Sean’s rich-and-ready swagger made Sir Kensington’s expression darken a fraction. “You reek of money.”

“Better than reeking of sour, rotting pretension.”

Grandpa’s specialty was never letting a line go unanswered—every word came back as a jab.

Sir Kensington didn’t reply. He turned his gaze to the bookshelf.

I caught where he was looking. After getting Auntie Sutton’s permission, I pulled three books from the shelf and ...