With every minute that.
With every minute that Hendrik is in the house, Leonora feels Raven Hall slipping more from her grasp. The way he looks at her with those piercing blue eyes. The way he looks at Beth . . .
“I’m Nina, sir,” Beth told him, when he arrived. And now she’s playing her violin for him. But Leonora can barely breathe; she’s waiting for Hendrik to leap up, to declare the whole performance a sham, to banish them all from this place forever.
She curls her fingers tightly in her lap so Hendrik won’t see them shaking. Why did she let Markus talk her into trying this? But then again . . . what other option did they have?
Beth lowers her violin, and—is it possible?—Hendrik is crying. He’s genuinely crying.
“That was beautiful, my child,” he says. “You remind me so much of your grandmother, Anneliese.”
Slowly, slowly, Leonora uncurls her fingers. Against all the odds, it seems their little game might just have worked.