Vanessa hated to be kept waiting, especially when she had something urgent to do. She had ignored Secretary Mando’s text, shifting her appointment and decided to come to the mansion herself. She was let in by the maids that already knew her as the regular guest of the Dales.

She sat on the velvet sofa of the drawing room, ankles delicately crossed, fingers curled around the handle of her tiny bone-china teacup as though it were a fragile piece of art. The tea had long since gone cold.

She ...