“Point taken,” Sophia said solemnly, but Talia had only reaffirmed that neither of them knew who Lady Vic would be when those walls fell, and that was more than enough intrigue for Sophia to want to blow them up.

••••

Vic sat at her father’s desk, breathing in the scent of worn leather and furniture polish. They were two of the three smells she associated most strongly with her childhood. Now if only his cologne were added to the mix, she might begin to actually relax. Then again, if he were home, she likely wouldn’t be in here. She had her own office, in another part of the estate, but it was modern and bright and filled with other people most of the day. She generally enjoyed being around them, working with a common purpose, never having too much time to get lost in abstract thoughts. Only she wasn’t supposed to be in the land office this month either. She was supposed to be in Scotland with her whole family. Which brought her mind right back to why she’d returned, seeking sanctuary in the very room where she now sat, still feeling unsettled, as unsettled as she had been under the constant shadow of her mother’s persistent disappointment.

She’d begun to suspect there were no more uncomplicated spaces for her when a little clinking sound stirred her from her musing.

At first, she wasn’t sure she’d actually heard anything at all, but when the sound came again, distant and small, she turned her ear. The cleaning staff had already been in this area during the day, and there shouldn’t be anyone clinking glasses in the dining room or kitchen, but when the sound came again, she realised that’s exactly what it was, clinking glass.

She slowly spun the chair to face the windows behind her. The sun was hidden behind clouds that had threatened to break open all evening. They cast an unseasonably gloomy pall over the grounds, but even in the dim light, she caught sight of a tiny flash of something hitting the glass pane the next time she heard the sound. Rising, she walked over to stare down into the courtyard just as another item, clearly a little pebble this time, plinked against the window, and there at the bottom of its trajectory stood Sophia LeBlanc.

Throwing open the sash, she rested her hands on the sill and said, “May I help you?” only her voice sounded much more amused than she’d intended.

“Why, yes, yes you can.” Sophia stared up at her with a Cheshire grin. “I need your help killing something.”

“Excuse me? What are you suggesting we kill?”

Sophia held open one side of her jacket to show a hidden parcel. “This bottle of gin.”