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A light knock on my door disturbed my toilette. When I opened it, Cad, dressed in riding gear, was leaning against the jamb. The smile in his eyes as he stepped inside did a better job of warming me than any scarf.

“I have to go to Wadebridge yet again this morning,” he said as I nestled into his arms, “but I wanted to kiss you before I left.” He bent his head toward me, and then drew back slightly, his fingers reaching for my oddly arranged scarf. “What on earth is going on here?”

“I am fighting back against the English climate. Now are you going to kiss me or just criticise my dress sense?”

It was some time later when, all thought of scarves forgotten, he finally raised his head and asked suspiciously, “Dita, are you just using me as a way of keeping warm?” When I nodded and snuggled closer, he laughed. Reluctantly, he let me go. “I will be back in time for lunch,” he promised, and, scooping up his high-crowned hat and his cane with its chunky onyx handle, left me alone but feeling considerably less cold.

I made my way down to breakfast, pausing on the stairs as a metallic gleam caught my eye. Stooping, I picked up a small key that lay against one of the stair risers. It was a serviceable item, the sort that belonged in a padlock or cash box. It was clearly also quite new. I tucked it into my pocket, intending to hand it over to Porter when I saw him.

I breakfasted alone, my thoughts turning relentlessly toward Sandor. I had expected to hear from him by now, offering me an exchange. Eleanor’s return for my capitulation. The fact that he had not yet contacted me made me wonder if I might be wrong. Could he have genuinely wanted Eleanor, after all? Was I finally free of him? I could not allow myself to hope it was true.

I was just preparing to leave the room, when Tynan entered. Snowflakes were turning to droplets in his hair and he shrugged out of his wet greatcoat. I had half risen from my seat, but one look at his face made me sink back down again. With a feeling of dread, I waited for him to speak.

“I have been with Inspector Miller down in Athal Cove. Prepare yourself for a shock, my dear,” Tynan said gently. Would there ever dawn a day at Tenebris when those words were not spoken? “Karol did not leave here as we believed. His body was washed up in the cove early this morning.”

“Dear Lord.” My hand shook as I mechanically reached for my empty teacup. “All this time we have been thinking he eloped with Eleanor, but in reality he drowned?”

“No, he didn’t drown,” Tynan told me slowly. A dark, impenetrable cloud of anxiety drifted over his fine features. “His throat had been cut.” I would do anything for you, bouche. Never doubt it. Why was I hearing Cad’s words ringing in my ears?

I gazed at Tynan in growing horror. The idea that was forming in my mind was too awful to be considered. “But if Sandor never left here…” I put a hand to my throat, sickened at the images that were crowding in on me.

Tynan finished the question for me. “Where is Eleanor?” We both swung round as a stifled exclamation from Eddie, who had just stepped into the room, drew our attention to his ashen face. I thought for an instant that he was about to pass out, and I hurried over to him. He leaned gratefully against me and I guided him to a chair.

“Miller is already trying to discover the answer to that question.” Tynan said. His own eyes were haunted by the unspoken fear we all shared. “Where is Cad?”

“He set off early for Wadebridge,” I answered. “I saw him as he left,” I added quickly, and then bit my lip at my own foolishness. Nobody cared how I knew where he was. Nothing mattered now but Eleanor.

“I must go to Lucy,” Tynan said. He lowered his voice to add quietly to me, “Take care of Eddie, please, Dita. And if you should see Cad on his return, ask him to come straight to me. I can’t believe he had anything to do with these murders, but it is clear he suspects more than he has so far been prepared to tell.”

I sat back at the table and took Eddie’s hands in mine. He returned my clasp and made a pathetic attempt to smile at me. It went wrong in the middle and became a twisted, tearful grimace. “When we were children, she loved to enact the stories of old Cornish legends. Her favourite character was Guinevere, because of her beauty and goodness. Cad found that unutterably dull, because, according to legend, Cador was Guinevere’s guardian and protector. He would rather act out battle scenes and fights. So Eleanor would make me into Lancelot and I had to perform heroic deeds to prove my undying love for her—King Arthur’s lovely queen. Lancelot was her lover and her champion. In our games, I rescued her from every imaginable danger. But I can’t rescue her from this, Dita.”

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