CHAPTER EIGHT:
The dress was already laid out on the bed when Lyra came out of the shower — black, simple, the kind of expensive that didn't announce itself. She hadn't picked it. Rosa hovered near the door with an expression that was trying hard to be neutral and not quite managing it.
"Mr. Voss has guests tonight," Rosa said. "He'd like you to join."
"Would he like it, or does he expect it?"
Rosa's mouth twitched — not quite a smile. "With him, ma'am, there's rarely a difference."
Lyra dressed anyway. Not because she'd been told to. Because she wanted to see who came through that door badly enough to make Dimitri clear his own schedule for them.
There were three of them, seated already by the time she came down — the study doors thrown open, the long table set with more silver than
