Chapter 6

“Watch your words, Celia. He’s someone willing to accept you even knowing your entire situation.”

“My goodness, Father…!”

Celia let out a hollow laugh.

“You’re joking, right? That man…”

The Duke of Norfolk had come to the New World a few years ago. Officially, it was to look for investment opportunities, but it was obvious he was searching for a bride among the young ladies of the New World.

But no one wanted to marry him. It wasn’t just that he was old enough to be their father and fat and bald; it was because he’d been caught in the red-light district dressed as a woman.

“Please tell me this is a joke.”

Celia’s voice trembled. But Scott was resolute.

“It’s not a joke. You’ll marry that man in three months. You’ll become a Duchess.”

“Father!”

“Of course, the Duke of Norfolk is old and his reputation isn’t the best, but with your circumstances, only someone with flaws like his would accept you. This is the best you can hope for.”

This can’t be.

Celia’s mouth dropped open.

“In a month, the Duke of Norfolk will visit Lancaster Mansion. So do your best to win his favor. If you don’t, I’ll throw you out of this house immediately, so keep that in mind.”

Celia clenched her fists tightly. She had no more tears left. She didn’t even feel like pleading that it was too much.

Her father had already decided to sell his daughter off to an old, depraved Duke. The only path left was to reclaim Evans Hotel and become independent as soon as possible.

***

Celia went to Grenville Law Office. Now was not the time to worry about her father’s house arrest or Blake Ryan’s intentions. She had to put out the fire right in front of her.

“My Lady. Is this really the place? I can’t believe there’s a law office in a place like this…”

Betty’s dark eyes rolled anxiously. Even Betty, who was from Fifth Avenue, was scared; Grenville Law Office was that remote.

“Yes. Didn’t Father say it himself? Only someone with flaws would take someone like me.”

Celia opened the iron door and stepped inside. Betty followed, looking as if she might cry.

The shabby office was filled with cigarette smoke. The office boys didn’t even notice new guests, busy with their own work. Soon, a typist with a large hump on his back poked his head out from among them.

“Lady, who are you here to see?”

“I’m here to see Attorney James Grenville.”

“Oh, Mr. Grenville? Go over there.”

The typist pointed to a corner of the office.

At the end of the long-nailed finger sat a man with ashen hair and a bushy beard. With his shirt unbuttoned and a vest full of pilling, he had his long legs stretched out on the desk and was chain-smoking.

“Hello. I came on a recommendation.”

Celia greeted politely. The man glanced at her and asked indifferently,

“A recommendation? From whom?”

“…Just someone I know.”

“What brings you here?”

“I want to take back my ex-husband’s hotel.”

“A hotel, huh. You must have been from a wealthy family. Which hotel?”

“Evans Hotel on 33rd Street.”

At that, James Grenville dropped the cigarette from his mouth. He stared at Celia with wide eyes.

“You’re that woman? The one they call the husband-killer?”

Betty, who had been seething beside her, immediately stepped forward.

“That’s right! Our young lady is Celia Lancaster!”

She shouted in her bold voice.

“How dare you act like that in front of her? Sit your heavy backside down right now, Mr. Lawyer!”

“Good grief…”

Intimidated by Betty’s energy, Grenville awkwardly straightened his posture and asked,

“You want to get the hotel back. So you’re planning to sue the Evans family?”

“Yes, I…”

Celia’s lips trembled as she spoke.

She remembered her meeting with Daniel Wilcox. At first, he’d looked at her with a mix of sympathy and pity, but his eyes had gradually lost their light and grown cold.

Daniel had seemed to want to say: ‘Celia, stop being so naïve. Do you really think you can win? Against the Evans family, who rule New Adams society, and with your reputation as a husband-killer?’

“…So, I want to prove that the will was forged, and get Evans Hotel back.”

When she finally finished, Celia swallowed hard.

Grenville was silent for a long time.

Would she be rejected here, too? Cold sweat ran down Celia’s back as she endured the silence. She was about to speak again when—

“What about the retainer?”

“Pardon?”

“How much are you willing to pay for the retainer?”

He’s actually considering taking the case!

Celia answered quickly.

“Two thousand—no, three thousand dastals. How about that?”

Three thousand dastals was more than the annual salary of a New Adams worker. Even for a rich girl like Celia, it wasn’t an amount she could spend without worry. But if she could get Evans Hotel back, three thousand dastals was nothing. She would pay four, even five thousand if necessary. She’d deliberately named a lower price, thinking she could negotiate.

But Grenville just snorted and lit another cigarette.

“Lady, I’ll have you know I have the highest win rate on Fifth Avenue.”

He exhaled a long stream of smoke and continued.

“Do you know how many inheritance lawsuits happen on Fifth Avenue? And how many wives suffer at the hands of hopeless scoundrels like your in-laws?”

“So… you’ll take my case?”

“Of course. I take any case, as long as I get a proper fee.”

“What do you mean by proper fee? How much do you want?”

“I charge everyone the same. Ten thousand dastals as a retainer, and ten percent of whatever property I recover for the client as a success fee.”

“Ten thousand dastals as a base fee… and ten percent success fee?”

Celia and Betty’s eyes widened. Ten thousand dastals was enough to buy a small house in the New Adams suburbs.

“You crook! You want a whole house just for one lawsuit!”

Betty was about to start shouting, but Grenville cut her off.

“Contact me again when you decide. Ah, the deposit is ten percent of the base fee.”

“So, one thousand dastals…”

“Yes. But I’ll give you a special discount—make it nine hundred. How about it? Nine hundred dastals should be affordable for you, Miss Lancaster, right?”

Grenville stretched his legs back onto the desk, then tapped his cigarette ash into an overflowing tray with a relaxed smile.

“Come back when you’ve made up your mind. I’ll be waiting, Miss Lancaster.”

***

“That man’s a complete thief, isn’t he? Ten thousand dastals! He wants the price of a house just to represent you!”

Betty fumed as they left the office.

“All Fifth Avenue people are like that. My Lady, you mustn’t accept! He’s just bluffing because he thinks you won’t find another lawyer!”

“But it’s true, Betty.”

Celia replied.

“If not for him, I won’t be able to find a lawyer. That means I won’t be able to file a lawsuit, and there’ll be no way to get Evans Hotel back.”

“My Lady…”

“Isn’t it better to be ripped off by a Fifth Avenue lawyer than to be married off to some depraved Old World Duke?”

Just then—

“Are those really your only options?”

Celia stopped short.

Blake Ryan was coming up the stairs.

“Mr. Ryan.”

Celia, flustered, quickly bowed her head in greeting.

“Miss Lancaster.”

Blake removed his gentleman’s hat and greeted her as well.

“So we meet again here.”

Putting his hat back on, Blake spoke.

“Yes, well… thanks to you…”

Celia trailed off.

Of course, she’d come to Grenville Law Office after seeing the business card Blake had given Betty. But how did he know she was looking for a lawyer? And how did he know she’d come here today?

Celia looked at Blake with suspicion. Meeting her gaze, Blake smiled as if he understood exactly what she was thinking.

“I heard at the memorial that the will had been forged. So I thought you might need a lawyer.”

With a relaxed smile, he continued,

“I’m here today for my younger sister. But what a remarkable coincidence, running into you like this.”

Can he read my mind?

Celia, flustered, pressed her lips together and barely managed to keep her expression neutral. Then a gentle voice came to her.

“So, did you meet with Mr. Grenville?”