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“And who else’s way should I do things?” Conor countered, taking his own seat as Astrid struggled to sit down properly with the thick fabric that now surrounded her.

“You might consider listening to conventional wisdomsometimes, at least,” Mr. Wilson said as DuBois entered the room with the supper plates. Astrid inhaled, relishing the smell of herbs and meat. She had had chicken at Middleborough Manor only once before, and it was the most delightful meal she had ever eaten. Mr. Wilson had come at the right time.

“Conventional wisdom,” Conor scoffed. “That’s just what people who aren’t capable of independent thought use to justify their lack of creativity.”

“Sounds like something Killian O’Flannagan would say,” Mr. Wilson said. “It sounds like the way he would defend his business tactics. They’re not conventional. They’recreative.”

Conor set his goblet down and frowned at Mr. Wilson across the table. “Are you comparing me with Killian O’Flannagan?” he asked.

“Not exactly.” Mr. Wilson cut himself a bite of chicken, looking completely casual, as if he didn’t realize he was being glared at. “I’m just saying that the two of you might have this in common.”

“O’Flannagan and I have nothing in common.”

“Wait a moment,” Astrid interrupted. “Who’s Killian O’Flannagan?”

Mr. Wilson’s eyebrows lifted. “You were right,” he said to Conor. “She does speak up.

Astrid blushed furiously. Had Conor said that about her? Had he been complaining about her to his friend? She was mortified.

But Conor answered the question as if Mr. Wilson hadn’t spoken. “He’s a business rival of mine,” he said. “He owns a pub in town called the Angry Boar, and he tries to steal my customers. Mr. Wilson is saying that the tactics he uses to do so are unconventional.”

Mr. Wilson looked stunned. “You explain your business to her?”

“She asked,” Conor said.

“You really do always do things your own way,” Mr. Wilson murmured.

Astrid wasn’t listening. Her mind was still on what Conor had said about his business rival. “What unconventional tactics does he use?” she asked. “How is he trying to steal your customers?”

“You’ve heard the rumors about me,” Conor said. “You already know.”

Astrid gasped. “You’re saying this man started those rumors?”

“Many of them,” Conor said.

“But he could have ruined your life! How could he?”

“He was trying to ruin me,” Conor said calmly. “That was his intent, Astrid. He would have been happy to see it happen.”

“He’s a monster, then,” she whispered.

Mr. Wilson laughed. “Don’t you worry about it, My Lady,” he said. “You must know Lord Middleborough well enough by now to know that he’s tough enough to withstand any criticism. The things that O’Flannagan says don’t hurt him. Nothing seems to hurt him, to tell you the truth. It has steam coming out of poor old O’Flannagan’s ears.” He laughed and popped a bite of chicken into his mouth.

But that isn’t right, Astrid thought.Conor can be hurt.Her husband wasn’t the tough, untouchable man that Mr. Wilson was describing. He was strong, yes, but he was also sensitive. He was the man who had kept his childhood horse when the animal was no longer any good to him, just out of the kindness of his heart.

He was the man who had given her chambers of her own when she had come to his house rather than insisting that she come to his bed.

There was a gentleness to him, and that meant that he could be hurt.

And yet, even his best friend didn’t see that side of him.Mr. Wilson sits here laughing about how this Killian O’Flannagan tries and fails to hurt Conor, she thought.He thinks it’s a joke. He thinks it’s funny. How can he think that?

She knew the answer as soon as she asked herself the question. Mr. Wilson thought it was a joke because that was what Conor wanted him to think.

And suddenly, a lot of things began to make sense to Astrid.

Things like how cold and distant Conor had been with her in the beginning. The fact that he had put up walls between the two of them. The fact that he had seemed not to care about her, even on their wedding day.

The fact that now, as the walls began to come down bit by bit, she could see that he had cared about her all along.