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Bridegroom.”
    “According to Inspector Logan’s message, he is not due to call until eleven o’clock,” Penny said. “You do not look as if you slept well. Perhaps you should take a nap after breakfast?”
    “I’m fine, Penny.” Amity picked up her cup. “I have never been able to nap during the day.”
    The muffled clang of the door knocker echoed down the hall. Amity and Penny exchanged startled glances.
    Mrs. Houston’s face set in disapproving lines. “Who on earth would be calling at this hour?”
    Amity put down her cup. “I expect that will be Inspector Logan.”
    “Shall I tell the inspector to come back at a decent hour?”
    “Why bother?” Amity said. She crumpled her napkin and set it beside her plate. “I may as well get the conversation over now. No point postponing the inevitable. Perhaps Inspector Logan is early because he has some news.”
    “Yes, of course,” Penny said. “Let us hope they found the body.”
    Mrs. Houston went down the hall to answer the door.
    A hush fell on the room. Amity listened intently as Mrs. Houston greeted the caller. A man’s voice—dark, gruff and freighted with impatience and command—responded.
    “Where the devil is Miss Doncaster?”
    Amity felt as if she had just been struck by a very large ocean wave.
    “Oh, dear,” she whispered. “That’s not Inspector Logan.”
    In spite of her sleepless nights and too much coffee—or perhaps because of those two factors—frissons of panic and excitement shivered through her. The little icy-hot tingles of awareness splashed across her nerves and caused her pulse to kick up. In all of her travels she had met only one man who had such an effect on her.
    “Miss Doncaster is at breakfast, sir,” Mrs. Houston announced. “I’ll let her know you’re asking for her.”
    “Never mind, I’ll find her.”
    Boot steps echoed in the hall.
    Penny looked at Amity across the table, a delicate frown crinkling her brows.
    “Who on earth—?” she started to ask.
    Before Amity could answer, Benedict swept into the room. His hair was windblown and he was dressed in traveling clothes. He carried a leather case under one arm.
    At the sight of him joy and relief flashed through her. He was alive. Her worst nightmare was just that—merely a nightmare.
    And then the outrage set in.
    “What a surprise, Mr. Stanbridge,” she said in her steeliest accents. “We weren’t expecting you this morning. Or any other morning, for that matter.”
    He stopped short, eyes tightening at the corners. Evidently that was not the greeting he had been anticipating.
    “Amity,” he said.
    Predictably, it was Penny who took charge of the volatile situation, doing so with her customary grace and dignity.
    “Mr. Stanbridge, allow me to introduce myself, as my sister appears to have forgotten her manners. I’m Penelope Marsden.”
    For a dash of time Amity did not think that Benedict would allow himself to be distracted by the introduction. Judging by her experience of his company on board the
Northern Star
, he had excellent manners when he chose to use them. For the most part, however, he had little patience for the niceties of Polite Society.
    But clearly it dawned on him that he had overstepped the bounds of good manners by invading a lady’s morning room at such an early hour, because he turned immediately toward Penny.
    “Benedict Stanbridge, at your service.” He inclined his head in a surprisingly elegant bow. “I apologize for the intrusion, Mrs. Marsden. My ship docked less than an hour ago. I came straight here because I saw the morning papers. I was concerned, to say the least.”
    “Perfectly understandable,” Penny said. “Won’t you join us for breakfast, sir?”
    “Thank you,” Benedict said. He looked at the silver coffee pot with something approaching lust. “I would be very grateful. I didn’t get breakfast, as we docked earlier than anticipated.”
    Penny looked at Mrs. Houston, who was staring, fascinated,