‘Listen, Simon. Please put that down and listen to me. I understand why you do not wish for him to inherit your practice – that would be, well, I understand your objections. You did him a great kindness in giving him your name. But you must give him something more!’ He tries to screen his face with his hand but she sets her tea down by Morpheus and goes over to him. ‘Please, Simon. Apprentice him to someone else, send him from Bath. I know you do not have a vast fortune …’

‘His mother saw to that,’ he laughs bitterly. ‘Even before the separation.’

‘I know, I know. But none of it is his fault. He is fond of you, he believes you are his parent, and you avoid the boy.’

Simon’s watery blue eyes do not focus on her, kneeling beside his chair, but on the bookshelf, as if it were telling the story of his pain. ‘It was difficult,’ he croaks. ‘His father … I did try. But his father was stamped on his face the moment I delivered him.’

‘You saved the whole family by marrying Constance. None of us are in danger of forgetting your goodness. The scandal she would have faced, the shame upon my mother …’ She takes his hand.

‘I did it only for you.’

‘Then do this for me too. Perhaps Cedric can train for the army? He needs to get away from here, some place safe. It is better if he goes. I can be brave, for him …’

Finally, Simon regards her. ‘Can you, Miss Darken? I am not convinced you can make up your mind to live without your nephew.’

She bites her lip.

‘Come, now. Whatever has brought this talk on?’

‘I am afraid, Simon! The killer is drawing closer to me. They will not stop at my clients, they will take the people I love next. They want me to be all alone.’ Simon’s hand turns rigid beneath hers. ‘I have received a note – two notes in fact. One was pushed under my door and then I found one in Cedric’s coat pocket! They want me to know how near they are, how easily they can destroy everything … Should I go to the police?’

‘No!’ he exclaims. ‘There is no call for that yet, I am sure, but …’ He pulls at the tiny flecks of stubble on his chin, thinking. ‘But what did these notes say? Was there any indication of who they were from?’