“From what we’ve been told of his behavior. From my impression of the valet he hired, and from the fact that he knew nothing about horses. How many gentlemen do you know who have not grown up with horses as a part of their lives?”

“You’re talking about the word ‘gentlemen’ as it applies to the English and Irish,” Zou Zou said. “It may be different in America.”

“And he might have started life quite humbly,” I said. “He might have been a bank clerk or something until he inherited a fortune as the last surviving relative of a rich family. Remember when you were sent to Australia to locate the heir to the Duke of Eynsford and he turned out to be a boy from the Outback?”

“I do remember,” he agreed. “I suppose that’s perfectly plausible. But if you inherit money, why shut yourself away in Ireland? Why not enjoy it in America? With the depression still lingering on over there I’d imagine one could snap up some good pieces of property for a song.”

“He was a shy and retiring sort of chap and he’d always had a dream of living as his Irish ancestors had done?” I suggested.

“Delusions of grandeur,” the princess chimed in. “Pictured himself as an aristocrat.”

“In which case why not act the part?” I countered. “Why not show yourself as the benevolent new landowner, not shut yourself away.”

“I find it all most perplexing,” Darcy said. “I’m dying to hear what the American embassy has to say. Someone must know something about him.”

We were approaching the outskirts of Dublin, streets of humble houses and factories such as one finds on the outskirts of any big town.

“Where is the American embassy?” I asked.

“In Phoenix Park,” Darcy said. “Lovely old house. Have you never been in Phoenix Park?”

“I’ve never been to Dublin before,” I answered.

“Have you not? Then your education is sadly lacking, my lady,” Darcy said. “Unfortunately this is not the time for a guided tour, but you’ll see a bit of the park as we drive through.”