‘Fiammis, Contesse of Tal’mont.’ She held out one gloved hand. ‘I have no appointment.’ It was a statement, not an apology. A trace of a foreign accent subtly coloured her speech.

‘How can I help you?’

She sat opposite him, placing the frilled parasol she was carrying across her lap.

‘We will not be disturbed?’

Mesmerised, he shook his head.

‘You have a daughter, Dr Magelonne?’

‘Orial.’ Jerame felt a slight unease; he had been expecting the Contesse to make discreet enquiries about the treatments he had to offer. Wealthy women frequently came to the Sanatorium hoping for a cure for infertility or the removal of some unsightly skin blemish. Over the centuries, the Sulien waters had gained a miraculous reputation.

‘I don’t like to interfere in your personal affairs, Doctor, but are you aware that she has been regularly visiting Amaru Khassian?’

‘Amaru Khassian?’ At first he was too astonished by the information to wonder why she had taken it upon herself to impart it to him.

‘I see that you were unaware of this.’

Orial had deliberately disobeyed him! She must have been taking music lessons with the composer – and in doing so, had unknowingly exposed herself to the very danger from which he had sought to shield her. Dear Goddess, what damage might she have unwittingly inflicted upon herself?

He made an effort to collect his thoughts.

‘Why have you come here to tell me this?’

‘Because I believe Khassian is plotting some kind of insurrection, using Sulien as his base. He is a wanted man, Doctor Magelonne.’

Magelonne blinked, pushing his spectacles higher up the bridge of his nose as if to see the Contesse more clearly. This elegant stranger could have no idea of the reason for his distress; who – save Tartarus and Jolaine – knew of the dangers of the Accidie?

‘Now, wait. How can I be sure you are telling me the truth, Contesse? What precisely have you to gain from telling me? For all you know, my sympathies might already lie with Khassian’s cause. What’s to stop me going to warn him?’

‘Your daughter’s wellbeing.’

He gazed at her in disbelief. She was still smiling; a self-composed, calm smile that belied the threat in her words.

‘You’re threatening my daughter?’

‘I am merely informing you of the facts, Doctor.’ She stood up, shaking out the frills of her parasol. ‘Act upon them as you see fit.’

He sat down at his desk again, dumbfounded. His neat writing in the open ledger no longer made any sense as he stared at it, through it.

Orial – visiting Amaru Khassian? Was Khassian the secret suitor who had brought such a becoming flush to her cheeks, who had caused her to lie and dissemble?

No. He slammed the ledger shut. It must be a mistake. She was helping Jolaine Tradescar – she had told him so.