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The drawing room’s side door opened, and a blond-bearded man popped his head through. He looked directly at Helen. “I know you wished not to be disturbed, but I need to speak with you.”

Helen excused herself and stepped into the adjacent room with him.

This man was William Belgrant. He was her husband. And in the event of her death, all the power of the Crown would pass to him.

According to Mehlsanz, he had been working harder than anyone else to find the assassin, but that somehow made him more suspicious in Helen’s mind. If she was honest, he was the very last person she wanted to be responsible for the assassination attempt, but that was emotion talking, not reason, and she refused to let that blindside her.

Still, it made little sense for him to desire her death. Yes, he was the King consort and not the King regent, but there was no terrific discrepancy between the two, unless his political views were wildly different from what he claimed they were. And surely, fourteen years of marriage had taught her something of this man’s heart. He may have had the biggest motivation to kill her, but she couldn’t imagine him doing such a thing. At the moment, anyway.

Taking long, slow blinks with bags under his eyes, William led her to the other end of the L-shaped chamber, and motioned to the rather broad, elderly woman standing there--his aunt, Duchess Jezebel Belgrant. “She told me something that I thought you should hear,” said William.

“I believe I know the assassin’s motivation,” said the duchess.

Helen merely waited for her to elaborate.

“It has to do with your tendency to... ignore certain members of your council. Most members, in fact.”