Page 20

Our gazes swivel to Vander simultaneously.

“Ah, yes, well. This is all a bit awkward, but I’m afraid, Duchess, that the late duke updated his will.”

“When?” I ask immediately.

“Before his death.”

I purse my lips. “It would be truly remarkable if he’d done so after his death, now, wouldn’t it?”

Vander coughs awkwardly and loudly into a handkerchief. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I wasn’t thinking. The duke changed his will after your marriage.”

“When?” I ask again. “Surely you have the exact date written down?”

A pause. “I’m afraid not. As long as I possess the most current will at all times, it’s not necessary to note the date.”

“And how are you to know if it is the most current version if you do not note the date?”

Vander says absolutely nothing in response. He’s eyeing Eryx, as though he expects the scammer to help him come up with a more clever response.

“I cannot fathom how my late husband entrusted you with all of his affairs when you seem entirely unsuited to the most basic of tasks, such as writing down a simple date.”

“Oh, leave the man be,” Eryx says. “Mistakes happen. It means nothing.”

“Nothing?” Apparently my future counts for nothing, but I will not be silenced so easily. “Where, then, did this change of the will take place? Here in the offices?”

“No, of course not,” Vander answers. “The duke was bedridden.”

“Then tell me, Mr. Vander.Howexactly did this change happen, because I was at the duke’s bedside for the entire two months of our marriage, and I don’t recall seeing you in the manor once.”

The room goes silent, and Vander’s confidence evaporates. His face turns white. Eryx looks only mildly inconvenienced.

“I’m certain I sent an assistant over to handle the proceedings,” Vander puts out lamely.

“Really? Which one?”

“Oh, well, I don’t rightly recall—”

“You’re telling me that my late husband, yourbiggestclient, wanted a major change to his will and you didn’t handle it yourself?”

Vander swallows.

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Not really,” Eryx says.

I ignore him. “At best, it sounds like your assistant made a mistake. That this inferior, untrained individual bungled up the last will and testament of my dear husband. And worst? I think this man”—I point to Eryx—“is no heir of the duke at all. I think the two of you are in cahoots. Tell me, Vander, did you put this plan into motion before or after my last visit? Is this payback? Or did you arrange for this when you thought I was a simpleton you could steal from?”

The solicitor reveals nothing, so I press on. “What did he promise you, Vander? Just how much of the duke’s fortune has he agreed to hand over in exchange for giving him wealth and a title?”

If it were possible, even more color has fled the solicitor’s face.

“That is a wildly inaccurate accusation,” Eryx says.

“Prove it,” I nigh spit out, “because I promise you I will not rest untilthe truth comes out. If I find out you’ve erred in the slightest, Vander, you will have hell to pay. Or you can come clean right now. Set the matter straight, and I will forgive the injury. We can go our separate ways, and the king never need be brought into this matter. Now, is there anything you’d like to say to me?”

This is a lie. I’m ruining this man whether he comes clean or not. His fate has been decided.

Vander squirms in his seat. He looks helplessly over at Eryx, who has leaned on the back two legs of his chair, as though he hasn’t a care in the world.