“I’ve come undone,” Esmeralda pouted, moving to stand before him. “Nothing for it, my dear; it appears to be hereditary,” Roderick commented, not looking up from his paper. “My necklace, Roderick; I am speaking of my NECKLACE.” A storm was crossing both brows as he lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Ah,” he smiled. “Of course.” He did not rescind his comment, casually noticing that she wasn’t wearing any jewelry. Roderick knew his wife was barking mad; he’d said as much to the gents at the club (who promptly began taking wagers on when he’d have to lock her in the tower). “Looks like Wednesday,” he whispered to himself, going back to the news.