Thaddeus clamped his mouth shut, and Sebastian saw a muscle tic in his jaw. That’s when he knew Thad wouldn’t argue. It was his tell, and Sebastian had taken advantage of it over many card games. But this was one situation where Thad had the winning hand—even though he did not want it.

Sebastian slid the documents back toward the solicitor as he rose out of his chair. Feeling his jaw clench. “I will leave you and the Duke of Hasford to continue your discussion. I presume there is nothing further?” His tone made it clear it would be a presumption if there was.

The solicitor shook his head. “Thank you for coming, Your—that is, Mr. de Silva.”

He suppressed a wince at his name. He’d have to grow accustomed to it.

He addressed Thad, noting his cousin’s severe expression. Once again, the cousins were in perfect agreement. “I’ll vacate the town house as soon as possible, Your Grace. I was planning to launch Ana Maria into Society, so you’ll have to take that over. She deserves it.”

Whatever happened, at least he knew Ana Maria would be secure. Even if she was also devastated by the turn of events. “I will be available to answer any questions you have regarding the estate management and the tenants and such.”

“Seb, you don’t have to go right away.” Thaddeus looked even grimmer. “This is a lot to absorb, and we’ll both need some time to adjust.”

Sebastian bit back whatever angry words he wanted to say—it wasn’t Thad’s fault that Seb’s mother had lied. Thad didn’t want the title just as much as Seb did. “I’ll find somewhere else to go. You’ll have to decide if you want to keep the staff. My valet, Hodgkins, will take this hard. If you don’t have anyone yet for that position, I’d recommend keeping him on.”

The change didn’t just mean change for him—it would alter his entire household. His valet, his secretary, the butler, the housekeeper. He had spent six months learning about these people now that he was their master, working with them, assuring them that he was not his careless father. And definitely not his demanding mother. Something he had been thwarted in doing until he had assumed the title. But now the title wasn’t his, after all.

He wanted to punch something, someone, but that wouldn’t do anything but make his knuckles sore.

“Of course. You can trust me to do what’s right.”