duke’s long-dead ancestors and up the stairs to the floor above. I found my cousin, Rye, leaning against the banister along the top, staring forlornly across the empty space. He straightened from his slouch at the sound of my footsteps and attempted to smooth his expression into one of indifference. But at the sight of my sympathetic smile, he abandoned the effort.
“I hear Charlotte is struggling with the discovery of this latest corpse,” I murmured as he joined me near the head of the stairs.
He nodded. “It’s because of what happened with her late husband, isn’t it?”
I didn’t respond, but then I didn’t need to. He could read the confirmation in my eyes.
He exhaled a heavy breath, turning to press his hands against the banister again. “I asked her as much, but she said she didn’t want to talk about it.”
It was clear he was concerned, and completely at a loss as to how to help her.
The rumble of voices and the tinkle of nervous laughter drifted upward from the rooms below, along with the soft click of a door closing. Here in the unheated corridor, the exposed skin of my arms between my puffed sleeves and long evening gloves pebbled from the cold. Ignoring the chill air brushing over my collarbone, I reached out to lay a hand gently on my cousin’s dark sleeve.
“Let me try. I was there. I . . .” I broke off, realizing it was unnecessary to recount how Lord Stratford had nearly killed both Charlotte and me. “Perhaps she’ll tell me what has her so upset.”
“Yes, by all means. I just . . .” Rye lowered his head, his arms straining against the wood. “I wish she would trust me.”
The sight of his anguish squeezed something inside my chest. It was an empathy not just for him, but also for the realization that a year ago Gage must have struggled with the same emotions.
“She does,” I assured him. “Or she would never have agreed to wed you.” I leaned against the balustrade, searching for the right words. “You must understand, after all she’s been through, after the terror of being married to a man like Lord Stratford, the fact that she is willing to cede such control to you by marrying you is an enormous display of trust. Believe me,” I added quietly. “I know from experience.”
His dark eyes softened with compassion, even though I knew he couldn’t truly grasp what I had endured in my marriage to Sir Anthony. But I brushed this aside, returning to my point.
“Give her time. Her heart may realize she has nothing to fear from you, but her memories can trick her into believing otherwise. At least, for a short time. But she’ll come about. She will.”
He inhaled a deep breath and nodded.
I offered him a smile of encouragement and began to turn away.
“Thanks, Kiera.”
I glanced back, seeing the affection shining in his eyes. “Of course. We wallflowers have to look after one another.”
His smile widened.
I turned back to study the doors lining the corridor before me, pointing to the one on the left in question.
He dipped his head toward the open one further along the passage, two doors to the right. “She went into the solar.”
What once would have been used as the bedchamber of the laird and lady, and a private sitting room for the family within the castle several hundred years ago had been transformed into a cozy withdrawing room. The wide windows set into the thick stone walls were left unswathed, allowing moonlight to spill into the room through the thick panes of mullioned glass. When I peered around the doorframe, I was surprised to see a fire kindled in the hearth, and wondered if Charlotte had set it alight. She sat on a sofa covered in Aubusson tapestry upholstery, staring into the flames. I’d rounded the sofa before she finally glanced up, revealing red-rimmed eyes and a pink nose. Clearly, she’d been crying.
“May I join you?” I asked.
She peered beyond me into the corridor, as if expecting someone to be standing behind me, but Rye had done as I’d asked and not followed me. Taking a shuddering breath, she attempted to speak, but appeared unable to get the words out. So she simply nodded. I sank down beside her as she lifted a handkerchief to dab at the tears spilling from her eyes once again.
I reached out to clutch her other hand. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?” I prompted when she remained