Odd. Very odd. Did Eryx come ahead of his belongings?

When I ask for the location of the fake duke, Mrs. Lagos directs me to the study.

“His Grace said he was going to familiarize himself with the accounts,” she says. “Perhaps you might offer a helping hand. He seemed a bit overwhelmed.”

I laugh. “I’ll do that.”

“That boy is in over his head.”

“He’s only a few months younger than I,” I say. Not to defend him but to see what Mrs. Lagos will make of that.

She harrumphs. “Women age up quicker than men. You might as well be twenty-five compared to him.”

“Don’t let His Grace hear you say it.”

“Oh, he shan’t. You, however, are always fun to gossip with, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lagos. I hold you in high esteem as well.”

She walks on with a blush in her cheeks.

Squaring my shoulders, I make for the late duke’s study, where he kept all his account books, correspondences, and everything else of import. After Pholios’s death, I used the room to handle the accounting, but for anything else, I prefer to use the parlor, where more natural light enters in through the windows. Or be outdoors in the gardens. The study always felt stifling, even with the improvements I made toit. Perhaps I should have knocked out the outer wall and put in more windows?

Something to consider once Eryx is gone.

I don’t knock, because whatever else, this is still my home. Not to mention that would be a sign of respect. Since I haven’t an ounce of it for Eryx, I barge right on in.

He’s buried in papers. They clutter the floors and desk. I believe I even see one stuck to the bottom of his unpolished boot. His hair is as unkempt as ever, and he has the top button of his shirt undone. Highly scandalous, yet again.

“I see your bodyguards are not in the room with you. Aren’t you afraid someone might murder you in the study?” I don’t know why it amuses me to keep bringing up his death. Perhaps because it will make me seem less suspicious. Perhaps the idea is titillating enough to carry me on another day. Or maybe I simply look for ways to belittle the man, because it is the little things in life that provide the most enjoyment.

He looks up, and I realize that he’s wearing a pair of reading glasses. Something about the sight is… off-putting. Normally, Eryx looks like a barbarian who lives in the woods and slays panthers with his bare hands. But with the glasses? He looks studious. He lookssmart. He somehow looks the part of a wealthy duke.

I hate them.

I hate him.

Attractiveandman standing in the way of everything I’ve ever wantedshould not go together.

Eryx scoffs. “They’re not my bodyguards. They’re my valets.” His eyes drift to the right corner of his gaze as he finishes the lie.

I won’t call him out. This time. “In that case, you ought to fire them.”

“Why?”

“Have you seen yourself? What are they doing with your hair? And what are you wearing? You look like an orphan.”

Eryx removes the glasses from his nose and plops them on the desk. “Because I don’t spend exorbitant amounts of money on clothing or hair pomade or whatever else gentlemen are expected to pamper themselves with? I’m a man, not a peacock. And speaking of money—” He reaches for a stack of papers before him, so there must be some method to the mayhem around him. “Would you care to explain these?”

He brandishes them in the air like they’re a weapon.

“What are they?”

“Bills. From the dressmaker, the shoemaker, the jeweler, perfumeries, cosmeticians. Then there’s the carpenter, the mason, needleworkers, painters, an arboretum, and the list goes on.”

I roll my eyes. “Have you missed all the signs of renovation throughout the manor? Did you think the finished rooms always looked this impeccable? Pholios didn’t exactly have an eye for these things, and the manor went years without a lady to maintain it. Since I spent all my time married to the late duke at his bedside, I hardly had time to perform my duties as duchess. I’ve only recently managed to begin updating everything.”

“And the dresses and jewelry? Am I to understand you were in need of updating as well?”