“Slim to none, rather.” Sparing him a glance, she shot him a tiny, wry smile. “England was the only place I could think of where we could be safe. My maternal grandfather was the youngest son of the Earl of Beckforth, who married a Scottish countess. My mother had saved documents of the property she had inherited through my great-grandmother’s title, and I decided to take her maiden name of Lockhart.” She exhaled and reached for another bracing sip of whisky.

“Traveling as Princess Sarani Rao was much too conspicuous, and it’s easier to travel without a companion as a widow. I just didn’t expect to run into you.” Sarani swallowed hard. “But then, once we were away from Indian shores, I thought we might be safe. Obviously, we’re not. Whoever killed my father has followed us and means me harm. Or it’s Talbot, coming to claim his due.”

They stared at each other in silence, her hand rising to her pounding heart as she tried to catch her breath from the confession that had tumbled out.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said after a beat. “Your father was a good man.”

“My father was undermined by those around him, just as you once said. In the last few years, he became nothing but a figurehead.”

Rhystan dipped his head. “All the same, I’m sorry.”

“I can’t imagine what Vikram promised Markham and the regent. He could not have done this without their knowledge or support.” She paused, tears gathering in her eyes. “Money, I suppose. And power.”

“Markham had to have been desperate.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I made it my business to ruin him. He was skimming money for years and profiteering off of unspeakable practices. I destroyed his dealings and revealed his behavior. From my last report, he’d been demoted.”

Sarani let out a breath. Come to think of it, the vice admiral had been looking a lot worse for wear in the last year, but she had just thought it’d been because of local unrest. Despite the loss of the sepoys two years ago, the fallout had been significant.

“Desperate men are dangerous,” she said.

Sarani lifted an anxious gaze to the duke. He was watching her steadily with no sign of distrust or skepticism, and the only emotion she could see was the flexing muscle in his jaw and his white-knuckled grip on the edge of the desk. Was he angry? Did he believe her? Would he turn around and tell her she deserved what she’d sown? Sarani could never tell with this new version of the boy she’d known, but she needed his help, more than ever.

His next words made her jump. “You think your cousin is behind it?”