Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
I can’t remember the last time I was so incensed. No one has been so antagonistic toward me in my life. So few have known me well enough to truly get under my skin.
In less than twenty-four hours, this stranger has managed to take away my control over my home and my money.
In the morning, I don’t wake to the sounds of hammering and footsteps carrying heavy items throughout the manor. I also don’t wake in my beautiful master suite to the image of cherubs darting through clouds.
I’m back where I started, in the damned duchess suite. Second in power once more.
Once Medora finishes helping me dress, I walk through the manor in silence. In the entryway, the grand staircase is only half finished, the dark tiles partially replaced with white marble. The intricate metalwork beneath the banister is halfway painted with gold. The mismatched sight makes my skin itch.
In the ballroom, half the drapes have been torn down, with the other half untouched. They’re a gaudy bright red that some ancestor, likely before Pholios’s time, selected. Who knows what became of the gold draperies I’d purchased? The old chandelier was removed from the ceiling and is resting in the middle of the floor. Apparently the fake duke didn’t even allow the workers to remove it before sending them off.
Light spots on the wall show where paintings once hung. Eryx has likely halted my shipment of new purchases to add life and color to the place. Mismatched furniture lines all the corridors. The windowsills are covered in sealant, from where a hasty patch job was done so as to not let any air into the manor, but it looks awful. Most of the windows weren’t even able to be replaced yet, so they, too, are mismatched.
Outside, the hedge maze is only mostly finished. The sculpture for the water fountain will never arrive. The lawn is partially trimmed. I don’t even see the gardeners out and about watering the plants, which they usually do at this time.
When I return indoors, I realize the quietness is due to more than just the missing workers. Where are all my servants? Damasus isn’t walking the halls. I can’t find the maids anywhere in the library or my parlor doing the dusting. It takes me ages just to locate Mrs. Lagos.
“Where is everyone?” I ask her.
I realize then that her eyes are red and glassy, but she holds herself as tall as such a short woman can.
“The duke,” she says, and duke comes out with such vehemence that I nearly step back, “has ordered that I let go half the staff. I’ve just finished informing the rest of them.”
I can’t speak for a full five seconds. “What?”
“I had to send them away. Without places to live or their final week’s wages. I begged the duke to allow me to—”
Before she even finishes, I’m stomping from the room. I tread the stairs like a rhino in a charge. Ruining my life wasn’t enough? Now he goes after my staff? Big mistake. I fairly kick open the study door.
Dyson sits sideways in an armchair, balancing a knife by the tip on one of his fingers. Argus leans against one wall with his arms crossed, and Eryx—he’s seated in my chair, looking at my account book.
“What have you done?” I shriek at him.
Dyson drops his knife, and Argus nearly loses his balance. Eryx’s eyes narrow as he looks up.
“You’ve let go half the staff?” I continue. “Am I to understand that these two idiots will be preparing our meals and cleaning the manor?” I gesture to the two idiots in question. “Or are you planning on cultivating the garden and dusting the bookshelves yourself? You do look more suited to that task than lounging in that chair.”
Eryx returns his attention to the desk. “I’ve hardly been lounging. I’ve had to go over all your purchases and double-check your math to ensure you haven’t bungled anything up.”
“Don’t change the subject. We’re going to hire back everyone you’ve let go, and you’re going to personally apologize to them all for the stress you’ve caused by making them homeless and destitute.”
Argus and Dyson go still. Each man holds his breath, as though waiting for something to happen.
“I’m not doing that,” Eryx says, not looking up from the account book.
“This is a massive estate. It needs a full range of staff members to keep it running. You can’t just—”
He finally looks at me, his demeanor totally unaffected. “I can and I have. That will be all, Duchess.”
I stride farther into the room, walking right up to the edge of the desk. “Is this more punishment? You mean to give me more work to do with only half the staff to manage the estate? Does it make you feel like a big man to exercise such control over people’s lives?”
Eryx rises from the desk, showing me that he doesn’t need to do a damn thing to be a big man. I sense movement behind me. In front, I see Argus take a step forward, his eyes glued to the duke. Eryx stays his grunts with a raised hand.
What were they going to do? Physically restrain me?
“The only thing I mean to do is be rid of you. If getting rid of half the staff accomplishes that, then I’ll consider it a success.”
My mouth drops open. “This isn’t about money at all, is it? You’re not being meticulous with the accounts because you’re worried a few necos have gone missing. You’re looking for proof that I’m unfit to rule this estate. You mean to force me to leave at the mere thought of living in less comfort and leaving all the renovations half done. You think that will accomplish anything? Well, you’re sorely mistaken. The only thing you’ve managed to do is to turn all your remaining staff against you and earn even more of my ire.”
“Oh no,” he deadpans. “Not more of your ire. Anything but that.”
My vision goes red, and just like it did the day my husband died, I feel my brain detaching from the rest of my body. Of its own accord, my hand reaches for a glass paperweight on the desk and throws it at Eryx’s head.
In a move too quick for my eyes to follow, Eryx catches it and sets it back down on the desk calmly.
Ooh. Anger as I’ve never known takes hold of me. I retrieve the paperweight once more and throw it on the floor by the window, where it shatters.
“Have fun cleaning that up yourself,” I say, “since you’ve hardly any staff to do it for you.”
“Unlike you, labor doesn’t scare me.”
He does not get to have the last word!
“I hope you burn in hell with all the devils for your crimes.”
“Pretty sure I’m already there,” he says, looking meaningfully my way.
“And you’re going to stay there, because I’m not leaving!” I turn from the room and exit the door before turning back. “Obviously I meant the estate in general. I’m leaving this office because I can’t stand the sight of your ugly face, you entitled ass.”
I slam the door behind me, then brace one hand against it as I try to get a hold of myself.
“W-o-w,” Dyson says, dragging the word out into three syllables. “I’ve never seen a woman so mad. You’ve driven a lady to swear.”
“She’ll need to get madder than that if we’re to be rid of her,” Argus says.
“Shush,” Eryx says. “She’s still here. I can hear her breathing on the other side of the door.”
I jerk away from the room as though I’d been burned. Then I flee.
I THOUGHT MY SISTER was the only one who could get under my skin like that, but that was before I met Eryx Demos. Ruining other people’s lives just to try to get to me? That’s a new low.
Anytime I feel as though I might burst from the fury I’m desperately trying to control, I imagine myself sitting astride Eryx with a pillow covering his head. When I remove it, I see Eryx’s eyes, unseeing in death. That’s what I want. I want him dead, knowing it was me who killed him, just like my husband.
Yet I can’t have that.
I can’t have anything close to that.
But the image sustains me as I lie awake in bed that night.
When Kyros knocks on my door, eagerness replaces my murderous thoughts. Finally, something to do about all of this.
“Your guest has arrived, Your Grace. I’ve taken him through the library. No one else knows he’s here.”
“Well done, Kyros. You have my deepest thanks. Will you send for Medora?”
My maid helps me to re-dress enough to be suitable for company. Then I pad quietly to my favorite place on the estate.
The man I find within is young and strong. Perhaps late twenties. Deep obsidian skin tone. His head is shaved, though he keeps a short beard. He’s in a fine jacket and tailored clothes, so he must do well for himself.
“Your Grace,” he says, bowing at my entrance.
“Thank you for coming, Mr.—?”
“Tomaras. Ilias Tomaras. At your service. I understand you are in need of some investigatory work.”
“Indeed.” I explain the situation for the second time that day. This time, however, I include all my suspicions and any details that might seem pertinent, like the strange exchange with Vander.
Ilias takes careful notes on a paper pad before him, which I like. It is beyond satisfying to have a man stand still and just listen. He is on my side, unlike everyone else, and he carefully takes in every word I say.
“I can see why you have concerns. They are definitely warranted, and I am happy to look into the matter. Have you kept any correspondences of the late duke’s?”
“I’m afraid not. I threw out everything of his upon his death.”
“That may slow things down, but it will certainly not stop me. Is there anything else I should know?”
“The fake duke employs a couple bodyguards of some kind. One of them is a really dangerous-looking fellow. He calls them Argus and Dyson.”
“Perhaps I will look into these two men in addition to the new duke. Find their connection.”
“That would be wise.”
Ilias nods. “I think this is all I need to get started. There’s just the matter of my pay.”
“Of course.”
“For a job like this, I charge three hundred necos. I require half up front and half upon delivery of the requested information.”
Only now do I remember that I have access to a monthly stipend that has been cut off until such a time as my personal purchases have been paid off. I have no means of paying the man .
I have grown far too accustomed to having endless funds at my disposal, clearly.
In an attempt to save face, I say, “Thank you for your time, Mr. Tomaras. I shall send my man to you with your first payment shortly. I am most eager for you to get started. With the new duke in control of the accounts, I shall have to make arrangements to acquire your pay. I will be in touch very soon.”
Ilias doesn’t waver at all at my proclamation. He tips his head. “Your Grace.”
“I trust you can see yourself out?”
“Certainly.”
Mr. Tomaras leaves, and embarrassment heats my cheeks. I had the man come all this way, only to not pay him for the job. Being a broke duchess is humiliating, and I am furious that Eryx has put me in this position.
He’s not even the real duke! He has no claim to my money, but I can’t even hire a man to invalidate him because I first need money. Perhaps that was all part of his plan when he cut off my stipend entirely.
I realize now that all my regular expenditures have to go.
I refuse to cry as I write a letter to Zanita, halting Sandros’s visits for the foreseeable future. I feel so pitiful, a penniless duchess who now can’t afford male companionship.
When I finally return to my bed, I lie completely alone. No Sandros. No release. Just pent-up energy and a name to curse into the dark hours.
Eryx Demos—if that’s even his real name—needs to go.
I suppose there are only two courses of action before me. I can return some of the jewelry and other fine things I’ve purchased, which will be embarrassing and make me look destitute, especially with how I fawned over everything in the stores. I just know word will somehow get back to my sister, and I cannot have that. I can’t even have Kyros pawn something for me, because everyone will assume he stole it and look for a reward from the duke for turning him over.
That means I need to find a way to get the money from Eryx.
Begging is out of the question, and it’s beneath me. I could try to steal it by going through Eryx’s things when no one is watching, but Eryx knows I want the money and is just waiting for me to do something that will allow him to take legal action.
So that leaves trading or blackmail.
If there’s something Eryx wants, I need to learn what it is, get it, and trade it for the money I seek. Or, if he has a secret he wants kept hidden, I need to learn it and force him to pay me for my silence.
It will be tricky, because I can’t use my traditional means of obtaining information. Normally, I just pretend to be vacant and aloof, and men will say all kinds of secrets in front of me. Eryx will never make that mistake with how outwardly antagonistic I’ve been toward him.
Which means I need to resort to spying.
Until I can pay Ilias Tomaras for the job, I’ll have to play the role of investigator myself.