Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
N ico puts his finger to his lips, the signal I usually give him when the duke is sleeping. I relax instantly. Of course he doesn’t think anything different.
He whispers, “Catch me if you can, Duchess.” Then he bolts back out the doorway.
I give chase.
“Did you really just come find me with crumbs on your chin and no sweets to share?” I call after him.
Nico shrieks with laughter. He is surprisingly fast for being so little. He slides down the banister at the stairs, while I have to take them slowly because of the heaviness of my skirts. When I hit the ground, I take off at a run once more, finally gaining on the boy. He pumps his little arms, and just before I’m upon him, Kyros rounds the corner with the duke’s breakfast tray.
I scoop Nico up into my arms and twirl him in the air. His giggles lighten my heart, and I reach down with one arm to tickle his tummy before setting him back on the floor. His laughter feels so right in this large manor. It is finally a place where we can all be happy. The duke is dead.
Dead.
Dead.
Dead.
I don’t think there’s a sweeter word.
“What are you two up to?” Kyros asks.
“Father, the duchess was indignant that I didn’t bring sweet rolls to share with her.”
“I would have tickled you, too, for such an oversight,” Kyros says.
“I’ll get more for us all!” Nico darts for the kitchens.
Kyros has nothing but love in his eyes as he watches the child run away. “We best return quickly, before the duke grows incensed, Your Grace.”
I say, “He fell back asleep, so I thought to escape for a moment.”
Kyros nods in understanding, and together, we return to the master suite.
It is hours before anyone realizes the duke isn’t breathing.
I N THE DAYS THAT FOLLOW , nothing bad happens. No one suspects a thing. The man was dying anyway. Why should foul play be involved? Besides, everyone thinks me too stupid to even conceive of murder. I’ve made sure of that.
I wear black to the funeral, manage fake tears on Pholios’s behalf, keep my face buried in a silk handkerchief gifted to me by the dead man himself with our initials embroidered on it. Father comforts me and brings me flowers; he even asks if there’s anything he can do to help manage the estate. He’s quite pleased with me, since my brideprice saved him from ruination. Father may be an earl, but his estate was bankrupt. I was bankrupt until I married Pholios.
Now his fortune is mine to do with as I choose. No man can tell me how to spend it. Not even my own father.
I’ve done it.
I’ve attained what so few women have managed.
True freedom.
The first thing I decide to do with that freedom is explore the estate and get to know my staff. Pholios never let me venture far from him. I was to take all my meals at his bedside. I was to be there when he woke up and long after he fell asleep. The duke mentioned many times that he was going to get his money’s worth out of me. I was his property, he said.
In the end, I think he realized he was sorely mistaken about who had control over whom.
“Your Grace, it is so good to see you again,” Mrs. Lagos, the housekeeper, says when she meets with me in the parlor.
I have seen her only a few times since I first set foot inside this dreary manor, when all the staff greeted me in the entryway as their new lady.
Mrs. Lagos looks about as formidable as a kitten, at four feet, eleven inches tall, but gods help anyone who tries to defy her claim that she’s an even five (I overheard a particularly nasty conversation to that effect). Her hair is black as night, and her skin is white as ivory. With oval eyes and not a wrinkle in sight, it’s impossible to guess her age, and I dare not ask her.
“You as well, Mrs. Lagos. Thank you for meeting with me.”
“Of course. How can I be of service?”
“I would like to make some changes to the estate. I hoped you might be up for helping me.”
“Certainly. What changes?”
I want my staff to adore me. I want them to want me to be their mistress. It’s the best way to ensure a seamless transition, and I don’t want anyone to question the control I now have. There is a very simple means to achieve that from the start.
“I’d like to raise the wages of the staff by twenty percent.”
Mrs. Lagos blinks slowly, as though she didn’t quite hear me. Then she grins. “You and I are going to get on well, Your Grace.”
“Excellent, because I have plans for lots of redecorating…”
First things first, the master suite. I order it gutted. Every single item is moved to storage, from the bed to the draperies to the carpet. I refurbish the entire room so it looks like Pholios never once stepped foot in it. I want it free of anything that could possibly remind me of him.
I’ve always been fond of pink, and I find a delightful bedspread in a dusty rose that immediately draws my attention at Matilda’s Shop. I decorate the whole room to match. White wallpaper with sporadic chrysanthemums, after my namesake. A white oak four-poster bed with mesh hangings. Gold filigreed armchairs with plump white cushions. An elaborate vanity, painted ivory with more gold knobs. I have the ceiling painted with the colors of the daytime sky with rosy-cheeked cherubs darting through the clouds.
While that’s being done, Mrs. Lagos prepares the rest of the manor for renovation. I don’t want any reminders of the horrible man who once darkened this home, so she sees to it that all the old paintings and vases and any other heirlooms of the Pholios family are removed to the attic, until they can be sold. Until my yearlong mourning period deemed mandatory by society is up, I’m not permitted to attend events or take social calls.
And yet, not even a week goes by before the letters start pouring in. I glance over mere snippets before tossing them all in a pile near the fireplace.
I was saddened to hear of your husband’s death, Your Grace. Should you need any comforting, I hope you will call on me.
This from the Earl of Barlas.
Do not dwell on sadness, Your Grace. It is best to look on the future with hope. Might I call on you soon?
From the Earl of Varela.
I have admired you from afar for so long. Now that you are free to choose your own path, might I throw my hat in the running?
From the Duke of Simos.
And then one terribly embarrassing bit that makes my cheeks blush.
A woman in your position deserves all the pleasures life has to offer. Be my mistress, Duchess Pholios, and I will keep you satisfied.
From the Baron of Moros, who is already married.
I’ll not be anyone’s mistress. I’m done with men telling me what to do, whether it’s in the bedroom or not. The correspondences remain thoroughly ignored, though I do read them from time to time when I feel in need of revitalizing. It is a boost to one’s self esteem, even if such attentions are unwanted.
At least from powerful men.
For years I’ve dreamed of the day when I will be the one with the power, free to seek out relationships of my own choosing. I have been alone all my life, denied the simple pleasures of romantic companionship as a highborn lady. The second my mourning period is over, I have every intention of putting an end to that loneliness.
I will take a lover.
A handsome, poor—yet skilled—lover who will dote on me and love me and want nothing from me except for the earthly comforts I can give him.
Men take mistresses all the time, and as a dowager duchess, I may do the same. It is unconventional but not unheard of. I will have the power and standing to withstand any scrutiny I receive as a result. And besides, I’ll obviously find someone who can manage to be discreet.
But that’s not an option for another eleven months and two weeks. In the meantime, I focus on making new friends around the manor or supervising the improvements to the estate. Handymen can be heard hammering and sawing at all hours during the day. Painters and carpenters and mason workers come and go under the watchful eye of Mrs. Lagos and my staff. It’ll take months, or even years, before the entire place is refurbished, but that’s to be expected when I’ve inherited an estate only second in size to the royal palace of Naxos.
Alessandra’s palace.
A FTER M RS . L AGOS , THE FOOTMEN are the next to be won over. Kyros properly introduces me to the rest of them, and they are delighted to hear that I’m interested in learning how to play the game of hach.
“You want to play a card higher yet in the same suit,” Doran explains while Kyros looks over my shoulder.
I grab a queen of rubies.
Kyros leans down by my ear. “Not that one. It’s too high. You want to save it. Play this one.”
He sets the six of rubies face up on the table, beating the five played earlier in the round.
“I think she gets it,” Plutus says with a glare as I scoop up his card. “You can stop helping her now.”
“Don’t be a bad sport,” Kyros fires back. “You’ve been playing this game for years. She’s just learning.”
“You’re the one who invited her. If she can’t keep up, that’s her problem.” Realizing what he’s just said, Plutus pales. “Forgive me, Your Grace, I forgot—”
“It’s quite all right, Plutus. Perhaps if I make things a bit more interesting, your mood might improve.” I pull a necos from my pocket and lay it on the table.
“We can’t match that,” Doran says, staring at the coin.
“Then play what you do have. Did I not just raise all your wages? Or are you afraid that I’ll take all your money?”
I don’t win a single game that night, but I demand a rematch for the next.
Kyros and Nico join me for picnics on the lawns when the sun is out, where the little boy will pick wildflowers for me, and Kyros and I will talk about everything and nothing. Nico shows me his favorite trees to climb, and I show him which fruits are ripe for picking—as well as which poisonous plants to stay away from. Sometimes, I teach the boy lessons at the piano, which I’ve always been fond of playing. I spared no expense in upgrading the fine instrument.
“You spoil him,” Kyros dares to suggest a few weeks into my new dowagerhood.
“Giving a child music is not spoiling. Besides, I like spending time with him.”
A large cloud streaks across the sun, dampening the rich verdancy of the trees and surrounding lawns. Kyros leans back on two hands atop our picnic blanket.
“And is that how you imagined spending your time as a dowager? Teaching a servant’s child to play piano?”
“I certainly imagined a lot less complaining from the child’s father.”
Kyros crooks a grin. “In earnest, though, are you happy?”
“Happier than I ever remember being.”
“You don’t leave the estate often. I thought you’d want to be away with people of your own station. Or inviting them over at the very least. Instead, you spend your days baking with Cook, playing cards with the footmen, and teaching Nico the piano.”
“That’s hardly all. I’ve just formed a book club with Damasus, Karla, and Tekla. We’re exchanging novels before meeting up to discuss them.”
Kyros laughs. “A duchess who discusses books with her butler and maids.”
“Laugh all you want, but I am right where I want to be. My father forced me to attend every social function, primp and preen at every ball, tolerate the presence of every foul man. Now I spend my days with who I wish when I wish. My servants are the finest individuals I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. I don’t need to seek out the false flattery of noblewomen or the unwanted attention of gentlemen. I read when I wish. I’m out in nature when I wish. I enjoy the company of my horse, a four-year-old boy, and yes, my butler, in addition to everyone else on this estate. It is perfection, and what can be improved, I’m already well on my way to renovating. Now, will you stop scolding me and let me enjoy my hard-earned comforts?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Kyros’s warm smile matches mine, and I recline onto the soft cotton of the checkered blanket. There is a feeling of levity in my chest, and it takes me some time to place it.
This is what it feels like to be happy , I realize.
Speaking my thoughts and having someone else care to listen. No men trying to boss me about or control me. Doing activities I actually enjoy. Being myself around people who care.
This. All of this was worth every hardship I suffered since my mother died.
I am untouchable, and it feels so good I could almost fly.
W HEN I LEAVE THE ESTATE, it is a different matter entirely.
I’m required to wear black in public as a symbol of my grief. Over a month after the duke’s death, I don an ebony dress with a simple hoop skirt and a tight bodice. Long sleeves. No veil. The whole thing looks depressing, yet it’s what I must be seen in while I run my errands. Just ten and a half more months and I can do away with this charade, too.
I’m in the chandlers’, selecting new candles for the dining room, with a row of footmen behind me to assist with my purchases, when someone approaches me from the side.
“Your Grace?”
I turn to find Lady Evadne Petrakis, daughter of a marquis, doing some shopping of her own. We run in the same social circles, so naturally we’ve met countless times, but I wouldn’t call her a friend. She’s more like a frequent acquaintance. Not that it’s easy to call anyone a friend when I have hidden my true self from the world for seven years.
“Lady Petrakis, how are you?”
“I’m wonderful! And you? You must be so proud of your sister. Marrying the king!”
I force a smile to my lips. “The king was bound to pick someone eventually. What of you? Has anything of note happened in my absence from events? I’ve missed out on so much gossip since my wedding.”
“A few betrothal announcements, but nothing else of note. Nothing scandalous ever happens now with all the future queen’s new edicts.”
“Edicts?” Alessandra is making laws? Her?
“Oh yes. Women don’t have to wait for marriage before taking part in… intimate relations. Fathers are no longer allowed to accept brideprices for their daughters. In fact, they’re required to pay their daughters dowries upon their marriages to whomever they please, a sum reasonable to the father’s yearly wage.”
“What?”
“Oh yes. Some noblemen were rather upset about it, but the king had them beheaded for the threats they dared to throw toward the future queen. No one utters so much as a hint of protest against the new laws now.”
“How many new laws have there been?” I ask.
“I’ve lost count, to be honest. Just last week she decreed that lands and titles are to pass down to the eldest heir, regardless of sex. Oh, and younger daughters no longer have to wait until older daughters are out in society before attending events as they please.”
I blink several times, processing her words. “And the king just allows this?”
“He encourages it. His name appears beside hers on every new law. The people say he’s utterly smitten by his future bride and would never deny her anything. They’re already calling her the Shadow Queen.”
More of that anger and bitterness claws its way through me. Alessandra was supposed to be a bargaining chip, like me. A way for Father to get out of debt and save his lands. But she’s making laws and gaining favor with all the women of the court. She has freedom and happiness—in exchange for what? What has she suffered? She hasn’t earned it. Not like I have.
I remind myself that I have everything I want now. I’m happy. That is all that matters. I take a fortifying breath and feel calm once more.
“Oh dear,” Evadne says, “did I speak too quickly? I know you have a hard time with that sometimes.”
Yes, because everyone thinks I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot while Alessandra is a powerful monarch.
“I’m all right,” I say. “Just a bit dazed. I think I’ll pay for my merchandise and go.”
“All right, then. It was lovely chatting with you. I’m hosting an event in a few months’ time, by the way. I’ll send an invitation. Any relation of the Shadow Queen’s is welcome at my estate.”
“Thank you,” I say, “but I’m not permitted to attend events until my mourning is over. The duke died, you will recall.”
“Oh, that’s another thing the future queen has done away with. Women don’t have to undergo a mourning period. Nor do you have to wear black.” She looks over my dress with sympathy. “You are, of course, free to make your own decision regarding the matter, but no one expects you to show respect to a man almost four times your age. Good day, Duchess.”
When I look down at the two long-stemmed candles in my grasp, I find that I’ve snapped them both in half with my grip.
As Lady Petrakis exits the shop, I stare after her. Why haven’t I read the papers? How could I have let all of this sneak up on me? When living with the duke, I always escaped to literature. To fiction, where I could pretend to be going on grand adventures or solving an intricate mystery alongside my favorite heroines.
I’ve missed so much. Alessandra snuck up on me.
It’s not that I ever wanted power or to rule anything, really. I only ever wanted my own freedom. Now I have it, but it feels… cheapened. It feels like less when I compare it to what my sister has.
And now I have no excuse not to attend her damned wedding.
If I simply skip it, she’ll know she’s won. That I’m too ashamed or jealous to attend. I can’t let her think that at all.
Really, what has she won? Constant scrutiny from those she rules over. A life of catering to her husband. So much responsibility.
I’m glad the Shadow King didn’t pick me. Being a dowager duchess is far superior. I’m not like Alessandra, who is petty and vain and self-centered. I don’t need attention and pampering. All I’ve ever wanted is to be left alone to control my life. I have that, so it’s time to start exercising more control. More changes.
I’ll expand the library. More books, yes, that’s what I need. I don’t have to mourn? Fine. Good. Great.
Then I won’t wait any longer to find myself a lover.
Alessandra has her king, a man who will soon tire of her antics and eventually seek to control her, but imagine if I showed up to her wedding with a man of my own in tow? One who obeys me. One who is there to please me. One who is far more handsome than Kallias Maheras.
That ought to get her attention.
With my new resolve, I approach the pay station.
The man behind the counter asks for my account number. After I recite it, he checks through his records before placing a forced smile on his face.
I know that look. He’s about to deliver uncomfortable news.
“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.
“ C HANGE OF PLANS , K YROS . 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?”
He’s finally speechless.
“Or how about this one? If I subtract my business from your establishment and then use my considerable reach as a duchess to convince the rest of the nobility to move their business elsewhere, too, what does that equal?”
His face pales.
“Did you think me some easy mark? The poor, simple, newly widowed woman too overwhelmed by her new responsibility? My monthly income would put the Shadow King to shame, and you think I’ve overrun my accounts by refurbishing the estate? I could buy dozens of estates on my income. I’ve been through the account books, the dukedom’s revenue, and Pholios’s usual expenditures. Then there are the new investments I had you arrange, which have nearly doubled the estate’s revenue. Or did you think I wouldn’t check up on those?
“And you? You do not tell me what to do with my money. Pholios is dead. His entire fortune and holdings are mine . You will pay the chandlers the sum owed to them. Plus a generous sum to make up for the mistake, which will come from your account. Not mine. This will not happen again. I will not be forced to come to these wretched offices again to remind you of your place. If you so much as misplace a single necos in the future, you will not like the consequences. Do you understand me?”
The silence is so acute I can hear Vander swallow. “I understand.”
“Your Grace.”
“I understand, Your Grace.”
“Good. I look forward to a long and profitable relationship for us both. Good day, Mr. Vander.”
Kyros opens the door for me, and I don’t look back as I exit.
Only once we’re outside does he say anything.
“I wanted to clap.”
I offer him a small smile as I turn my head. Then I bow as though I just finished some grand performance and received my standing ovation.
“Different side of you, indeed,” Kyros says. “You are sensational.”
I have never once blushed in a man’s presence, but I’ve never been complimented on something that matters before. It’s quite heady.
Before I can respond, Kyros asks, “Why continue to do business with him? Why not carry out your threat?”
“Because I’ve put him in his place now. He will not try to take advantage of me again. Besides, any new solicitor I sign with will try the same thing. Then I’ll have to go through this scenario all over again.”
“And how did you know all of that information? About his mistress and the clubs?”
“He joked about it with Pholios while we were drawing up the papers for the marriage agreement.”
“And he forgot you were there?”
“He thought me irrelevant.”
“How is that possible?”
I take the remaining steps to the carriage, and Kyros reaches for the door. “Because it’s what I wanted him to think.”
Kyros shakes his head as I duck inside. “And what is it that you want me to think?”
“That I’m your very capable employer.”
“I already knew that,” he says as he shuts the door.