The moment Philip was gone, Daemon went to his room and swiftly changed his clothes. Wilhelmina was with Graff having her lessons; Cook was in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea and starting to plan the lunch menu; and the servants were bustling about doing their various chores. There was only one person left.

Daemon whistled a cheery little tune as he headed for the private alcove to spend a pleasant morning with his Lady.

He had prowled the gardens, prowled the house, slipped in and out of the stableyard, checked the Craft library, and finally stood in the nursery wing feeling frustrated and concerned. He simply couldn’t find her. He had even checked her room, tapping quietly on the door in case she was resting or wanted some privacy. When there’d been no answer, he had slipped into the room for a cursory look.

Daemon caught his lower lip between his teeth and listened to Graff scolding Wilhelmina. He’d wondered why that harsh and not terribly educated woman was teaching Craft to a young witch from such a powerful family until he’d learned that Robert Benedict had hired her. Since Wilhelmina wasn’t directly related to Leland and Alexandra, Robert’s preference had overruled their objections. Daemon conceded that Graff was a good choice if a man’s intention was to have a girl’s sensibilities about what she was and the power she contained mangled to such an extent that she would never find any joy in the Craft or in herself. Yes, Graff was an excellent choice to bruise a young girl’s ego and make her susceptible to more intimate brutality when she got a little older.

Daemon approached the classroom to see if Jaenelle might possibly be there at the same time Graff yelled, “You’re worthless this morning. Absolutely worthless. You call that Craft? Go on. The lesson’s over. Go do something useless. That you can manage. GO!”

Wilhelmina flew out the door and barreled into him. Daemon caught her by the shoulders, planting his feet to keep them both upright. She gave him a shaky smile of thanks.

“So, you’re free,” Daemon said, smiling in return. “Where’s—”

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Wilhelmina said in a loud, commanding voice. “Help me practice my duet.” She turned toward the music room.

“First tell me where—”

Wilhelmina stepped back and planted her heel squarely on Daemon’s toes. Hard. He grunted from the pain but said nothing because Graff was now standing in the doorway, watching them closely.

Wilhelmina stepped aside. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” Without waiting for an answer, she hauled him toward the music room. “Come on, I want to practice.”

Once they reached the music room, she went to the piano and started digging through the music for the duet she was learning. “You can play the bass part,” she said as she placed her hands on the keys.

Daemon limped to the bench and sat down. “Miss Wil—”

Wilhelmina hit the keys, drowning him out. She continued for a few bars and then turned to him and said accusingly, “You’re not playing.”