"The tides move not by force, but by pull, quiet, steady, and impossible to resist.”
"Mrs Montclair's POV.
It's been three days, and I haven't heard from Sinclair, I don't want to either.
I have taken to spending the afternoon in my study away from the rigors of the household trying to get my mind off everything. The whole plan is soiled, thanks to Miss Goody Two-Shoes.
This time I don't have a book open, I am seated on a reclining chair a small footstool beneath my leg. And my throbbing head lay back on the comfortable fur of the headrest. Thinking and composed but boiling.
When there is a knock on the door, at first I think it's the housekeeper coming to ask about dinner arrangements or some other trivialities I couldn't care less about.
"Come in," I say without opening my ey
