Chapter 4: The Locked Drawer

Calla came home on Saturday, and the whole staff lined up in the front hall to welcome her.

There were eleven of them, in two rows, with the housekeeper at the head and the cook at the tail holding a tray of lemon cake.

Yvette stood at the foot of the staircase with Calla's bag and a glass of water on a small silver tray.

Alaric came in last, through the front door, shaking rain from his coat.

He nodded to the housekeeper and bent to kiss his sister's hair.

He did not look at Yvette.

That suited her fine.

She had a plan, and the plan needed an audience.

"Mr. Stoughton," she said, and stepped into his path with the tray.

He stopped.

The room went quiet at once.

"You look tired, sir," she said. "I took the liberty."

He looked at the glass and did not take it.

Yvette set one finger against the rim and turned the glass so the handle faced him.

Then she let her hand slide forward until her fingertips were on the back of his.

"I could stay up with you tonight," she said, low enough that only the front rows could hear, "if the work runs late."

Somebody coughed.

The cook stared hard at the lemon cake.

Alaric's hand did not move. He did not pull away, and he did not turn it over.

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