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She was led inside, down a hidden passage she hadn’t noticed the first—and only—time she had visited this place. Distant voices, the scrape of shifting furniture, and the clink of glassware carried through the tunnel.

Stepping out of the narrow corridor, she found herself in a vast hall.

“Ah, welcome!” Miss Monroe exclaimed excitedly. She quickly murmured something to a brightly painted woman in a white wig. The woman gave Lydia a quick once-over before sauntering off.

“You do have a flair for the dramatic,” Lydia said dryly. “You missed your calling as a theater director.”

Miss Monroe waved a hand. “Come. I don’t have time for pleasantries—I have far too much to do.”

“Why did you bring me here?” Lydia made sure to pepper in as much annoyance into her tone as she could

Miss Monroe glanced over her shoulder, brows pinching. “To speak to you, of course.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, but the gesture was wasted—Miss Monroe had already turned away, barking orders at a group of people who were… hanging wisteria?

Lydia blinked.

The last time she had been here, the main hall had been all shadows and menace. Now the dark, ominous décor had vanished, replaced with rich greens and golds. It was as if she had stepped into some ethereal fairyland.

“Mrs. Lawless, are you coming?”

Lydia tore her gaze from the transformed room and followed.

“Yes, and don’t forget the crate of champagne,” Miss Monroe was saying to someone. “I need more champagne.”

Then, finally, she turned back to Lydia. “Ah, where were we?”

“Well, your thugs unceremoniously kidnapped me from my garden, shoved a burlap sack over my head, and dragged me here. At which point, you ordered me to follow you while you proceeded to decorate this ridiculously cheery room. So, tell me—what the hell is going on?”

Miss Monroe grinned. “This”—she gestured—“is the female wing of Hades’ Hell. Persephone’s Heaven. Its grand opening is on the night of the masquerade. Have you ever found it rather unfair that men get to indulge in gambling and whoring, while women don’t?”

Lydia actually did find it unfair, not that she had any desire to partake in the usual hellish debauchery, but she wasn’t about to agree with Miss Monroe on principle.

“Why am I here?” she asked irritably.

“I make it my duty to check on my investments.” Miss Monroe barely spared her a glance, too busy directing workers. “You do realize you have two days to fulfill your obligation to me, yes? No, no, no, not there! The wine fountain will go there.” She snapped her fingers at the men attempting to place a massive fern on a side table.

“We have a deal. I know what we agreed upon.” Lydia lifted her chin. “And I never fail to deliver on a promise.”

“Well,” Miss Monroe said, inspecting her nails, “it just seems to me that you’ve had more than enough time. I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten. Or perhaps decided to… renege.”

Lydia tossed her head. “Are you calling me a liar? I might be a thief, but I do have honor.”

“I don’t mean to offend,” Miss Monroe said lightly.

“Then you should have sent a note instead of dragging me to the end of the earth.”

Miss Monroe scoffed. “I don’t do notes. The easiest way to betray someone—or blackmail them—is through a paper trail. That’s why I deal with people tête-à-tête.”

“Well, then you could have called on me.”

Another scoff.

“Fine. At the very least, you could have summoned me.”

“That was my summons. Or at least the only way my men know how to summon anyone.”

Lydia let out an exasperated breath. “Is that it? Can I go home now?”