Arabella’s Point of View

"You weren’t yourself at the table. Did you find anything fishy?" Wymond asked me. We had retired to our room—the one Jones prepared for us.

There was a long pause, as I was wearing a beauty facial mask when he asked the question. I quickly climbed onto the bed when I was done and pulled the blanket up to my chest.

Wymond sighed impatiently.

"Can you answer me now?" he asked.

"Yeah." I leaned against the headboard. "I thought I saw someone like ...