It was worse. —FROM THE DIARY OF FREDERICA WELLS Freddie’s room was a floor below his, the door standing conveniently open so he wouldn’t need a battering ram. She, however, was nowhere to be seen. He called her name, but there was no reply. Feeling somewhat foolish and extremely naked, he looked behind curtains and under the untouched bed for her. A candle flickered on her desk, revealing that she had been laboring over their contract. Her handwriting was scrupulously legible, fitting for the daughter of a secretary. He noted June the first as the date Goddard Castle was to be transferred to her. “Devil take it,” he muttered. Was she playing a trick on him again? Did she think she’d somehow avoid his embrace by frightening him to death and running away? He was about to pick up the candle and expand his search when he heard a little gasp. “Sebastian! What are you doing here? It’s not yet midnight.” Freddie stood on the threshold, arms folded over her chest, her long hair in the two neat schoolgirl braids he remembered.
