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“Forgive me, Your Grace, but it seems your account is maxed out. We have yet to receive payment for your last order of items.”

I don’t even blink. “How is that possible?” I signed over the amount just last week.

“There was some sort of holdup with your solicitor.”

Is that so?

Not a muscle on my face changes as I order my footmen to place my merchandise on the counter. “I will return shortly,” I inform the man.

“CHANGE OF PLANS,KYROS. We’re bound for Vander’s next.”

“Very good, Your Grace.” He hands me into the carriage, and after a ten-minute ride, we arrive outside the solicitor’s.

“You may accompany me inside, Kyros.”

My friend follows behind me, and though I don’t need him at my back, it feels good to have someone there.

“You’re about to see a different side of me,” I warn him. “Prepare yourself.”

“Sounds exciting.”

I march up the stairs of the building and bypass a frazzled secretary once inside, before letting myself into Vander’s office.

He looks up from his desk in surprise.

“Mr. Vander,” the secretary says, rushing into the room behind me. “Her Grace, the Duchess of Pholios, has arrived.”

“Yes, I can see that. Please be seated, Your Grace. The door, Alasdair.” The reedy man behind the desk adjusts his spectacles.

The door closes behind us. I take a seat in the offered chair, Kyros hovering over my shoulder. I adopt my usual tone and demeanor with men: casual and aloof.

“Mr. Vander, there seems to be some sort of mistake. I tried to pay for some items at the chandlers’ but was denied due to an overdue payment. Did you perhaps forget to send the money?”

The man steeples his fingers atop the desk as he eyes me like a fish he’s caught for supper.

“Oh, Your Grace, you have simply overspent. I noticed you’ve ordered quite a bit of changes to the estate. You have exceeded your monthly allotment. I’ve slated the overdue payment for next month, along with a surcharge to the agency for the fees that naturally accrue with such an oversight on your part.”

At my silence, the man continues. “Fear not, Your Grace. Mathematics are extremely difficult to master. The occasional slipup is understandable, but you have me to handle all that. I shall make sure you’re taken care of. Perhaps you’d like to discuss a budget? Or maybe you’d like me to approve your purchases before you make them in the future?”

Kyros has gone rigid behind me, as though he wishes to say something. I stand from my chair.

“Are you quite finished condescending to me?” I ask, my tone still neutral.

Vander looks surprised by the question. “Forgive me if my tone was too harsh, Your Grace. I only wish to help.”

“Help, you say? Perhaps you’d like to help me find a new solicitor, then?”

“Your—Your Grace?”

I place my hands on the man’s desk and lean forward, my voice turning sharper than a knife. “Tell me, Mr. Vander, does your wife know about the clubs you frequent at night?”

He blinks. “What are you—”

“How about the woman you’re keeping on Sixth Street? You know, the one you visit every other weekend when you’re supposed to be out of town visiting a wealthy client?”

“How do you—?”

“Tell me the answer to this mathematical equation, would you? If you take your wife and add the knowledge I intend to divulge to her, what does that equal?”