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Astrid flew down the stairs and into her husband’s arms. “You didn’t have to come home!” she cried, although she had to admit that she was happy he had. Although she was perfectly capable of fending for herself, as she’d told him, the house did seem awfully big and lonely without his presence in it.

She had spent the past hour or so with Betsy, pestering her lady’s maid with questions about her family and upbringing. Betsy had tolerated this with good humor, but it had been clear to Astrid that the girl would rather have been focusing on her work.

Eventually, Astrid had given up on bothering Betsy and had made her way to the library, as she had suggested to Conor that she might. But before she’d gotten there, the front door of the manor had flown open, and there he was.

Now she stood back from him just slightly and looked up, worry in her eyes. “You really didn’t have to come home,” she told him, feeling a little guilty. He had been so worried about leaving her, and she really could have managed for herself. Maybe she should have been clearer about that fact.

But he shook his head, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin gently on top of her head. “The Arc is closed for the day,” he said.

“Why? Is something wrong?”

He inhaled deeply. “I’m not sure how much I should tell you about it,” he said.

“What happened?”

“It’s a bit alarming,” he said, “and you’re a woman.”

“Do you really think you’re going to offend my delicate sensibilities?”

“I think I should shield you from things like this,” he said.

“I’ve been shielded from things all my life,” Astrid said. “My father tried to shield me from the fact that he’d stolen from you, even as he was pledging my hand to you. I want to know what’s going on with my husband, even if it is difficult.”

He nodded. “Come sit down, then,” he said, leading her to the parlor. “I’ll tell you everything. But I’m afraid it may upset you.”

She felt upset already, just hearing his concerns. “I can handle it,” she assured him, although she was quaking inside. “Whatever it is, we’ll be able to get through it together.”

He took a seat in his worn old armchair and indicated that she should sit down too. She did so nervously, folding her hands in her lap and waiting.

“There was a death last night,” he said eventually. “A murder.”

Astrid gasped.A murder? That’s horrible! And what could such a thing have to do with us?

“The victim was a friend of Killian O’Flannagan,” Conor said. “My business rival. He’s one of the people responsible for spreading rumors about me and tarnishing my reputation.” He leaned in suddenly, as if he were afraid she might not be hearing him. “But I could never have wished harm to him.”

“Of course not,” Astrid said.

“You believe me?”

“Of course I do! You’re a kindhearted man,” she said. “You couldn’t wish harm on anybody.”

He sighed and nodded slowly, clearly relieved by her assessment.

And Astrid’s heart sank with realization.

“Does someonenotbelieve you?” she breathed.

“The body was found at The Arc,” Conor said. “As a rival of ours, Lord Hayward—the victim—never patronized The Arc. So it looks suspicious that he was there on the night he was murdered.”

“What does that mean?” Astrid asked. “That doesn’t mean that you had anything to do with it.”

“But it looks as though I did,” Conor said. “People know about the rivalry between our clubs. The Arc and the Angry Boar are two of the most popular spots in town for drinking and socializing, and O’Flannagan and I have been rivals for years.”

“If that’s true, then what reason could you have to act against him all of a sudden like this?” Astrid said. “Even if they want to say you’ve got a motive, it doesn’t really make sense. Surely if you were going to do something, you would have done it a long time ago.”

“Maybe,” Conor said. “But no one can deny that Lord Hayward is dead. No one can deny that he was found in my club, and therefore it’s likely that that’s where he was when he was murdered. And no one can deny that Lord Hayward and I didn’t like each other.” He sighed. “I certainly never would have wanted him dead, but I would have liked to see him ruined financially. He was not a good man.”

Astrid’s heart raced. “They couldn’t have thought you were guilty, though,” she reasoned, “or they would have arrested you. Right? They wouldn’t have let you come home if they thought you were a murderer.”