‘I can see that you are once again doubting my choices.’

Ingrid’s hands began to bunch the fabric of her skirt up so tight in her fists that it looked as though she might claw through her skin. ‘I don’t think she deserves it,’ she finally spat out, her mouth closing quickly to lock in anything else that might spill over.

Occasionally Ingrid was able to say the right thing; it was rare, and usually unintentional, but nonetheless it pleased Claude immensely when he was able to coax her into doing what he wanted, especially when she believed it was her idea.

The truth, of course, was that Claude had no intention of giving them the chance to make amends, but it was important that his followers believed him to be a benevolent and forgiving master.

‘I agree – she might not deserve it,’ Claude said, and his lips twisted at Ingrid’s whiplash response. Like putty in his hands, she softened so easily, and her fingers uncurled. ‘I do not do this because she deserves it. I am doing it to prove our point.’

As if on cue, his valet set down two cups of coffee between them. Gently pushing one towards Ingrid, Claude signalled for her to join him, knowing the gesture would be the last bit of bait to reel her in. ‘Once she knows the truth about her family, and she inevitably chooses to side with them, Jamie will come to us of his own free will.’

Ingrid swallowed down the bitter coffee and the effect was instant. Her eyes widened like a cat focusing on her prey, and that impulse was precisely what Claude needed to keep in check.

‘I am giving you a chance too, Ingrid,’ he began, and, from the way her lips parted in hunger, he knew she needed a reminder that his favour would not be easily won back. ‘Not because I think you deserve it, but because you still have lessons to learn.’

As expected, she flinched, the words getting the message across without alienating her.

‘Now, if Jamie should choose to come to me, what will you do to fix the awful impression you’ve made that has not only damaged your relationship with him but mine too?’

Ingrid’s shoulders lifted, and she shrank in on herself.

‘I’ll be good.’ Her voice was barely above a whisper. ‘I’ll be quiet and stay out of the way. I can do that.’

That was not the answer that Claude wanted.