After running through all the items in the bathroom, including checking the shampoo to see if it had a false bottom, I returned to the bedroom and sat on the end of the bed. I could play the seduction game again but I doubted he’d fall for it after walking in on Jamie and me. I wasn’t entirely sure I could stay in control in that kind of situation either. I needed to be sneakier.

I might have failed miserably at hiding out and spying on Byron at the Astor but if he really thought I was dead, he wouldn’t be expecting me here.

I sniffed my armpits. After my climb, I was definitely on the whiffy side. Not wanting my own smell to give me away, I grabbed his bottle of (surprisingly cheap) aftershave and daubed myself with it. I rather liked it. Maybe I’d keep it. Without thinking, I stuffed the bottle into one of my pockets. Then I smoothed down the sheets to remove all traces of my presence and scooted under the bed. I rather hoped he’d take his time returning. I could do with a little nap.

I was dozing off when the door slammed open. I just managed to stop myself from banging my head painfully as I jerked up. Close call.

‘Fuck!’ There was another bang. It was definitely Byron. He thumped something else. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’

Was he upset because he’d realised there wasn’t a body – charred or otherwise – inside the grove and I’d escaped? Or was he upset because he thought I was dead and he now had no way of restoring the Foinse?

I watched his feet stomp about, up one way and down another, over and over again. Considering the size of the room, I thought he’d get dizzy after a few turns but he just kept stomping and turning.

Eventually – and scant seconds before I thought I was going to go insane from watching his feet – there was a hesitant knock on the door. Byron flung it open with such force that it banged against the wall. If the castle hadn’t been made of stone, the ensuing vibrations would have been felt floors below.

‘What?’ he snapped.

I twisted my head, peering at the new set of shoes which had appeared. I was still trying to work out who they belonged to when the nervous cough enlightened me.

‘The Steward asked me to inform you…’

‘Of what?’ There was a strained urgency to Byron’s voice.

Jamie dropped the formality. I was glad. Regardless of what else was going on here, it didn’t seem fair for him to lose one of his friends just because of a quick shag based on post-traumatic desire. ‘Byron,’ he said, ‘she’s not there. Integrity’s not in the grove.’