Page 205 of Dark Night of the Soul

“Not helping.” But he sounded amused. And maybe a little annoyed.

I wondered if he had sudden regret. But then I hooked my arm around his. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be happy to give them reminders if they step out of line.”

Next, we met the perimeter guards and the guards on the outbuildings. At first, they were amused with my prodding questions, then quickly realized who was in charge.

As we walked away, I said, “I want a copy of your list of names.”

“That’s classified,” he said, but he was smiling when he said it.

“I’m sure you can figure out how to give me clearance.” I let my gaze linger long enough to be trouble.

He lifted a brow. “Careful. You keep asking like that and I’m going to start breaking rules.”

“Good.” I patted his arm like I’d won. “Start with the names.”

But then all my humor died when I saw the manor. Two armed men on either side of the front door. Cameras I never asked for.

My steps faltered.

It was the same, but not.

My home, but not.

I stared at it, trying to convince myself this was fine. That this was normal.

“Remember what I told you,” he said quietly. “You want anything changed you tell me. No questions asked.”

Like the stables. He hadn’t even tried to derail me.

I nodded.

“Come on,” he said, taking my hand. “You can interrogate the guards.”

I huffed a laugh. But yes. I was absolutely going to interrogate the guards.

George and Arthur survived my questions with their dignity mostly intact, and then we stepped inside.

I paused in the foyer and looked around. The house itself hadn’t changed. That made it feel like a lie.

Piers was the first person I saw. He stood in the foyer as if he’d known the moment I crossed the gate. As if he’d been waiting for me to appear.

He took my hand in both of his—a surprising gesture from the stoic butler.

“Welcome home, my lady,” he said.

Normally, I would have corrected him. This time, I didn’t. I smiled. “Thanks, Piers.”

“My lady,” Ludwig repeated, testing it like a new weapon. “Should I bow? Kiss the ring? Call you Your Grace and pretend I’ve been trained?”

“Don’t,” Kincade said flatly. “You’ll sprain something.”

Piers stiffened and looked down his nose at him. “She is, yes. She inherited the title from Lord Edward when he passed. Baroness.”

I tried not to groan.