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Frederick’s head still ached, but his mind was clearer than it had been the night before. Waking to find Grace pressed against his side, her breathing deep and steady, anchored him in a way no tonic ever could.

She was safe.

He let out a slow breath, tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying easing away.

Grace often reminded him, with her cheerful certainty, that God held her life securely.

Yet the gnawing concern for her well-being kept his senses perpetually on alert.

It wasn’t as if danger lurked around every corner of their married life—not every moment, anyway.

There had been months of peace, tranquil interludes where he dared to imagine what a mystery-free existence might look like.

But those interludes were fleeting, and he had to admit—if only to himself—that solving mysteries had begun to intrigue him almost as much as it did her.

Almost.

His gaze softened as it drifted back to her face.

No one, not even the most dedicated enthusiast of serialized detective novels, could match his wife’s insatiable appetite for intrigue.

Yet he couldn’t deny the pull he felt when a new case presented itself.

It wasn’t just the thrill of unraveling the puzzle—though he wasn’t immune to the appeal of that—but the deeper sense of purpose that came with setting things right.

After years of feeling like less than a hero, these mysteries—and the luminous woman who seemed to attract them like moths to a flame—gave him a reason to believe he could be something more.

Grace stirred beside him, her lips curving into a soft smile even before her eyes opened.

The sight of it tugged a matching grin from him.

It had been far too rare since their arrival, and no wonder.

What he’d planned to be a sweet reunion of daughter with her sister and father had turned into a horrible sequence of lies, deceit, and now death.

How would this adventure, so near to her heart, impact her?

She stirred and blinked open those large sapphire eyes of hers, the soft smile on her face spreading as she looked over at him.

“Good morning, my dear Lord Astley,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

His finger reached out to spin a fiery red lock of her hair around its tip. “Good morning, darling.”

She sighed and scooted closer, her head coming to rest on his shoulder, her palm on his chest. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Currently, I am very well contented,” he said, earning a pleased hum from her.

“Does your head feel clearer?”

“It does.”

“That is wonderful news, for your brains are quite important to sleuthing.”

His grin twitched. “I prefer them intact, most assuredly.”

He almost felt her smile in response.

“I assume you took on the duties of valet for me last night?” he asked, his fingers absently twisting her loose hair.

“I did. And we both agreed not to tell Elliott you find me better to look at than him.”

The memory surfaced in his still-foggy mind, and he let out a soundless laugh. “I fully stand by that observation.”

Her delighted sigh warmed him to his core.

After a moment’s silence, Grace stirred.

“I think poor Miss Cox may not be with us for much longer, Frederick. After your impressive entrance to Lillias’ room last evening and then Lillias’ thorough tongue-lashing of the young woman when she didn’t button Thomas’ baby gown the right way, I’m afraid her salary may not fit our style of living. ”

He barely caught his chuckle. “I’m sorry for you and Zahra, but you managed fairly well without a lady’s maid when in Egypt and Italy. Do you think you’ll be fine until we return to England where you’ll have Ellie at hand again?”

“Oh, I’m certain I’ll be fine.” She paused.

“You’re worried about Zahra?”

She moved her head against his shoulder as if to shake it. “Zahra’s lived on her own too many times for me to question her capability, though I do think she still needs our care for her as parents. I don’t think she knows what love is like.”

“And that,” Frederick murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair, “makes you the best mother for her.”

She gave him a gentle hug in appreciation of his praise. “I’m only feeling sorry for Lillias, as she won’t have someone to help care for Thomas, though Zahra is willing, but she’s such a little girl still and Lillias isn’t too happy that Zahra is half-Egyptian.”

Frederick’s jaw tightened. Zahra was a little girl, for heaven’s sake, and no child deserved such censure—especially not from someone whose own life choices hadn’t exactly set her up as a model of virtue.

“If Lillias can’t accept Zahra’s help, she can hire someone else,” he said, exhaling his frustration. “How did your conversation with your sister go last night?”

Grace’s hesitation told him volumes. “It derailed before your grand entrance,” she admitted at last.

“And?”

She sighed, her palm stilling against his chest. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, though the pause stretched a beat too long for his comfort.

“She confirmed Miss Steen’s assessment of her marriage—and she’s blaming me for her unhappiness.”

“Blaming you?” Frederick frowned. “For what?”

Grace shifted enough to meet his gaze, her brow pinched in a way that made him want to throttle whoever put that shadow there—Lillias, in this case.

“She said that if I hadn’t confronted her about the baby, no one would have been the wiser, and the two of you would have been happily married parents by now. ”

Heat began a dangerous climb through his stomach into his neck.

Lillias’ complaint touched a nerve, stirring the buried ache of his own family’s deceptions.

His elder brother had been the result of a similar situation, a truth Frederick had only uncovered months ago with Grace’s help.

That lie had unraveled into a lifetime of Frederick being the family’s black sheep—and worse, it had led to the tragic series of events culminating in his father and brother’s deaths.

“Lillias made her choices,” he said firmly, cradling Grace’s chin. “She must live with the consequences. None of this is your fault.”

Her brow puckered further. “But I’ve already broken so many rules about being a countess, my father’s promised money is gone, and now you’re related to a potential murderer.”

Frederick bit back a grin at her tendency toward derailing into impending cataclysms. “Your sister did not murder her husband,” he said, tapping her chin gently. “We’ll figure out the matter of the lost money. And for the record, you are the perfect countess for me.”

Grace didn’t look convinced. “I hope you still feel that way when Lillias is charged with murder and Havensbrooke has to sell off land to keep the schoolchildren from starving.”

“Grace!” He laughed despite himself. “I cannot predict whether your sister will be charged with murder, but we both know she’s not the mastermind behind Tony’s death.

And the children of Astlynn Commons will not starve because of any financial setback.

As you’ve reminded me, Havensbrooke has untapped resources.

We just need to be inventive—something you excel at. ”

His reassurance did nothing to temper her frown. She needed a distraction and he had an idea of how to provide one. “I imagine we’ll hear from Mr. Barclay this morning, and we can make arrangements to see him to get a better understanding about this inheritance of yours.”

She popped up from her place at his side and stared down at him, all of her red hair falling around her pale shoulders.

“That’s right. And who is to know what all it will entail.

Perhaps there will be some financial piece to it.

” Her smile grew and then she scooted away from him to the end of the bed.

“We must speak with Lillias as soon as she is awake, Frederick.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, a grin tugging at his lips. “Given what I know about your sister, I doubt she’s awake yet, darling.”

Grace froze mid-motion, narrowing her eyes at him as if calculating his logic.

Then, with a sharp nod, she resumed dressing.

“Very well. We’ll check on Zahra and Miss Cox first, which should give Lillias time to rise.

But we cannot delay. If we’re to secure the inheritance, we’ll need to travel to Scotland together—and we need to move quickly to clear my sister of suspicion. ”

A knock on the door pulled Frederick up from the bed and into more presentable attire. Grace stepped forward and opened the door enough for him to make out the look of an unfamiliar face.

“My lady?” The woman stuttered, looking confused and clearly in a bit of a fankle. Had her name been Mrs. James? The housekeeper they’d seen briefly yesterday? “I’m sorry to disturb you so early, but you and the earl have had mail arrive this morning.”

Grace took the envelope and smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. James, isn’t it?”

The housekeeper straightened, her cheeks coloring faintly. Frederick joined Grace at the door, buttoning his cuffs.

“Yes, my lady. Yesterday was my half day, so I wasn’t here or …” She hesitated, visibly paling. “The horrible events.”

“We’re sorry our arrival has added to your distress.”

The woman’s entire body relaxed at Frederick’s statement.

“It’s a shock, sir … my lord. A murder, and in this very house!

” Her large blue eyes widened, her pale face stark against the dark bun pinned neatly at the nape of her neck.

The striking contrast reminded Frederick of Snow White, a thought so absurd he nearly groaned.

That was definitely something Grace would have thought.

The woman was much younger than any of the housekeepers Frederick had ever known, but considering the Dixons’ finances, perhaps they had to choose a less experienced servant for smaller rates. And her accent hailed from across the pond.

“You find it as a shock?” Grace asked.

The woman’s eyes widened. “Well, of course! No one would expect Mr. Dixon to be stabbed in his own parlor. If anything, I’d have thought one of those dreadful men he owed money to might have done him in elsewhere.”

Frederick’s eyebrows rose, but Grace was already leaning forward, her interest sharpening. “Dreadful men?”

Mrs. James paled further, stammering. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said that—”

“It’s quite all right,” Grace reassured her, lowering her voice. “We’re aware of Mr. Dixon’s gambling troubles. Any information you have could help us uncover what happened.”

“I–I’m sure I don’t know much.” But her expression didn’t match her statement. “Mr. Dixon had a few men come by looking for money he owed them. I tried not to mention it to Mrs. Dixon because it always led to a row between the two of them.”

“Were all the men from the gambling house nasty?”

The woman blinked over at Frederick, her hands wringing in front of her.

“Well, not all. A few could be right dashing looking, but they wanted money all the same. Even asked for Mrs. Dixon.” The woman’s eyes widened.

“But I tell them they won’t find her at home in the mornings and she wouldn’t have anything to do with them anyway. ”

Grace sent Frederick a look. So the strangers knew when people may have been absent from the house.

The woman’s eyes widened as if she’d said something amiss, and she rushed ahead. “But I don’t go telling Mr. and Mrs. Dixon’s business to folks. You can’t think that. Please don’t tell Mrs. Dixon. Her temper is something frightful.”

“Is it?” Frederick searched the woman’s face.

“Has she ever hurt you?” This from Grace.

“Let’s just say that I’m not too keen to get on her wrong side.” Mrs. James stepped back, sending a furtive gaze along the hallway as if afraid Lillias would emerge at any moment.

“Not to worry, your secret is safe with us.” Frederick offered.

“I’m much obliged.” She nodded, taking another step back. “I’ll have breakfast set up for you in the dining room within the next half hour, if that will be fine for you.”

“Of course, thank you.” Grace offered.

As the housekeeper turned to leave, Frederick stopped her. “Mrs. James, where are you from originally? I couldn’t help noticing your accent.”

Her smile faltered, and she answered vaguely, “North of Yorkshire, sir. Until my family came to this side of the world.”

“Well, I hope your adventure in America improves from what you’ve experienced so far,” Grace said.

“So do I, my lady.” She dipped her head and disappeared down the hallway.

Grace turned to him once the door closed behind them. “So that’s an easy explanation for how the timing worked so well for no one to have witnessed Tony’s death.”

“And one of the likely culprits for any rumors spread throughout town.” Frederick added. “She was much too free in giving personal information to strangers.”

“There’s no telling what else she’s shared and with whom, especially with some of the men seeking Tony and his money.”

“And”—Frederick held her gaze—”I wonder if any of those ‘strangers’ had accents that tended toward a more Highland direction.”

Grace gasped. “Do you think? Like your assailant?”

“I wonder.” His gaze dropped to the envelope in her hand. “I see the Clarion’s emblem on the front of the envelope, so I imagine it’s a response to my message from yesterday to Mr. Barclay.”

Grace looked down at the note, as if remembering it was in her hand.

“Yes, it must be.” She slipped open the envelope and read over the brief comments.

“He was happy to get our message and asks if he may come by the house to meet with us this afternoon.” She nodded.

“I’ll send him a reply once we speak to Lillias.

” Grace looked back at him. “Frederick, if your assailant was Scottish and this inheritance is in Scotland, do you think Tony’s death is tied to this entire situation in some way? It seems too much of a coincidence.”

His thoughts exactly. “I don’t know, but we’d best be on our guard for the very possibility.”