Just like that, all of his urgency, all of his desperation, fell away. It was such a swift change, Wren was left reeling. Now that adrenaline couldn’t keep her upright, she emptied of everything save for a haze of paranoia. Lowry was truly the most tempestuous and easy-to-reassure man she’d ever met, and she could not shake the queasy thought that she’d just been played for a fool. But after what she’d learned today, maybe she couldn’t trust her own instincts. Even if Lowry was manipulating her, he certainly wasn’t hiding anything sinister behind that self-assured smile. With no clear motive, he seemed an exceedingly unlikely murder suspect.

“Of course, my lord,” she said quietly. “Thank you for watching out for me.”

“Anytime, my dear. I’m all too sympathetic to the effect this house has on people in winter.” He turned and leaned against the banister, a grim silhouette against the bar-shaped windows. The wan afterglow of dusk flickered in the shadow of the snowfall, and far below them, the darkness gathering on the ground floor churned like the rising sea. “It gets to be quite claustrophobic. The shortening days. The wind and snow and the insufferable creak of the old foundation. It’s enough to drive anyone mad.”

“Yet you’ve stayed,” Wren said.

“For most of the year, I have plenty of company,” he said. “For the rest … Well, I’ve come to find it peaceful, being so undisturbed. I have things to keep me busy.”

“Like collecting?”

“Like collecting, yes.” The amusement with which he spoke veered decidedly into the cryptic. Before she could press harder, he spun on his heel toward her and said, “And planning events, of course. Speaking of! I’m considering the color palette for the ball. What do you think? Black and silver, or navy and white?”

“Um.” In all the chaos, the ball had slipped her mind entirely. Although she owed Lowry nothing, she couldn’t help feeling another pang of guilt. All this planning, all this effort, would be for nothing. She would betray him soon enough. “Black and silver are Danu’s colors.”

“So they are,” Lowry said. “So it shall be for my guest of honor. May I take your coat, my dear? I’ll see to it that Hannah hangs it up for you.”

A flash of movement past his shoulder drew Wren’s attention. In the grand hall below, Hannah was dusting a lacquered table with such care, it may as well have been a work of art. Unsubtle eavesdropping if she ever did see it. Wren removed her overcoat and passed it to him. Lowry folded it over his arm like a butler’s white serviette.

“Perhaps you’d like to assist me with the menu as well?” he said.