useless - he was a despoiler, destroying everything he touched.

The sudden silence in the room penetrated his consciousness and then he heard Alex whisper, "Jove!"

Primat stood in the doorway, but next to her was another woman of India, clad in the same manner of strange garment. She was much of the same height as the ayah, but the folds of shimmering silk were drawn over her dark head and across her face so that only her eyes could be seen. There was something familiar about her eyes, and then Alistair heard Lady Seaforth gasp, "Why Rosemary! You look splendid!"

Smiling at her sister, Rosemary slipped the silk off her head and said, "If we no longer need to find the emerald, then why should we continue to be the quarry? Should we not be the hunters instead?"

Perhaps still stupified at the sight of an ordinary Englishwoman transformed into an exotic Indian princess, no one said a word. At last Alex spoke, "Say on, Mrs. Carylyle."

"Why can we not draw them to us? I mean, to some place where we might surprise them and overpower them."

"An ambush!" Holt smacked his hand on the table in his excitement. "'Tis a pretty plan, Mrs. Carlyle, you may be the best tactician among us! Once we find the right place, you and Miss Primat will flush them out for us, and lead them right into the trap we set."

"There is a ruined abbey not half a day's ride from here," Flora chimed in, her face sparkling with excitement. "Would that not be a good place?"

Alex nodded, "That would be Finchale Priory. It's on the River Wear - it might serve very well indeed. If you ride north and Miss, um" he stumbled a bit, "Miss Primat rides south, one of you is bound to be seen and followed. These so-called Guardians will know that Miss Primat wants only to be reunited with her dear Mrs. Carlyle, and they will blithely follow as you bring them right to us."

Alistair found his voice at last. "It is monstrous," he said, shaking his head. "The risk is incalculable and I cannot permit..."

"The risk is mine to take, Sir," Rosemary said, more sharply than she had meant to and rebuked, Alistair fell silent again.

Alex clapped his twin on the shoulder and laughed, "Never think we would send these lovelies out alone! One of us will ride with each of them, and will be well-armed to meet any trouble."

Holt furrowed his brow in thought. "I think their escorts must not be either of you two gentlemen, but someone not known to them. Mr. Cave, perhaps?"

"Most gladly," Gareth said, "'twill be far more exciting then sitting here twiddling my thumbs."

Mariana Atwell muttered something under her breath and Flora hastily added, "Then the other escort must be you, Captain Holt. We can take you out of your uniform..."

Holt's shocked face and Alex's whoop of laughter brought a becoming blush to her cheek and she floundered on, "I mean you can go in disguise as... as a coachman or a footman or something. It will have to be a coach you know, no lady could ride in such a garment."

"It is called a sari, Mem," said Primat. "And you are most correct. Ladies do not ride in my country. Unless it is an elephant."

"There you have it then," Alex said. "As there are no elephants in County Durham, we shall have to go by coach. The plan springs full-blown from the head of... well, from the head of all of us, I suppose. But it is very late, and I think no one will ride out tonight."

The November evening had indeed drawn in during their long confabulation, and now a cold wind was blowing down off the moors, making the thought of more travel most unattractive. Cave went out in search of the landlord, who returned at once, so thrilled at the thought of giving bed and board to so many ladies and gentlemen of Quality, that he puffed out his chest like a little pigeon and rubbed his hands and said how pleased he would be to show them up to his best bedchambers.

On the threshold, Jacob Holt turned and said. "Dr. Erskyn, of all of us you need a night's rest, and we shall see that you sleep undisturbed." Turning to Cave and Alexander he asked, "Will you take the watch in turns with me tonight, gentlemen?"

As the door closed behind them, Alistair thought miserably, "He does not think I am capable even of that..."

He heard the rustle of silk behind him and realized that he was not alone. Rosemary Carlyle stood by the fire, the leaping flames making the silk around her shoulders a liquid radiance and striking red highlights in her glossy dark hair. She hesitated a moment and then said, "I am very sorry that I spoke so unkindly to you, Dr. Erskyn. I know that you are only concerned for my welfare, and I thank you for that."

Alistair shook his head and moved away from her. "I had no right. It is I who should beg your pardon for suggesting that I did."

"Surely each one of us has a right to be concerned about a fellow creature. You were only doing your duty."

"My duty!" Alistair laughed harshly, "Mrs. Carlyle, I have failed my duty at every turn. Every miserable thing you have ever heard about me is true."

"There is something else that I know to be true," Rosemary said firmly.

"And what, pray, is that?"

She came a little closer to him, so that she could look up into his haggard face. "I know that you are a skilled physician, and that you did your duty honorably and well there in that crofter's hut. And... and I know that you are a brave man, who risked his own life in order to save mine."

His iron self-control snapped and he whispered, "Oh, my dear, I would lay down my life for you."

He saw her answer written clearly on her face, as if she had spoken her love for him aloud. That answer drew him nearer to her, enchanted by the tenderness in her dark eyes. The crackling fire made the little parlor an oasis of warmth and dim light, shutting out the rest of the world. They were quite close together now, close enough for Alistair to reach out and run his finger across the crimson silk of the sari. "You are very lovely in this," he said, as if still enspelled.

Rosemary smiled, "My poor mother used to forbid me to wear Indian dress. She thought it would be a scandal were anyone to see me in it. But Primat would make saris for me and hide them from my mother. It was very naughty."

For the first time in what seemed like ages, Alistair smiled, too. His hand drifted from the silk up toward her face, and he let his fingertips just brush against her cheek. "Did your mother know you would become such a beauty?"

His gentle touch and the warmth she saw in the depth of his blue eyes made it hard for her to think or speak. "N-no," she whispered. "I am afraid I was a sad disappointment to her."

He knew it was the time to make some gallant comment, to bow her from the room and see her to the safety of the ladies' chamber. He knew that he must not let his fingers trace the delicate skin just beneath her chin, nor lift her face so that her lips came closer to his. He knew that he must not, and yet she made no resistance, only tilted her head a little as if she longed for the kiss as much as he did.

"Rosemary!" Lady Seaforth's voice caroled from abovestairs, "It is very late, my love!"

"Oh!" Startled, Rosemary drew back, and the spell was broken. "I must go... I only wanted to... to beg you pardon..." She was suddenly too shy to even look at him. What must he think of her?

"Of course," Alistair said, and stepped away from her. "I thank you, and most gladly grant you my pardon."

As she crossed to the door, Rosemary drew the folds of silk up over her head again, as if to shield herself from his gaze. She thought that he would not speak again, but just as her hand touched the latch, he said softly, "You have my pardon, my very dear. And know that you have my heart, too."