Page 42

Chapter 42

Rahk

Kat’s cousin lives in the city, so he sends a manservant with a copy of the will at once. I spend several hours poring over it. Then, when I inquire after Kat’s whereabouts and find out she’s trying to track down her horse, I take one of my own horses from my stables and ride out to Vandermore Manor.

“Is Lady Duxbury Vandermore home?” I ask the maid who answers the door.

The maid curtsies at once. “She is. Please come in, sir.”

The citrus scent of wood oil is the first thing I notice as the maid leads me to the parlor. Perfume floats on the air, not strong enough to induce a headache, but unpleasant still. A fresh wave of perfume—definitely strong enough to induce a headache—announces Lady Duxbury Vandermore’s arrival, as does the swish of her red gown. A curious second face, framed in curls, pokes around the corner before Lady Bridget steps fully into the room and curtsies with her mother.

I rise and offer a bow.

“Lord Rahk,” says Agatha, smiling as though we are friends. “What brings you here?”

“Have you decided to return Katherine?” Bridget asks, suppressing a giggle. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with her now.”

I don’t bother giving her or her comment the honor of acknowledgement. Instead, I slap the will on the table and take a seat, fixing my full attention on Agatha. “I’m here on matters of the late Lord Vandermore’s estate.”

“Oh, I don’t manage that,” says Agatha. A different maid brings tea, serving the three of us. I don’t touch my tea, though Agatha stirs a sugar cube into hers. While her spoon clinks against the china, a new scent makes me look up. The second daughter—whatever her name is—peers into the room until she catches me watching her. Her eyes widen, and she ducks back out. Her light footsteps scurry away. “The late Lord Vandermore’s cousin manages everything. Speaking of which, I must say that I am quite put out by your hiring of Mary. We relied on that girl—”

I cut in. “I understand you sold my wife’s horse without her permission.”

Agatha looks at Bridget, who is in the middle of sipping her tea. The daughter hesitates, glancing at me. Then she takes her cup and saucer and removes her odious presence from the room, much to my satisfaction. The delicate wrinkles on Agatha’s throat constrict as she swallows. “Oh, Lord Rahk, you must understand. It was an old horse—”

“You did sell it then.”

She places her teacup down with a rattle. “I had to! There was nothing else to be done. It was by Katherine’s own testimony that the horse kept throwing its shoes and having all sorts of issues.”

“Did you sell it without her permission?”

“Lord Rahk, as I stated, Katherine often complained of the horse’s many issues—”

I narrow my gaze at her and lean forward, dropping my voice. “Answer the question, Agatha. Did you sell it without her permission?”

The blood drains from her face, enough that I almost wonder if I’ve let the glamour on my wings slip. But apparently, I don’t need to reveal my wings to reveal that I am a prince of Nothril. When she does not answer, I ask in quiet calm, “Do you need me to repeat the question?”

“I did sell it without her permission,” Agatha finally admits, turning her pale face away from me. “I sold the horse to make Katherine cooperate. She is a foolish and headstrong girl. She has declined every offer of marriage that has come her way and obviously intended to stay single until her twenty-first birthday to avoid giving over her fortune. You should thank me for my work, because now you are the owner of her fortune.”

Something inside my chest turns liquid hot. I keep my voice controlled, however. “Who, exactly, sold the horse? Fetch them for me at once.”

A manservant named Charles is summoned. I question him until I have all the information I need. Once he leaves, I take the will and shift it closer to Agatha. She looks at it only long enough for her eyelids to shutter.

“I found some interesting things in this will.” I flip past the first page to the second. “This estate, the building and all the grounds, are included in Katherine’s fortune.”

If it is possible, Agatha goes even paler.

“This house does not belong to you or your daughters anymore. You will move out by the end of the week.”

“The end of the week?” she exclaims, pressing a hand to her heart. “But we have nowhere to go! Katherine wouldn’t want us to be turned out on the streets! Does she know you are doing this?”

I cock my head. “Nowhere to go? Then what have you done with the bride price I paid for Katherine? Have you spent it all already? That was a very handsome sum, more than sufficient for a new home.”

She clamps her mouth shut, her jaws working in tension.

“You have until the end of the week,” I repeat. “You will take your clothes, your accessories, and your particular belongings, but you shall leave everything else. The furniture, the staff, the decorations. Everything will be left as it is or I shall take you to the royal court for thievery. Because, as we’ve established, everything here belongs to me now, so if you steal, you steal from me.” I catch her eye, emphasizing the words so she knows just how serious I am. “I am not kind toward those who steal what is mine.”

Agatha pushes to her feet. “You have made yourself completely clear, Lord Rahk. Now, do you have any other claims against me you must make? Or is the house and everything in it enough for today?”

I stay seated as I regard her slowly. Then I rise to my full height, looking down at where she tries to posture herself as threatening. “Yes, there is one other thing.”

She visibly braces herself.

“I know about Lord Boreham.”

Her lips part.

“I know he’s your son,” I continue, keeping my tone measured despite the way my gut twists in fury. “I know you sold Katherine’s horse to force her into marriage with him. I know all of this was about trying to rob your own daughter—”

“Katherine isn’t my daughter!”

My lips pull back in a snarl. “You might have succeeded in your plan if you’d had the dignity to accept her as such.”

Her teeth flash. “Katherine was never interested in being my daughter. She was willful, difficult, self-absorbed, and cared nothing for the feelings of others.”

“In that case,” I say, picking up the will and tucking it under my arm as I stride toward the door, “you should be glad you no longer have to deal with her willfulness, difficulty, and selfishness. Instead, you will have to deal with me. And unfortunately, I think you will find a broken-hearted orphan is much easier to control.”

I leave before this woman wastes any more of my time. I’ve got a horse to locate.