Sebastian wished he were calm enough to sit back down and review the details of the staff with Thaddeus, try to persuade him to give all of them a chance, even though Thad was rightfully proud of his ability to make a quick, decisive decision. And even though some of the staff was still a work in progress—progress Sebastian had been making, with Ana Maria’s guidance.

But he couldn’t spend another minute here, not without unleashing his anger, and nobody here deserved that.

“I’ll see you later, cousin.”

He spun on his heel and walked out of the solicitor’s office, ignoring Thaddeus calling his name, nodding at the clerks who were working outside. Maintaining his ducal facade even as his world was crumbling around him.

Hours later, Sebastian was exhausted, hungry, and thirsty. He’d spent the time since leaving the solicitor’s office pacing through the streets of London, his mind obsessively churning the information over and over again, as though that would change the outcome. Finally, unable to walk any longer, he returned home. As though home was his home.

He didn’t have a home anymore. He didn’t own anything anymore.

He wasn’t who he’d thought he was anymore.

He’d never truly appreciated the Duke of Hasford’s town house until it wasn’t his any longer, but as he approached the house he viewed it as others did; the most opulent house on the street, it had over two dozen windows in the front alone, enormous pillars serving no apparent purpose beyond declaring that the owner of the house had so much money he could spend it on useless pieces of marble.

It was elegant and extravagant and shameless.

Rather like him, he thought remorsefully. And like the pillars, he was just as useless. Not even propping up the aristocracy.

“Welcome home, Your Grace.” His butler, Fletchfield, hesitated for the slightest fraction before saying his honorific. Meaning the news had already spread here, at least to his butler. No doubt it had already spread through most of Society; that a duke could be de-duked, as it were, would be a scandal for the ages.

“Thank you, Fletchfield.” Sebastian gave his hat and coat to the butler. “Whiskey in my office. I’ll be down after I change.”

“Yes, Your . . .” But the butler’s words were lost as Sebastian sprinted up the stairs to his bedroom, turning the knob and flinging the door open.

His valet, Hodgkins, was there, treating him as he usually did. So the news likely hadn’t reached beyond Fletchfield. It would, of course, and Sebastian wished he could assure them, all of them, that they would be fine even if he wasn’t, but he couldn’t make that guarantee, even though he knew Thaddeus would do the right thing. They’d be fearful of losing their positions no matter what—his mother had terrorized them enough during her tenure.