Though Michael's expression was grim, his voice was calm as he brought the child back to the fountain. "It was an accident. We know you didn't mean to injure your sister."

Supporting Jamie in a sitting position, Michael pulled out his handkerchief and soaked it in the fountain. Then he patted the child's contorted face with cool water, all the while keeping up a stream of reassuring words. "You can breathe, Jamie, you've just forgotten how for a minute," he said softly. "Look in my eyes and remember how to breathe. S-1-o-w-l-y in. Relax. Then s-1-o-w-l-y out. Spell the words with me. B-r-e-a-t-h-e, space, i-n… Come on, you can do it."

Catherine watched, mesmerized, as Jamie's lips began silently forming the letters along with Michael. Gradually his breathing evened out and color began to return to his face.

By the time Anne ran from the house with Amy, Catherine had a crude bandage on Molly's head and Jamie was almost back to normal. Anne's face was so pale that faint, ghostly freckles showed on her cheekbones as she said, "Goodness, you two certainly get into a quantity of trouble."

She knelt between her children and pulled them to her. Jamie burrowed against her side and wrapped his arms around her waist. Molly also snuggled as close as she could get.

In the sudden silence, hoofbeats sounded clearly. A moment later, Charles Mowbry called from outside the stable, "Trouble?"

"A little," Anne replied, relief on her face. "Molly cut her head and Jamie had an attack, but everything is fine now."

As Catherine got to her feet, she saw Charles and Colin coming toward them, their scarlet coats brilliant against the grass. They had had a regimental drill today, she recalled.

Charles arrived first, his expression under, control, except for his stark eyes. When he reached his family, he bent and lifted Jamie, hugging him tightly. "You all right, old man?"

"I couldn't breathe, but Colonel Kenyon reminded me how," his son offered. "Then it was easy."

"That was good of him," Charles said huskily. "Will you remember how to do it yourself next time?"

Jamie nodded vigorously.

Anne and Molly got to their feet. Charles smoothed his daughter's hair, careful not to disturb the blood-soaked bandage. "I know you don't like this dress, but wouldn't it be better to get rid of it by ripping rather than bleeding?"

A smile lit her teary face. "Oh, Papa, you're so silly."

Concealing a smile, Catherine wondered what the men in Charles's company would think if they heard that.

"Time to get you two inside and cleaned up." Anne gave Catherine and Michael a heartfelt glance. "Thank you both for being here."

As the Mowbrys headed to the house, Catherine put an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "Amy was splendid, Colin. She tended to Molly's injury, then went to get Anne."

"You're like me and your mother," he said approvingly.

"A good soldier and a good nurse." He glanced at Catherine. "Can I take Amy for an ice as a reward for bravery?"

It was really too close to dinner, but Amy had earned a treat, and she had seen little of her father lately. "Fine, but Amy, change your dress first. Have a maid put it in a bucket of cold water so the blood doesn't set."

Amy nodded and bounced off with her father.

Alone with Michael, Catherine sank onto the rim of the fountain and buried her face in her hands for a moment. "Please excuse me while I have hysterics."

"I'll join you." Wearily he settled onto the fountain beside her. "It's always worst when the crisis is over, isn't it?"

"I turn into quivering aspic every time." She tried to laugh. "Family life requires nerves of steel."

"Your husband was right, though. Amy behaved splendidly."

"Isn't she amazing? I used to wonder if it was wrong to take her to the Peninsula, but she thrived on it." Catherine smiled wryly. "She's like her father that way. I'm more of a cowardly homebody myself."

"You may think so," he said, warm affection in his voice, "but if I ever need nursing, I hope you're available."

She glanced away before her eyes could reveal too much. "And you're a good man to have around during domestic disasters, of which we have had mote than our share lately. Fire, blood, asthma. Anne was right that the attacks are terrifying."..

"They feel even worse, like iron bands around the lungs. The harder you try to breathe, the less air you take in. The worst part is the panic, which can destroy every shred of sanity and control you have. I remember doing exactly what Jamie, did-running till I dropped, then getting up and running again as soon as I could stagger to my feet." He grimaced. "How do Anne and Charles stand it? It must be ghastly to see your child struggling to breathe."

"They do it because they have to, just as your parents did."

"They were cut from different cloth," he said dryly. "In fact, most of my attacks were triggered by my father. When I had one in my mother's presence, she left me to the care of the nearest maid. The sight was too distressing for one of her delicate constitution." The planes of his face hardened. "If I hadn't been shipped off to Eton, I probably wouldn't have made it to my tenth birthday."

Catherine winced. "I see why you never mention your family."

"There isn't much to say." He trailed his fingers through the fountain, then flicked a few drops of water at Louis, who was snoozing at his feet again. "If my father had to choose between being God and being Duke of Ashburton, he would ask what the difference is. My mother died when I was thirteen. She and my father despised each other. Amazing that they produced three children, but I suppose they felt obliged to keep going until they had an heir and a spare. My sister, Claudia, is five years older than I. We scarcely know each other and prefer it that way. My brother Stephen is Marquess of Benfield and heir to the noble Ashburton title and extravagant Kenyon wealth. We know each other a little, which is rather more than either of us wants to."

His expressionless words sent a shiver up her spine. She remembered what he had said about how he and his Fallen Angel friends had become a family because they had all needed one. With sudden passion, she wished she had the right to take him in her arms and make up for everything he had been denied.

Instead, she said, "I've always regretted not having a brother or sister. Perhaps I was lucky."

"If you like, you can borrow Claudia and Benfield. I guarantee that within two days you'll be thanking your lucky stars for being an only child."

"How did you survive?" she asked quietly.

"Sheer stubbornness."

She rested her hand on his for a moment, trying to wordlessly convey her sympathy, and her admiration for the strength that had enabled him to endure. Instead of bitterness, he had learned compassion.

He laid his other hand over hers, enfolding her fingers. They did not look at each other.

She was acutely aware of the long length of his leg only inches, away from hers. It would be so natural to lean forward and press her lips to his cheek. He would turn and his mouth would meet hers…

With horror, she recognized how close she had come to the fire. She lifted her hand away, knotting her fingers into a fist to prevent herself from caressing him. Her voice was distant in her own ears when she asked, "When did you outgrow the asthma?"

There was a brittle pause before he said, "I don't know if one ever really does completely-I've, had several mild attacks as, an adult-but there were very few after the age of thirteen." His face tightened. "The worst one took place at Eton. That time I knew-absolutely knew-I was going to die."

"What triggered it?"

"A letter from my father." Michael rubbed his temple, as if he could erase the memory. "It informed me that my mother had died suddenly. There was a strong implication of… good riddance." He closed his eyes and took several deep, slow breaths. "The attack began' immediately and I collapsed, wheezing like a blown plow horse. There's something particularly horrible about dying fully conscious but helpless, unable to move. Luckily my friend Nicholas's room was next door and he heard me. He came and talked me through it, as I did with Jamie. The trick is to break through the victim's panic and get him to concentrate on breathing successfully."

Surprised, she said, "Your friend must be about your age. Did he know what to do because he had asthma also?"

Michael smiled a little. "There has always been something a little magical about Nicholas. He's half Gypsy and knowledgeable in their traditional ways of healing.- He taught us all how to whisper horses and tickle fish from a stream."

Glad to see his expression ease, she said, "It sounds as if he has been a good friend to you."

The words must have been a mistake, for Michael's clasped hands went rigid, the tendons showing in the wrists. "He has. Better than I have been to him." He shook his head. "Lord, why am I telling you all this?"

She hoped it was because she was special to him. "Because you know I care, and that I will honor your confidence."

"Perhaps that is the reason." Not looking at her, he said quietly, "I'm glad to have met you, Catherine. When I think of Brussels in the future, I might forget the balls and the rumors and the frantic gaiety, but I will always remember you."

The air between them seemed to thicken, becoming so palpable she feared he must be able to feel the beating of her heart. Haltingly she said, "Your friendship means a great deal to me, too."