"Not you again!"
Humphrey Butliconi began backing out as soon as he entered the room.
It was the place he typically met with clients—nothing more than a stone box, really—and I was seated behind the bare desk in the middle of the room with my legs kicked up and arms crossed.
"I wouldn't be in such a hurry to leave if I were you," I remarked, lifting a hand to lazily examine my nails. "Surely you wouldn't want to meet the same fate as Viscount Winthrop."
The man shuddered at the mention of the name. It seemed he was painfully familiar with the details of the Viscount's demise. He would have had to follow that story closely, after all, to make sure his secret son was not exposed along with everything else.
For such a deep and important secret to him, he certainly took big risks with it.
But that ended up working out quite well for me.
"Scandal Maker," slowly, Humphrey raised an accusing finger. "You're that Scandal Maker."
