Page 386 of Filthy Elites

“He decided he didn’t want any part of the family anymore,” Ezra said. “Took the funds he could get his hands on and vanished, about a year after you got married.” He paused. “I forgot you didn’t know. You have a lot to catch up on.”

I’d noticed Roland’s absence at Dad’s funeral, but I’d been too distracted to make a thing out of it—and had known better than to pry about Noble business while Clyde was hovering over me. It’d never occurred to me something this extreme had happened.

Ezra’s tone told me that he didn’t have anything else to say on the specific subject of his elder son. Suddenly the signs of aging made even more sense. How hard had it hit him to lose the son he’d put so much energy into shaping in his image?

A year after my marriage. Roland would have been eighteen. He’d seen the life ahead of him… and run.

I could have done the same, couldn’t I? I’d been facing a hell of a lot worse fate than he had. To a lot of people, he’d thrown away an honor. I strained my mind for any memory that might have clued me in to the fact that he’d been fracturing under the pressure, but he’d gotten pretty distant from me in the last few years before Clyde. I’d assumed he was just focused on finding his place in the business. It appeared he’d actually been focused on finding his wayoutof it.

Obviously Ezra and Dad hadn’t been able to track him down. I’d assumed there wasn’t any point in me running, that it’d only make things worse. But then, I’d only had a few days to prepare between finding out about my marriage and being escorted into the church. I’d had a lot less access to our holdings than Roland would have had.

And maybe some part of me had believed that it’d have been beneath me as a Noble to run away, no matter what I was facing. Dad had managed to drill that much pride into me, whether it was to my benefit or not.

The engine purred as Ezra pulled onto the road and headed toward the highway. He glanced over at me. “You’ll be under my authority now. I’ll have plenty of work for you, but beyond that, your time will be yours. Nothing like Hoffman is ever going to happen again.”

He meant the statement to be reassuring, but I had the impression of a vise tightening around me. I couldn’t help noticing that he hadn’t asked how I was or whether I was okay. What I mightwantto do with my life from here. He simply assumed he knew best.

He’d never been exactly warm. Dad hadn’t let him be. And now, with Roland gone and the greater responsibilities of leadership resting on Ezra’s shoulders, he’d hardened even more.

WasI free, or was I simply moving from one cage to another?

TWO

Anthea

THREE MONTHS LATER

Sunlight washed over me,the August heat baking me into the lounge chair on the deck outside the bedroom I’d claimed as my own. I felt completely, bonelessly relaxed for about five minutes—and then one of the Noble underlings came around the house and stopped on the lawn at the edge of the deck.

“Ms. Noble,” he said. “Ezra wants to speak to you in his office.”

I studied the guy, who couldn’t have been much older than me, through slitted eyes. A prickle of irritation ran through me that my brother was summoning me via minion instead of making the short walk down to my room himself, but he had appearances to keep up around the house. Familial fondness didn’t seem to factor into that.

Nodding to the lackey, I stretched my legs, and smoothed the skirt of my dress as I stood up. It was part of the new wardrobe I’d been collecting for myself, simple styles that covered much more skin than I’d been allowed to under Clyde’s rule, a retro style that appealed to the part of me that enjoyed a little glamor.

I didn’t look like any of the other women who hung around the Noble mansion, and that was entirely by design. I expected all the men here to remember that I was as far from being a groupie as they were.

As I went to the sliding door to make my way into the house through my bedroom, my irritation at the summons gave way to a twist of apprehension in my gut.

Since returning to the Noble mansion, I’d gotten away with doing not much other than lounging and poring over all the reference materials and scientific reports to my heart’s content. There was something to be said for being able to pursue my interest in murderous strategies freely. I’d put my knowledge to use a couple of times, once in offering my opinion on evidence Ezra’s men had turned up at a scene of a skirmish and once suggesting possible methods for dealing with a weapons runner who’d become a thorn in my brother’s side, but both instances had been brief.

Otherwise, Ezra had given me a long stretch of leisure in which to recover from my truncated marriage. I appreciated it. But I’d known all along that it could only be a brief respite.

The Nobles hadn’t gotten where they were in the criminal underworld by letting valuable resources go unused.

On my way up the staircase, I crossed paths with Wylder, my younger nephew. He shot me a typical cocky grin with a tip of his head that was more teasing than deferential. “Hey, Auntie Anthea.”

I resisted the urge to catch him and give his auburn hair a good rumpling the way I might have before I’d been shipped off to Clyde, when he’d really been just a kid. He was seventeen now, and he was the new heir apparent. He might still exude bravado, especially when he had his little crew of friends around him, but I’d noticed the extra weight on his shoulders right away.

His father wouldn’t be going easy on him. Ezra’s frustration over Roland’s betrayal and disappearance was echoing all through this family. I couldn’t exactly tell my brother to lighten up on his younger son—that was as likely to make things worse as better—but hopefully I could provide a moderating influence with similar subtlety to my methods of murder.

Ezra had taken over Dad’s former office, of course. I’d already met him there several times before. Stepping inside was somehow both reassuring and unnerving.

It was a relief not to see our father sitting behind that broad desk. On the other hand, Ezra had kept so many of the furnishings the same that it was hard not to slip back through my memories to such lovely moments as the one when Dad had informed me of my impending marriage.

My brother was poised behind the desk in Dad’s usual position, but at least the gaze he leveled at me wasn’t as chilly as what the former man would have aimed at me.

“Thank you for coming right away, Anthea,” he said. Dad would definitely never have offered gratitude for what he’d felt were his basic dues.

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