Clearly relishing their absorption, Cassia waited until all eyes were squarely on her. “Why, he practices his swing.” Pretending she had something in her hand, Cassia brought it up and then slashed down in a wide arc, coming near her audience.

The young women—Myrtle included—emitted like shrieks and jumped.

“He’s killed servant after servant, taking his rage out on his staff. And when he’s done”—her sister paused—“he feeds them to his wolf.”

Myrtle wrinkled her nose.

His wolf?

“A wolf?” Linnie asked incredulously.

Cassia nodded and pointed.

Despite herself and her annoyance at her sister’s over-the-top storytelling, Myrtle found herself craning her neck around her kin and following Cassia’s extended finger.

Sure enough, engrossed as she’d been in the towering stranger, Myrtle had failed to note the enormous wolf at his side.

She cocked her head.

It really was . . . a wolf. Or at the very least, an enormous dog.

“Why would he do that?” Myrtle asked her sister. “Why would a duke kill his servants?”

Cassia lifted both palms faceup. “Because no one would notice if a servant is offed. Other peers’ absences would be remarked upon.” She dropped her voice again. “But a servant who’s gone missing will not earn proper notice, and as such, he keeps his victims to the servant station.”

“That is rude,” Myrtle said, even as she hugged herself tightly.

She realized what she’d done and swiftly let her arms fall.

“Not even his mounts are spared from his wrath,” Cassia said in that same haunting way. Myrtle’s sister looked out again toward the courtyard belonging to their neighbor. “They say he enters the stables daily and takes his annoyance out on the horses and practices his swing.” Once again, she slashed her arm back and forth in a wide arc.

Oh, this was really enough. Myrtle rolled her eyes. “That is a lot of claptrap. Who says that?”

A frown formed on Cassia’s lips, her disapproval at having her story challenged stamped on her face. “People.”

“Which people?” Myrtle pressed.

“Lots of them,” her sister snapped.

“Lots of nameless people?” Myrtle snorted. “And unknown victims?” Yes, the more she heard, the more it sounded a good deal like there’d been offended sensibilities on her family’s part. “You should stick with the first part of your telling. The part about the horses is where it veers entirely off course. Everyone knows British gentlemen favor their horses and dogs more than they do people.”

Cassia lifted her left shoulder in a dismissive little shrug. “Say whatever you wish to make yourself feel better.”

“Casssssia!” Their mother’s voice came from the hall. A moment later, the countess appeared in the doorway. She beckoned with a single hand. “I must speak with you about the travel arrangements for tomorrow.”