Monday: The scamp. Robert had spent too many evenings in London listening to Helen tease and reprove her husband, while Gunthar let her tweak him to her heart’s content.
Tuesday: The darkness muffled Robert’s voice, or perhaps it only sounded thus through the smothering tightness in Gunthar’s chest.
Wednesday: She thought for the briefest instant that Strode’s lips twitched away from his teeth in the glimmer of a snarl before the smile settled again.
Thursday: His cold eyes lifted and gazed into Marguerite’s with such malicious satisfaction that she knew. Robert had been among the fallen.
Friday: Her mind raced to Sarah with a horror for her friend’s grief that Marguerite would not have comprehended an hour ago.