The moon hung high over London, a silver coin in a sky of black velvet. The city was asleep. The street lamps flickered dimly in the fog, and the only sounds were the distant bark of a dog or the rattle of a passing carriage.
But inside the Hamilton mansion, Ines was wide awake.
She lay in her large, soft bed, staring up at the canopy of embroidered silk. Her body was tired. Her limbs felt heavy, like they were made of lead. But her mind was spinning. It was running in circles, faster and faster, refusing to let her rest.
She turned onto her side. She punched her pillow, trying to make it comfortable. It didn't help.
She sat up with a frustrated sigh. She pushed the heavy blankets away and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The floor was cold under her bare feet, but the chill felt good. It grounded her.
