Seeming confused by the kind words from one she obviously considered an adversary, Miss Dunston blushed and shook her head before nodding. “I am well, thank you.”
“Good." Penelope turned to Lord Harford, smiling in an artless way. “Cousin, do let me have a sip of your drink. I asked the footman to bring me something, but I shall faint from thirst before he ever finds me.” She took note of the amount that had been consumed, then took a sip from the glass, grimacing at the state. She glanced at her cousin, then cried in dismay as she tilted the glass to allow the contents to fall on the floor. ‘How clumsy of me! How fortunate your footman comes now."
Harford gave her a quizzical look, even as he began to notice a most peculiar sensation creeping over him.
Penelope swiftly took the glass of milk from the tray proffered by the puzzled footman, thrusting it into Lord Harford’s hand with a terse command to drink it. Then she requested the servant mop up the spill as soon as possible.
By now Harford felt obliged to place a hand on Penelope’s shoulder for lack of a column to lean against. “I feel dashed queer,” he muttered in her ear. Thinking she had taken leave of her senses, yet unable to resist her direction, he obediently drank most of the honeyed milk.
Penelope took the glass from him, polishing off the remainder, then requested the footman bring more.
At Penelope’s precipitate action, Miss Dunston had turned deathly pale and begun to back away from them. She glanced about her, then said, “I see my mother beckoning. I had best go.”
Penelope gave her a frustrated look before admonishing, “If you think to escape lightly, you are foolish beyond permission, my girl.” She watched Miss Dunston flee to her mother’s side before turning to Lord Harford.
“What is happening? I feel bloody peculiar.”
“I have a notion, my lord. Something your mother said earlier gave me a suspicion of the girl. I fear she is dangerously unbalanced; more than a little peculiar, as your mother put it. Unless I miss my guess, she put a bit of henbane in your wine, hoping God only knows what. Had you consumed that entire glass, you would have undoubtedly failed to be with us on the morrow.”
Harford allowed Penelope to nudge him down onto a chair while he sorted out his thoughts. “Poison? Egads!”
When the footman appeared with the two more glasses of sweetened milk, Penelope silently offered one to Lord Harford, who obediently consumed the contents. She drank the second glass. The footman backed away, his confusion at the odd behavior of her ladyship’s son and guest obvious.
“I am glad my intuition led me to act. She behaved quite out of character. Do you wish to rest? I believe we might quietly leave the room so you could recover in peace.”
He nodded his agreement. Once they had found the sanctuary of a small anteroom that was unoccupied, he studied his surprising cousin. “How did you know what it was, and how to combat its effect?”
“Miss Nilsson taught me to distinguish the beneficial herbs from the dangerous ones. Henbane is often used in small quantities for a purgative. It is also a narcotic, like opium, and will induce sleep. Miss Nilsson explained that in Sweden they have found it can be very dangerous if not used with care. A little too much, and death can result.” A wry smile crept over her face. “In some countries it is used in love potions, for it produces a strange effect on the senses. Doubtless Miss Dunston knew of this, but was careless in her dose."
“A love potion? Good grief. My mouth feels dry and my heart has been beating in the most peculiar way.” He rubbed his forehead as though dizzy.
Penelope refrained from commenting that her heart usually beat in an odd manner when she was near him, and she hadn’t taken any herbal love potions, either. “Rest, and it should pass before long. I shall close this door when I leave, so you’ll not be disturbed.”
“What about you?” He gave her an alarmed look.
“I spit out that sip I tasted, and took the precaution of drinking some milk.” With those words Penelope slipped away from the room, thankful her cousin was to be fine and that she had been able to use the knowledge Miss Nilsson had so diligently poured into her head over the years spent wandering about the estate and developing her herbal garden.
Seeing a footman in the hall, she requested he stay with his lordship until he felt more the thing.
When she returned to the ballroom, she searched the room to discover that Miss Dunston was no longer present. Upon asking Lady Harford about the missing guest, she was not terribly surprised at her answer.
“Miss Dunston? La, that puzzling child left merely minutes ago. I pity her poor mother, to manage a husband for that girl. She really is the strangest creature.”
Deciding not to upset her ladyship in the middle of her daughter’s come-out ball, Penelope murmured agreement, then strolled along the edge of the room until claimed by Lord Stephen for a cotillion.
It was not until the next day, when summoned to appear at Harford House on Mount Street, that an explanation of all that had happened was demanded of her. Penelope explained everything, and Lady Harford exploded.
“It is infamous that chit be allowed to go free. Why, she might have killed Jonathan!”
“And who knows what she will do next?” gently inserted Penelope, quite in harmony with Lady Harford.
It was decided to approach Mrs. Dunston instantly with the charge. When told of her daughter’s action, that good lady nearly fainted, promising to remove her daughter from London at once and seek help for her.
The drive back to Harford House was depressingly silent. Thinking of herbal potions had brought the matter of Miss Nilsson to
