“What other matter?” I asked. “Are you going to charge me for the wardrobe? You spent far too much on the garments, Mr. Vesper, and I might be indebted to you for years.”

“No. The clothes are a gift, Miss Neven. I speak of how you are late for work. Every. Single. Morning.”

I took a long sip of tea to hide my smile. I was purposefully late, just to irk him. “I’m afraid I cannot help that, Mr. Vesper. Every morning, there is some sort of carriage crash, and every market I have to pass through is so crowded one can hardly breathe, let alone move at a satisfactory pace.”

“You could either leave home earlier, wherever that might be, or reside here.”

“Hmm. A difficult choice.”

“Should we flip a coin then, Miss Neven?” he said with a hint of sarcasm, snapping the wrinkles from his paper.

That was when the word first bloomed in my thoughts. Exposé. I could write an essay on the Vespers, detailing how horrible they were. I could submit it to the paper, anonymously. But I would need more content than just detailing how they had stolen my home. I needed to find the dirt they were hiding beneath their perfect veneer.

“What’s the cause for that smile?” Phelan asked, and I realized that one had crept over my face.

I never had the chance to reply. The doorbell rang once, twice, thrice. A harbinger of an impatient guest.

Before Phelan or I could so much as move, the table shuddered between us, and Deacon crawled out from beneath it, leaping to his feet with a flush of guilt.

“I’ll get the door, Mr. Vesper!” the boy cried, and bolted down the hall.

Phelan hefted a deep sigh but remained seated, pouring himself another cup of tea.

I was taking my first bite of quiche when I sensed the visitor’s presence, like a winter shadow had fallen over the table. And then I saw him from the corner of my eye, standing on the threshold.

“Lennox?” Phelan said with surprise, rising to greet his brother.

I had thought about the moment when I saw Lennox Vesper again. Thought about it so many times that it often made me feel ill. But in my imaginings, the encounter had always happened in Hereswith. Not in Phelan’s town house, and not so soon.

It took everything within me—every breath, every thought, every beat—to refrain from exposing my true self.

But my merciless heart grew hungry.

I took a long sip of tea, my gaze fixed on the upside-down print of Phelan’s newspaper, but I watched the brothers from my peripheral vision.

“Lee,” Phelan said again, walking to meet his brother on the threshold. “Why have you come? I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Who is that?” Lennox asked, and I felt the prickling of his stare.