“I feel as if I have lost every whit of sense and direction I ever had,” Ellie said, folding Elsmore’s handkerchief in careful eighths. “My sums no longer interest me. My work has become boring.” She tucked the handkerchief away and stroked the dog’s head.

He scooted closer, as if he’d climb into her lap on the least provocation.

“Perhaps your work has served its purpose,” the duchess said. “His Grace was able to step back from the bank once the children came along, though until that point, he struggled to keep up with the bank, the estates, his siblings, me.”

“The Duke of Walden struggled?” The only struggle Ellie had seen her employer endure was the struggle not to thump the heads of any who brought waste, inefficiency, or sloth to their work.

“My husband knows exactly how to go on in business,” the duchess said. “Exactly, precisely. His sense of true north is unwavering. He doesn’t lie, cheat, steal, go back on his word, or—to hear him tell it—make exceptions. A bargain is a bargain, his word is his bond, and all that other huffing and puffing. A two-year-old is a very different article from a mortgage agreement.”

“You’re saying His Grace could not distinguish between family and business?”

The dog settled at Ellie’s feet, his chin on the toe of her boot.

“Walden could not distinguish between life and business. He knew great poverty as a child, and no safety whatsoever. For him, safety boiled down to having so much money that nobody could jeopardize the welfare of those he loved.” The duchess took a sip of her tea, looking elegant even in so mundane a gesture. “I do believe my darling puppy has fallen in love.”

I have fallen in love. As true, lamentable, and wonderful as that sentiment was, something in the duchess’s words tickled the edge of Ellie’s mind.

“I haven’t delivered my final notes to Elsmore yet,” she said. “I have most of my report written, and it’s all very tidy, but I read over it, and feel I’m missing something.” Ellie was missing him, of course, but she was also failing to see a pattern that should be obvious. An important pattern that hovered just beyond her awareness.

“Elsmore’s sister, Lady Rachel, appears to have attached the affections of a suitor,” the duchess said. “Lord Jeremy Bledsoe. Excellent lineage, sweet young man. Elsmore will soon have more family, and he’s already awash in relatives.”

“He puts the male cousins without other prospects to work at the bank,” Ellie said. “I know the head of the family is expected to use his influence for the benefit of his relations, but…”

The dog sat up.

“But?” the duchess echoed, a cinnamon biscuit halfway to her mouth.