“William . . . I’m so sorry . . .” She meant it; the pity was there in her face—for him, but far more for the woman she had never met. “Do you have any idea who—”

“Dalgarno,” he said before she had finished. He suddenly realized how cold he was, and walked over to the fire.

“Michael Dalgarno?” she said slowly, turning so she was still facing him.

“Yes. Why?” He studied her face, the profound unhappiness in it more intense than even a moment before. “Hester?”

“What relationship does she have to Dalgarno?” she asked, her eyes not leaving his. “Why did she think he was guilty of something, and why do you think he killed her, William?”

“She was betrothed to him. Did I not tell you that?”

“No, not by name.”

“Why do you ask? Tell me!”

She looked down, then up at him quickly, her face full of pain. “I went to see Livia Baltimore to tell her a little about what I have discovered regarding her father’s death. It isn’t much . . .” She must have seen his impatience. “I met Michael Dalgarno. He was there.”

“He works for Baltimore and Sons. It’s not surprising.” He knew as he said it that she had not told him all that mattered.

“He was paying court to Livia,” she answered. “And from the way she received him, she was expecting it, so he has been doing so for some time. If he was betrothed to Miss Harcus, then he was behaving disgracefully.”

He knew she would not be mistaken in such a thing. She understood the nuances of courtship, even if she had never flirted in her life. She also knew the correct way for a young woman to behave, and what was acceptable for a man to do, and what was not.

So Dalgarno had betrayed Katrina in love as well as in financial honesty. Had she known that? Had she found out that very night when she had challenged him over the land fraud? Had he shown himself the ultimate opportunist, and knowing that he had no intention of marrying her now that Baltimore’s daughter would accept him, had she threatened to expose the fraud? And so had he killed her?

Monk bent to poke the fire, glad of the flames as it burned up, and of the excuse to look away from Hester.

“Poor Katrina,” he said aloud. “He betrayed her in every way. First he was a thief, then he jilted her for another woman, and when she faced him with it—he murdered her.” He found it difficult even to say the words.

“But you’ll prove it . . . won’t you,” Hester said quietly. “You won’t let it go . . .”

“No, I won’t,” he promised, standing up again. “I couldn’t save her, but by God I’ll have justice for her!”