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“He was always telling me what to do and how to think. ‘Don’t speak your mind in public; it is unseemly for a woman.’ ‘My opinions will be your opinions.’ ‘Don’t read that book; it will put dangerous ideas in your head.

’ When we were married, he said, I would get one new dress per year, and a new bonnet every three years, and he would choose the styles and colors.

He had all the names picked out for his six future children, who were to be my primary occupation, along with managing his house.

He didn’t understand or approve of my desire to open a school for girls with an expanded curriculum.

‘Girls can get their education perfectly well from a nanny or governess,’ he’d insisted. And ‘No wife of mine will work.’”

“Ah,” Mr. Vernon said.

“When I broke things off with him, he was shocked—but I was relieved. Since then, I have come to appreciate my lucky escape—and my freedom.”

“Your freedom?” He studied her. “Are you saying you don’t wish to marry?”

“I do not.” Notwithstanding her attraction to this man, Athena’s feelings on the subject hadn’t changed. “I have come to realize that the institution is not advantageous for some women.”

“I know a lot of men who share your Mr. Shaw’s attitudes and beliefs—but not all men.”

“Even so. A married woman gives up all her rights. She becomes a man’s property, bound to his will.

” They entered a long, formal garden surrounded by high, stone walls.

Athena gestured to them. “She is forever trapped, as if enclosed within these four walls. She has no power over herself or even over her own children.”

He seemed to ponder that. “I have always thought the system to be wrong. But if you met a man who felt as you do? Who allowed you to keep your freedoms , as you call them?”

Had Mr. Vernon, perhaps unintentionally, given a hint of his own beliefs with that phrase?

“Even if there were such man as that in England,” Athena said with a smile, “he could not change the law.” She glanced at him. “What about you? I should think that you would have married long ago.” It might have been a brazen thing to say, but he had brought up the subject.

He went quiet for a moment. “I would have liked to marry, yes. But I haven’t had the opportunity. Ever since my sister…” He didn’t finish the statement, and his eyes seemed to be dimmed by regret.

Athena considered all that he had been through over the past nine years—his sister’s death, his father’s betrayal, the loss of his ancestral home—and her heart went out to him. “I’m so sorry about everything, but especially about what happened to your sister.”

“So am I,” he replied abruptly. “But don’t feel sorry for me. I’m out here, strolling in a beautiful garden on a sunny afternoon with a lovely companion, allowed to live my life. Caroline’s life was taken from her.”

“It is so unfair,” Athena said feelingly.

They continued in silence past autumnal flowerbeds and a verdant lawn and then passed through a gate into another walled garden. Athena realized there was a matter that she had wanted to discuss with him. “Mr. Vernon, may I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“I hope it is not insensitive of me to bring this up. It has to do with your sister.”

“Go on.”

“Last week, I was at the apothecary shop when Miss Quince said something odd.”

“What did she say?”

Athena hesitated to repeat the woman’s exact words—Miss Quince had called Caroline Vernon a pathetic creature . “She didn’t seem to like your sister. She said Miss Vernon had everything a woman could want and didn’t appreciate any of it.”

He nodded grimly. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Doesn’t it? Everyone with whom I have spoken until now adored your sister.”

“Margaret Quince had good reason to dislike Caroline.”

“Why?”

Mr. Vernon shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced away. “I don’t like to tell tales out of school, but I suppose it’s no secret. Miss Quince was… How shall I put it? For many years, she was involved in a relationship with Harold Sinclair.”

“With Harold Sinclair?” Athena repeated, briefly stopping in mid-stride.

He nodded, his features impassive as they continued on.

“Sinclair apparently thought Miss Quince too far beneath him to acknowledge, so he saw her on the sly,” Mr. Vernon explained.

“But everyone in the village knew about it. I felt sorry for her at the time. Sinclair was never going to marry an apothecary’s daughter.

She seemed to keep on hoping. And then he and Caroline became engaged, and he dropped Miss Quince like a hot potato. ”

“Ouch.” Athena let this new information rattle around in her brain. Miss Quince was Harold Sinclair’s jilted lover. Interesting. “I understand now. Miss Quince resented your sister for stealing away the man she loved.”

“Yes. Except that Caroline didn’t steal anyone. She was horrified to find herself betrothed to Harold Sinclair.”

A new scenario began to form in Athena’s mind—and with it, another possible suspect in the murder of Harold Sinclair.

But before she could examine it further, she and Mr. Vernon emerged from the second walled garden and she caught sight of a lovely two-story house ahead, with diamond leadlight windows and a clay tile roof.

“That,” said Mr. Vernon, “is the dower house.”

It suddenly occurred to Athena that she was about to enter an empty house with an unmarried gentleman, without the benefit of any other person or chaperone.

It wasn’t a seemly thing to do. Had she been out of her mind to agree to this? Perhaps.

Boldly, she said, “Lead on.”