The storm had fallen in the dark, rattling windows and rattling Alexander's mansion's tall glass panes until dawn crept over it. The morning air was serenely quiet, redolent with the smell of water-logged earth. The gardens sparkled with dew, the marble floors glowed with the light of the morning sun, and the whole house seemed wrapped in a tender peace.

Peace, though, was the last thing on Amelia's mind.

She sat at the big dinner table, gazing down at an unbroken plate of breakfast. A silver ...