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Ezra poured his drink, drank it down in one swallow, and walked toward the desk as he pulled out his billfold. He said nothing as he saw Maria still holding her position and did not look her in the eyes despite her efforts to attract his attention. He pulled another two fifty-pound notes from his billfold and tucked them into the pocket of her dress before he tossed it at her.

This time Maria finally came down from her elbows and feet and stretched the dress around as she scrambled off the desk.

“Do you want to continue your work here?” Ezra asked curtly as she hurried to dress.

Maria froze, her eyes wide, and she stammered, “Yes, Your Grace.”

He stepped toward her, stopping until he was only a short pace away.

“Then I suggest you never step foot in this office again. Am I understood?”

Maria blushed deeply, but she hurried to finish dressing as she nodded.

“Yes, Your Grace,” she replied obediently.

Not bothering to fix the rest of her dress, Maria gathered her skirts, and after a quick curtsy, she left him. Unsure if he was now more or less frustrated by making her leave, Ezra locked his office door, poured himself another drink and focused on his work.

The next morning, after a night of little sleep, Ezra pounded the large brass knocker on his mother’s front door and waited. He could not remember the last time he saw Sophia. It might have been two or three years ago in passing at the opera. A few years prior to that he recalled seeing her at the horse races. They never acknowledged one another; both of them were particularly careful not to let their paths overlap.

“Hello, Walter,” Ezra stated dryly as his mother’s butler opened the door.

The old man’s eyes widened, first with surprise, then with panic.

“Your Grace! How good it is to see you. I…I…”

“Rest yourself before you cause yourself a coronary, old man,” Ezra stated with a sigh, brushing past him. “Just tell me where she is.”

Ezra only made it a few steps into the foyer before he heard the soft, whistling sound of an incoming projectile, and he ducked his head just as a teacup smashed into the wall beside him.

“What are you doing here?” Sophia screeched, stomping toward him with clear hatred.

“Hello, Mummy,” Ezra retorted sarcastically, rising back up to his full height. He brushed imaginary dust off his shoulder as he added, “I see your hatred and venom have kept your beauty and aim as flawless as ever.”

“Not my aim,” she hissed back, loathing sparkling in her blue eyes.

“Oh, come now,” he cajoled, unbothered, “You would have struck me if I had not ducked. I would say that your aim is as accurate as ever.”

“What the hell do you want?” Sophia hissed, her small hands curling into fists.

Age really had not touched his mother at all, he realized as he took her in. A few lines by her eyes, yes, and she had a strand of gray in her hair here and there, but her vitriol for life had truly kept her otherwise well preserved.

“Your old friend Georgie stabbed me the other night,” Ezra stated, getting right down to business.

“I want to know why.”

Sophia grinned cruelly.

“I assure you, I have no idea what you are talking about,” she said sweetly. “But I do love to hear a good story.”

Sophia raked her eyes over Ezra in a way that made him cringe with disgust, then turned away from him, thrusting her nose in the air as she walked away.

“I hear that congratulations are in order. You are a married man now,” she said whimsically over his shoulder.

Though he told himself he would not be goaded by her, Ezra felt a shockwave travel through him, and he immediately began to follow her.

“They certainly are not,” he stated casually, catching up to her easily, “It was a simple business arrangement, nothing more. You know all about that though, don’t you? Is that not how you became Father’s wife?”

“You have always been good with your insults,” she praised, a condescending sneer on her face, “I assume you got that from me.”