LADY Frances stirred under the soft covers, the early morning light barely peeking through the thick curtains of the master bedroom. She reached out instinctively to the other side of the bed, but her husband was already gone. His absence left a cool imprint on the sheets, a sign that he had risen early for one of his usual morning walks.

Still half asleep, Lady Frances was about to turn over and drift back into the comfort of her morning routine when her phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand. Groggily, she reached for it, squinting at the screen.

Carlson.

Her heart tightened a little. It was now unusual for Carlson...