They returned home before dawn.
The car pulled up to the estate as the sky was beginning to pale at the edges, the first hint of light bleeding through the darkness. The house was silent. Aunt Estella wouldn't be up for another hour. The twins were still asleep, their bedroom door closed, no light beneath it.
Franz carried his bag to the foyer and set it down. He was already dressed for travel — dark sweater, jacket, the clothes he'd laid out the day before. His scarf was still in the car, draped over the backseat where Arianne had left it. She was still wearing it when they'd walked out of the hotel. He hadn't asked for it back. He didn't need it. It was hers now, whether she acknowledged it or not.
She stood in the kitchen making coffee. She'd changed out of her dinner dress and into comfortable clothes — soft trousers, a sweater that was too large for her. The sleeves were pushed up to her elbows. Her hair was pulled back loosely. Her feet were bare.
