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“William Cecil was waiting by the fire when I came home.” Seven went eerily still. “He’s the scariest grandfatherly person I’ve ever met,” I continued, reaching for the wine again. “Burghley may look like Father Christmas, with his gray hair and beard, but I wouldn’t turn my back on him.” “That’s very wise,” Seven said quietly. He regarded Françoise. “What did he want?” She shrugged. “I do not know. He was here when I came home with madame’s pork pie. Lord Burghley asked for wine. That daemon drank everything in the house earlier today. I went out for more.” Seven disappeared. He returned at a more sedate pace, looking relieved. I shot to my feet. The attics—and all the secrets hidden there. “Did he—” “No,” Seven interrupted. “Everything is exactly as I left it. Did William say why
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