“—I believe I understand, now.” Miriam nodded, outwardly cordially, at Baron Hjorth. Startled, he pretended to ignore her words: “Your little plan to get back the Clan shares ceded to trust when my mother vanished—I got in the way, didn’t I? But not to worry. An insecure apartment, a fortune-seeking commoner turned rapist, and an unlocked door on the roof would see to that. Wouldn’t it?” If not a couple of goons with automatic weapons, she added mentally. Just by way of insurance.

The duchess gasped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Quite possibly you don’t,” Miriam agreed. She jabbed a finger: “He does, don’t you, you vile little turd?”

Baron Oliver had turned beet-red with her first accusation. Now he began to shake. “I have never conspired to blemish the virtue of a Clan lady!” he insisted. The duchess glared at him. “And if you allege otherwise—”

“Put up or shut up, I’d say,” Iris said flatly. “Mors, wouldn’t you say that any accusations along those lines would require an indictment? Before the committee, perhaps?”

“Mmm, possibly.” Mors struck a thoughtful pose, seeming to forget his earlier enthusiasm to be elsewhere. “Were there witnesses? Unimpeachable ones?”

“I don’t think any charges against the baron could be made to stick,” Miriam said slowly, watching him. He watched her right back, unblinking.

“And you will note that I made no allegation of involvement in a conspiracy to commit rape on your part,” she added to Hjorth. Or to send gunmen round to Olga’s rooms. “Although I might change my mind if you supplied the cause.” She smiled.

“You bitch,” he snarled.

“Just remember where I got it from.” She nodded at her grandmother, who, speechless with rage, hung on Hjorth’s arm like an overripe apple, ruddy-faced and swollen with wasps. “We really must get together for a family reunion one of these days,” she added. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot of poison recipes to share with me.”

“I’d stop, if I were you,” Iris observed with clinical interest. “If you push her any further the only reunion you’ll get is over her coffin.”

“You treacherous little minx!…” Hildegarde was shaking with fury.

“So it’s treachery now, is it? Because I had higher standards than you and didn’t want to marry my way to the top of the dung heap?” Iris threw back at her.

“Children,” Miriam sighed. She caught Olga’s eye.

“I didn’t notice you making an effort to find any suitable alternatives!” the duchess snapped. “And it got the Wu and Hjorth factions to stop murdering each other. Would you rather the feuding had continued? We’d both be dead a dozen times over by now!” She was breathing deeply.

“You’ve got no sense of duty,” she said bitterly.