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They said their goodbyes and the Osborns strode away. Selena gestured silently towards a yew across the churchyard. When she and Athena had moved beneath the tree, Selena said quietly, “You really must be more discreet, Athena, where and when you talk about…you know.”

“You’re right.” Athena also kept her voice low. “I’m sorry. I’m just annoyed that Edward Ackroyd isn’t here. I should so like to talk to him.”

“Me, too. I can’t help thinking, if Mr. Ackroyd did the deed, perhaps he stayed away at sea for years not only due to heartbreak, but out of guilt.”

“It would also explain why Sally Osborn waited so long to confront him. How could she have done so if he hadn’t even been here?”

“Two weeks ago, when Mr. Ackroyd returned, Sally recognized him and either grew a conscience—or a desire to blackmail him.”

Athena felt a sudden rush of energy. “She met Mr. Ackroyd at the riverbank, and he killed her.”

“We may have figured it out, Athena.”

“If only we could find a way to prove it.”

Just then, Mr. Vernon strode up. Athena’s pulse quickened. He looked so dapper in his charcoal-grey suit and a tie that matched his cornflower-blue eyes. The memory of their race through the rain echoed in her mind. Stop that , she reprimanded herself. You are friends, nothing more.

“Miss Taylor, you said that you’d like to meet Edward Ackroyd?”

“I would.”

“He’s here.”

Athena inhaled sharply. “Where?”

“He’s outside the cemetery gates, visiting Caroline’s grave marker.”

“Outside the cemetery?” Athena repeated in surprise.

He colored slightly and seemed to be searching for words.

“Oh, yes, I see.” It hadn’t occurred to Athena before, but convicted murderers weren’t allowed to be buried in a churchyard. Their bodies were given to medical science to dissect and study. The very idea made Athena want to weep.

Selena’s face was full of understanding and sympathy. “I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you, sir.”

Mr. Vernon nodded grimly. “It’s not something I like to contemplate.

In any case… the vicar kindly allowed me to place a grave marker for Caroline just outside the cemetery wall.

There’s no body there, of course. But Ackroyd is there now, paying his respects.

If you’d like, I could introduce you both? ”

“That would be very nice, Mr. Vernon,” Athena said.

Just then, Mrs. Hillman trudged up. “Good morning, Miss Taylor, Miss Selena.” She gave Selena a particular smile. “I cannot wait to hear the next chapter of The Wind Pirate . I’ll see you this afternoon?”

Selena smiled in return. “Yes. I look forward to it.”

“Ian, I need to leave this instant,” Mrs. Hillman told him. “I’m tired and I require a nap after Sunday dinner, before Miss Selena arrives. Would you assist me to my carriage please?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He turned back to Athena and Selena. “I’m so sorry. I won’t be able to make that introduction today, after all.”

“That’s quite all right,” Athena assured him.

They exchanged goodbyes and Mr. Vernon escorted Mrs. Hillman away.

“I’ll round up the girls and bring them home,” Selena told Athena. “You should find Mr. Ackroyd and introduce yourself.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not. Go!” Selena hurried off.

Athena scurried around the church to a grassy space outside the cemetery’s wrought-iron fence, where she found a man kneeling before a marble gravestone.

She recalled Mr. Vernon saying that Edward Ackroyd was Caroline’s age, which would have now made him twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old, although this man’s clean-shaven face was so browned and weather-beaten, he looked a decade older.

He was broad-shouldered and wiry, with muscular upper arms that seemed to be straining to burst free from his rough, brown jacket.

His hair, the color of dried straw, was cut short and he held a sailor’s cap in his hands.

“Mr. Ackroyd?” Athena said quietly.

He glanced up at her approach. He had a strong jaw, a slim nose, and sad, green eyes. “Yes?” He squinted, as if trying to place her.

“Forgive me for disturbing you. I am Miss Athena Taylor.”

“Do I know you?”

“You do not. Mr. Ian Vernon said that I would find you here. I’m the headmistress of a girls’ school at Thorndale Manor.”

“Oh.” He frowned, rose, and brushed off the knees of his faded pants. “How do you do, Miss Taylor?” he said politely.

She guessed him to be about five-foot-ten, a few inches taller than her. “I am well. I was hoping to have a word with you. I know that you were the sweetheart of Miss Caroline Vernon, who lived at Thorndale Manor.”

His expression grew even grimmer. “I was.”

“Mr. Vernon said that you knew her since you were a child.”

“I did.”

Athena knew it was quite bold of her to be asking this, but she couldn’t help herself. She needed to know. “And you loved her?”

His forehead furrowed over eyes that looked haunted. “I loved her more than life. But why are you asking this?”

“Allow me to explain.” She noticed a stone bench nearby and motioned to it. “Would you be so good as to sit with me for a moment?”

Mr. Ackroyd hesitated, but then with a small shrug, he accompanied her to the bench, and they sat down.

“First, I wish to express my condolences, Mr. Ackroyd. I know that Miss Vernon perished some nine years ago. I have lost several people who were dear to me and the pain never quite leaves you, does it?”

“No, miss, it does not.” He stared down at the cap in his hands.

“Today, I live in the same house where your Miss Vernon lived. I dine at the same table where she dined. I sleep in the same room where she slept. And now she haunts my dreams. I long to know more about her, sir. Will you tell me?”

His sandy brows rose as he looked at her. “What do you wish to know?”

“Anything. Everything.”

He sighed. “She was the kindest, smartest, and most gentle young lady I have ever met. She was funny, too. She could make you laugh at the drop of a hat.” He smiled as if in memory, and his eyes glowed with affection as he spoke.

“She was always reading a book. Got me into reading from a young age. I always bring a trunk full of books with me whenever I go to sea. We used to write to each other and discuss what we were reading.”

This scenario touched Athena. He spoke so sincerely, she felt herself drawn into the picture he was describing. But , she reminded herself, this man might be a killer. “Having such a strong attachment to the young lady, it must have been difficult for you to enlist in the Royal Navy.”

“It was. But what choice did I have? It was that or spend the rest of my life buried alive in a coal mine. I need to see the sun every day, Miss Taylor. I need the breeze in my face and the sky above. And I was itching to see the world. Caroline understood. After a few years, I was made an able seaman, but I wanted a better living for my wife. We agreed to wait until I had advanced to the rank of a petty officer or until we had both turned twenty-one, whichever came first, and then we would marry.”

“But fate had something else in store.”

His face grew hard, and he kicked at a pebble with his scuffed boot. “You know what happened, I expect? That she was betrothed against her will to a man she despised? And as if that weren’t bad enough, she was accused of killing him?”

“Yes,” Athena said softly. “Harold Sinclair.” She waited.

His upper lip curled. “Oh, how I hated that man.”

“Why?”

“Because he was going to have her, even though he didn’t deserve her!

” The words escaped him in a rush. He paused and seemed to be struggling to collect himself.

“But it wasn’t just that. He wasn’t kind.

And he didn’t respect her. Caroline wrote me all about it.

She said Sinclair just wanted a pretty face to run his house and bear his children.

He didn’t care to hear her ideas or opinions—he said he would tell her what to think and how to act. ”

The scenario was all too familiar. It reminded her of Giles Shaw.

Mr. Ackroyd went on, his nostrils flaring. “Worst of all, he hurt her. Physically, I mean.”

So, Mr. Vernon was right. “How?”

“She said her father permitted him to make unchaperoned visits now and then. When she refused to kiss him, he grabbed her by the wrists and her hair and forced her to submit. Once he slapped her face so hard, she had a red mark on her cheek for a week. She was glad her brother was away at the time. She made me promise not to write to him about the abuse, for fear he would do something rash and come to harm himself.”

“Oh, Mr. Ackroyd.” Athena’s heart went out to Miss Vernon. No woman should ever suffer such treatment. And yet, Athena had read in the papers about men who did far worse.

“And that was before they were married. It drove me mad to think of how he might mistreat her after they were wed. Sometimes, I feared for her life, Miss Taylor.”

Athena’s throat constricted and she shuddered.

She wondered suddenly if she might have been subjected to similar treatment had she married Giles Shaw, who, like Harold Sinclair, had not respected women.

She wondered, as well, what Mr. Ackroyd might have done to protect the woman he loved from such a fate.

Athena hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Did you ever think of trying to… stop Mr. Sinclair?”

“I did, plenty of times.” He seemed to go somewhere else in his mind for a moment. The fingers on his right hand tightened into a fist. “I wanted to kill him.”

There it is. Quietly, Athena asked, “And did you?”

He blinked twice. His lips twitched and his brow creased, as if he were taking time to consider his response.

“No!” he said at last. “I was away at sea while all this was going on. I managed to get a fortnight’s leave, though, and rushed home, hoping to rescue Caroline before that animal could marry her.

We planned to elope to Scotland. But the minute her father found out I was here he locked her up and wouldn’t let her leave the house.

I never even got to see her. Somehow, she escaped and made it to that party at Woodcroft House. ”

“Did you attend the party?”

He hesitated again and lowered his eyes, as if avoiding Athena’s gaze. “No. I hated the man’s guts. Why would I go to one of his stupid parties? Especially when I thought Caroline couldn’t be there?”

“Where were you that night?”

He toyed with the cap in his hands. “What difference does it make?”

“You said Harold Sinclair was a violent man. He was about to marry the woman you loved. I just thought you might have gone to the party, to… stop him from hurting Miss Vernon anymore.”

His blond brows drew together. He turned to stare at her. “Wait, what is this? Did you corner me here to try to get me to incriminate myself in that crime?”

“Of course not,” Athena replied quickly, but she could see that he didn’t believe her.

He leapt to his feet, his eyes flashing.

“I won’t lie. My hat is off to whoever sent Harold Sinclair to Hades.

But it wasn’t me. I wasn’t at that party.

It was my last night on shore, and they wouldn’t let me see Caroline, so I went to the pub.

The next morning, I heard Harold Sinclair had been killed.

I didn’t even get to say goodbye to Caroline—I had to return to my ship.

By the time I’d learned she had been hanged for his murder, I was halfway across the seven seas.

” He replaced his cap on his head, gave Athena a cold, hard stare, and walked away.

Athena sat there for a long while in deep reflection. On the one hand, her heart went out to Mr. Ackroyd for having lost the woman he loved. On the other hand, she sensed in her gut that he had been lying about something. But what?