‘Mr. Savast,’ said Kanadin, approaching to shake Konrad’s hand. ‘What a pleasure, sir. I admit I was not expecting such eminent company. I suppose you have come to convey condolences? How kind.’
Konrad murmured something in the assent, but quickly realised that Kanadin was not listening; his attention had wandered to Nanda.
‘Madam,’ he said with another, lower bow. ‘I confess myself dazzled. Whom do I have the honour of addressing?’ His eyes lingered on Nanda’s gown, Konrad noted, but he could not guess what the man was thinking. Was it the boldness of the design he noticed, or the fineness of the silk? Or was he actually daring to appreciate the admittedly intriguing way in which Nanda filled it out? A scowl gathered on Konrad’s brow, and he was obliged to take a deep breath to smooth i
