The night had grown warmer in the past couple of hours, and the window was thrown wide open in an attempt to draw any kind of breeze in, but there was none. The scent of the roses in the courtyard below was heavy and sweet, drifting up from the gardens to sit sluggishly in the room. Tanya lay on top of the bedclothes, in thin pajamas that were turned inside out. They were sticking to her uncomfortably. She was wide awake, though this had less to do with the heat and more to do with what Fabian had told her earlier in the evening. In addition, Warwick had fixed the grandfather clock on the landing once more; for all night its mocking chimes had kept her awake while reminding her of how little sleep she was likely to get. The last set of chimes had marked two o’clock in the morning, and she knew that even if she got to sleep now it would only be about four hours before Amos woke her. Her skin crawled at the thought of him, shuffling about on the floor above muttering to himself and goodness knew what else.
