And I saw his eyelids flutter shut. He looked adorable with his eyes closed, almost like a child asleep, his eyelashes unfairly long for a man’s. I leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“Damn Siegfried,” I muttered, even though a lady never swears.

My own eyes were drifting shut, lulled by Darcy’s rhythmic breathing, when a terrible clattering sound, accompanied by an unearthly scream, jerked me awake. It sounded as if somebody had thrown every pot and pan in the castle down a flight of stairs. I leaped out of bed.

“What was that?” I asked.

Darcy opened his eyes lazily.

“Probably a servant dropped a tray of dishes. Go back to sleep.”

“No, it was worse than that,” I said. I grabbed the nearest cardigan, reached for my slippers and went out into the dark hallway. It seemed that the sound was loud enough to have woken other people. Siegfried was standing there, looking like a ghost in his long nightshirt. Oh, God, imagine facing that specter every night.

“Georgiana, mein Schatz, did you hear that noise?”

“I did.”

“Do not worry. I shall protect you,” he said, moving forward cautiously.

From below came shouts. Siegfried and I made our way to the nearest staircase.

A group had already gathered at the bottom of the spiral stair. They were bending over what looked like a suit of armor.

“Who can have knocked one of our suits of armor down the stairs?” Siegfried demanded. “What is happening here?”

The servants stood reverently at the sound of their master’s voice.

“Highness, I heard the noise and came running,” one of them said. “It appears that—”

He never finished the sentence, as a loud moan came from within the armor. Someone wrenched the visor open and a very human pair of eyes looked up at us. And the occupant groaned again.

“What is the meaning of this?” Siegfried demanded. “What foolery were you playing?”

“I was ordered to keep watch,” the man said, his face twisted in pain. “Chief Patrascue set me on guard duty. He told me to disguise myself in this way.”

“Ridiculous man,” Siegfried snapped. “He had no right. These suits of armor are precious state heirlooms, not to be worn like carnival costumes.”

“My leg,” the man groaned. “Get me out of this contraption.”

Just as they were extracting him with care a figure in black came flying toward us.

“What has just transpired?” the newcomer asked. He peered down at the suit of armor. “Cilic, is that you?”

“Yes, my chief, it is I,” the man said.

“What are you doing down there?” Patrascue asked. I told you he wasn’t very bright.

“I missed my footing and I fell,” the man said, then groaned loudly again for maximum effect. “It is hard to see, wearing one of these visors.”