Page 86 of Married to the Earl

“Remember what I said,” Conor told him. “If you haven’t heard from me in an hour, involve the police. Make sure you show them that note.”

“Do you think seeing the note might make them reconsider your innocence in the murder of Lord Hayward?” DuBois asked.

Conor honestly hadn’t thought about that—he had been too preoccupied with worry about Astrid to think about his own problems—but now he wondered. Whoever had written the note seemed to be claiming credit for the murder that Conor had been accused of.

“Maybe,” he said. “They might just think I wrote it myself. You might have to insist that they pursue the case to The Arc and uncover what’s actually going on rather than allowing them to make assumptions.”

“I can do that,” DuBois said. “I’ll make sure they follow up. I won’t let you down again.”

“I have confidence in you,” Conor assured his butler. “But now I have to go. It’s a long walk, and if I’m to reach The Arc by the appointed time, I can’t delay.”

“Of course not,” DuBois agreed. “I’ll see you in a few hours, then.”

Conor waited until his butler had retreated. Then he got to his feet and made his way to the door, feeling as if he was walking through a cloud.

This can’t be real.

Just a few days ago, he and Astrid had been discovering their feelings for each other. They had been together and happy, looking out over what Conor thought was sure to be a beautiful life together.

And now I’m going to stand trial for a murder I didn’t commit, and Astrid is God knows where, in the hands of God knows who.

Was she already at The Arc? He hoped she was. He hoped she had been there this whole time. If nothing else, there would probably be something comforting about being in a club that she knew belonged to her husband.

He put on his jacket and his hat and walked out the front door and down the steps that led to the path where carriages pulled up in front of the manor. A part of him wished he could have taken DuBois’ advice and called for a carriage to transport him to The Arc tonight. It would have been a relief to sit back and give in to his dire thoughts.

But if he had taken a carriage, he would have had to wait even longer before leaving the house. That would have been unbearable. Already, he felt as if he was losing his mind with the pressure of having waited around all day to go and rescue Astrid.

Walking to The Arc is good. It means I can leave now. It means I can be doing something.Every step felt positive, constructive. It felt like he was putting actual tangible effort into helping his wife.

When this is all over,he thought bitterly,I’m going to find out who was responsible for putting us through it. I’m going to track them down and make them suffer for what they’ve done to us.

Conor was not the kind of man who could physically harm another. He knew he didn’t have it in him to take that kind of retribution. No matter how angry he felt right now—and he had to admit that he felt more angry than he ever had in his life—violence would not be a recourse for him.

But he had other ways of seeking revenge. He was wonderful at manipulating people, at getting what he wanted from a situation. It was a power he tried to use only for good. The most self-serving thing he had ever done, he thought, was when he had convinced Astrid to marry him.

And that turned out to be good for everyone involved.

But he could do something thatwasn’tgood for everyone involved, couldn’t he? He could make sure the person responsible for kidnapping Astrid went to jail for the rest of his life for the murder he had almost certainly committed.

The best thing to do will be to find them and keep them talking,he thought.As soon as I’ve ascertained that Astrid is all right, I’ll just get her kidnapper into a conversation. He’s bringing me in because he wants to talk to me anyway, right? So we’ll negotiate.

And we’ll waste time.

And after an hour, DuBois would contact the police, who would read the note, come to The Arc, and make the appropriate arrest.

If everything went the way Conor hoped it would, he and Astrid would be back at home by sunrise, with a full apology from the police in hand. Their troubles would be over.

He imagined falling asleep with his arms wrapped around her, reassuring them both that they were together and safe and that nothing more would be done to harm them.

He imagined waking up late in the day to the smell of a warm meal being brought to their chambers.

We won’t leave the house again for weeks, he thought.We’ll sequester ourselves, stay close together, talk about the things we’ve been through. We’ll recover together until we’re both feeling strong again.

It sounded like a paradise.

Of course, if it was going to work, a lot of things would have to happen according to plan. Conor would have to be in control of the situation from the moment he walked through the doors of The Arc. Any unexpected twists, any surprises, could throw a wrench in the gears that would ruin everything.

I won’t allow that to happen.

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