The sound of the door opening was not what startled Kingsley—it was the familiar click of heels, too fast, too confident to be any of the house staff. He looked up from the armrest of the leather couch, where he’d been half-reclining with a phone still clutched in his hand, Katherine’s voice lingering in his thoughts like a fading perfume.

“Kingsley,” came the voice—sharp, composed, and entirely too early.

He sat up slowly.

Beth stood in the foyer, her silk trench coat ...