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“And then we have your birthday cake!” declared Violet as she picked up a stick and threw it into the opposite corner of the courtyard. All three dogs sprinted after it. “We made it ourselves as Mrs. Nicholson said she didn’t have time to do it as she was busy with dinner.”

Hazel sighed. “She thrust a cookbook into my hands and told us to just bake the cake. But we didn’t have all the ingredients, and I didn’t know if the oven was too hot or not…so it’s slightly burned.”

Nathaniel’s chest tightened. “Thank you, Hazel, I’m sure it’s going to be delicious.” Though Violet had said, “We made it,” he knew the twins had probably hindered more than helped.

What he wanted to say was that she was Lady Hazel, the sister of a duke, and she shouldn’t be cooking at all. She shouldn’t be helping Mrs. Nicholson with washing, cooking, shopping, and housekeeping. All because of his papa’s will, forcing Nathaniel to behave like Papa wanted him to even after he was long dead. Only a man like Papa could control the destiny of several people from beyond the grave.

And today he was nine and twenty, and had only one year to claim his rightful inheritance. He was out of time.

“Let me go and not keep Mr. Cadden waiting for me any longer,” he said. “Hazel, could you please ask Joshua to take care of Hermes?”

“I wanted to be present at your meeting,” said Hazel. “Perhaps he found a solution.”

Violet’s eyes sparkled. “And then we can finally come out!”

Nathaniel sighed deeply. “You aren’t supposed to come out for a while, girls. You are only fifteen.”

“Some come out at fifteen!” declared Poppy.

“But even if we don’t, Hazel should!” said Violet.

Hazel rolled her eyes. “I, for one, do not want to.”

Nor could she with manners like that. It was his fault, once again. With their mama deceased and no money to hire a proper governess. Not that he had even tried.

“I don’t care about coming out,” said Hazel. “I just don’t want you to imprison some rich woman into a marriage she doesn’t want. Like I wouldn’t want to be imprisoned.”

Nathaniel sighed. “Girls, please go and find Joshua. I have to see Mr. Cadden. He has waited long enough. I’ll see you later for dinner.”

He patted the dogs, who had returned with the stick, and climbed the crumbling stone stairs leading up to the servants’ entrance into the mansion. He walked down the long stone hallway, the soles of his shoes echoing off the wooden floor. Several doors lined the corridor, and he saw Mrs. Nicholson through the open door to the kitchen as she stood with her back to him, stirring the stew. The small, latched door next to it was the pantry, and the wider archway opened into the laundry area. There was no hum of activity that underpinned the life of the grand house like Nathaniel remembered from when he had come to the kitchens for a snack as an adolescent.

The aroma of the simple stew reached him. They had been eating stew—and not much else—for years now, as Mrs. Nicholson was not a great cook. But she had done her best to keep them fed after he’d had to let the cook go. The rest of the rooms were quiet, though this part of the house was big enough to accommodate a full staff of at least thirty people.

Nathaniel went through the door leading to the family quarters. The lack of portraiture was evident, stark patches on the walls indicating where majestic oil paintings had once been.

He strode through the grand entrance to the vast chamber that had once hosted elegant dances and high society gatherings. The chandelier hanging high above his head was missing several crystal pendants, their loss casting erratic shadows across the worn floor. The room was completely empty; even the curtains were gone. He remembered how full it used to be when his mama had hosted events here, glittering with light reflected from crystals and mirrors, as well as diamonds, rubies, and sapphires on the guests.

When he entered the drawing room, Mr. Cadden had already stood up, picking up the stack of papers from the tea table. A man in his fifties, he had a balding head of gray hair, small spectacles, and a round belly.

This room felt bare, too, considering its large size. Only a two-seat sofa and a single high-back chair stood there. All three were threadbare, their patterns a ghost of their former vibrancy. On the windows, the absence of velvet drapes allowed the afternoon sunlight to illuminate the room, the dust particles dancing in the golden rays. The place where the pianoforte should have been stood empty. There was no coal in the grate in the fireplace. No table to play cards. No paintings to look at as ladies and gentlemen had tea or read to each other.

Nathaniel could still see how beautiful and dignified this house had been and should be. And he wanted to make it so again, for his sisters. He wanted to be able to dress them in the finest fashions, see them as well treated and as well fed and happy as princesses.

“Ah, Your Grace,” Cadden said, a deep frown pulling down his jowly face. “I didn’t think you’d come. I can’t stay much longer, in any event.”

“I apologize. Something urgent kept me.” His own forgetfulness…and then the gorgeous, infuriating little vixen. “I have your payment.” He went into the pocket of his uniform and retrieved the banknotes, laying them on the tea table in front of Cadden. “Please tell me you have come with good news.”

Cadden gave him a deep sigh and looked at the papers in his hands. “I’m afraid not, sir.”

Nathaniel’s heart sank. “What? Not at all?”

Cadden sighed. “I know how much you wanted this.”

Nathaniel’s stomach dropped into his heels. “You said there was a loophole. You said we could deem my father’s requirements upon his heir illegal.”

Cadden nodded. “I did. But I failed. Your father’s lawyers were very skilled. The will is ironclad.”

Nathaniel cursed. Desperate rage rushed through him in a prickly, white-hot wave. He clenched his fists, itching for a vase or something to smash to hell.