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Arthur Vexley chooses everything. The wines. The art. The flowers in the foyer. The political candidates he supports. The enemies he ruins. The women who serve coffee in rooms where men pretend not to ogle them.

“Ms. Hart meets the requirements of Vexley house,” I say. “Those standards are far higher than those of this board.”

Another silence. This one colder.

Whitcomb puts his glasses back on. “Even if that’s true, Mr. Stanley has very particular tastes.”

“I’m aware.”

“And needs.”

“I am also aware.”

Quenton Stanley’s needs aren’t mysterious. They’re the same needs old wealthy men have always had. To feel young. To feel powerful. To have a woman beside him who laughs when he expects laughter and leans close when his hearing fails or his ego requires it.

“Whoever accompanies him,” Bainsworth says, “will need to be thoroughly vetted.”

“Ella Hart has already been vetted.”

“For employment as a maid.”

“For access to Vexley House,” I counter. “Which is considerably more selective than access to this boardroom, judging by the last hour.”

Whitcomb clears more phlegm from his throat. “This isn’t a joke, Nathaniel.”

Using my given name. He’s really pissed off.

“No. It’s not.” I meet his gaze. “A donor whose money you all consider essential requires a female companion. His original companion is unavailable. I suggested one of you provide a daughter, niece, or family friend of suitable refinement.”

No one moves.

Not even a cough this time.

“You refused,” I continue. “Ms. Hart is young, attractive, and capable of following instructions. Unless one of you has a better suggestion, I’d say the matter is settled.”

Another board member—Hargrove, maybe; they all begin to look alike after a while—exhales sharply. “What if she lacks the necessary polish?”

“She will be polished.”

“In a day?”

I smirk. “In an afternoon.”

“That seems ambitious.”

“Ms. Hart doesn’t need to deliver a keynote address, Hargrove.”

“Harding,” he says.

“Apologies.” I resist an eye roll. “Ms. Hart needs to wear a gown, sit beside Quenton Stanley, smile at appropriate intervals, and make him feel important enough to bid irresponsibly during the live auction.”

“And if she says something wrong?” Ellery asks.

“She won’t.”

“You sound very confident.”

“I’m confident in my ability to prepare her.”