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The clerk sniffed. "Not my concern where they go after they leave."

"Your Grace! Admiral!"

Abigail turned to see Graham's solicitor hurrying toward them, his massive frame heaving with each labored step. Nedley's face, normally merely florid, had achieved an alarming shade of purple, with sweat streaming from his receding hairline

"Where have you been?” Nedley rushed over, breathing hard. His waistcoat was buttoned incorrectly, and deep, bruise-like shadows hung beneath bloodshot eyes. “I've sent three messages to Eyron Manor!"

"We received nothing.” Abigail said, clutching the man’s arm, afraid he was about to collapse right before her. He looked like a man who had been dragged through hell and then run over by the carriage that brought him there. “Where’s Graham? We've been searching London for hours."

"Not here." Nedley wheezed as he took her elbow, guiding them toward a small door.

He led them into a cramped consultation room with a scarred table and three mismatched chairs. As soon as the door closed, Nedley took a deep breath, smoothing his rumpled clothes.

"I fear I have grave news."

Elias stepped forward. "Out with it, man."

"His Grace has been..." Nedley paused and heaved a ponderous sigh before finishing in a rush. "He's been remanded to Hallowcross Asylum for overnight observation."

Abigail lowered herself into one of the rickety chairs. “An asylum?”

Elias swore, his face draining of color. "On what grounds?"

"Magistrate Gorse ordered him held for psychiatric evaluation." Nedley sank into a chair, the wood groaning under his weight. "Hollan's solicitor produced statements claiming His Gracesuffers from violent episodes—battlefield trauma that makes him dangerous."

"Preposterous!" Elias slammed his palm on the table.

"Why would Hollan go this far?" she asked, seeking some tether to reason in the whirlwind of insanity. "It's as if he's trying to ruin Graham, not just steal the girls’ inheritance."

Nedley sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I don't believe he planned it. He’s not that clever. I think these statements were prepared for the custody hearing to paint His Grace as unstable. But once the duke was detained, Hollan seized the opportunity."

What was worse? Deliberate malice or opportunistic cruelty? It hardly mattered. Graham was sitting in an asylum when it was the rest of the world that had gone mad.

"A man like Hollan doesn't plant traps," Elias said grimly. "He just walks around with matches, waiting for something to burn."

Abigail stood, forcing her mind from outrage to action. "How do we get him out? It’s past midnight. Our case is to be heard at eleven tomorrow morning."

"I've exhausted every legal avenue," Nedley said, defeat etched in every line of his weary face. "I've invoked his title, his service record, his position at St. Bartholomew's. I've offered bail, guarantees, character witnesses. The magistrate was unmoved.His Grace will remain at Hallowcross until he’s been evaluated by a physician and deemed fit.”

This cannot be happening."Then we go to Hallowcross ourselves," Abigail said, already moving toward the door.

"The asylum director, Dr. Wrenn, is notoriously rigid," Nedley warned, gathering his papers. "He won't be swayed by titles or tears."

"Then perhaps he'll be swayed by truth," Abigail said. "My husband is not mad. He's a decorated physician who has been systematically targeted by an unscrupulous man, who does not hesitate to manipulate children and circumstance for his benefit. I will not leave until this Dr. Wrenn understands that."

Nedley looked between them, then sighed. "I'll send word to the Court of Chancery explaining the situation. Perhaps they'll grant a delay."

“Very good. Thank you, Mr. Nedley.” She moved to the door with Elias at her side. “We will send word, but one way or another, we will see you at the hearing.”

“Good luck, Your Grace,” the solicitor said as they left.

They hadn’t even made it outside before Elias began his objections. "Hallowcross isn't like other hospitals," he warned. "I've seen it. It's a warehouse for the unwanted, not a place of healing."

She paused on the front steps. A light drizzle had started. The droplets cooled her face and resolve. She met his gaze. "Then we must be swift."

The admiral nodded, looking both relieved and wary. "They won't let you see him easily."

"Let them try to stop me."