“That was my farewell kiss,” she said, patting his chest once. “Mr. Butterfield’s impersonator was my cousin. The scheme he ran was one my family has perfected through long practice. My own cousin stole from your bank, Elsmore, and if that doesn’t render me ineligible to be your duchess, somebody should appoint a guardian to see to your affairs.”

The words were simple enough: Mr. Butterfield…my cousin. Rex grasped their import with the part of his mind that could plan crop rotations for his Surrey property while he endured a minuet in a Mayfair ballroom.

“Did you know your cousin was planning to steal from my bank?”

Eleanora backed up a step, her bum hitting the edge of the reading chair. “I should have known, but I’ve tried to distance myself from that branch of the family. The Old Man is a long game, taking weeks or months to do well. Mick had first to earn Mr. Butterfield’s confidence and learn his accounting habits. Then he had to wait for inclement weather to render the ruse convincing. We are crooks, Your Grace, but we have learned to be competent crooks.”

“You did not know of this plan?”

“I did not, not specifically.”

“Where is Mick now?” Rex was asking questions because he ought to, because his obligations to his bank required it of him.

“Out of the country, possibly in Scotland, now that I think on it. I was told the Low Countries, but that was likely to throw me off the scent.”

Rex advanced until he and Eleanora were toe to toe. “Who else knows of your connection to Butterfield?”

“Some of my family members, but as I said, I keep my distance from them and they keep their distance from me. They would never approach Wentworth and Penrose, for example, because they know I work there.”

“I don’t care that”—Rex snapped his fingers—“for your cousin’s schemes, Eleanora. He’s banished himself, and very few at the bank even know of the problem. What is the real reason you are fleeing to France?”

She had a reason, Rex was as certain of that as he was that two plus two equaled four.

“Take me to bed,” Eleanora said. “Time enough to discuss looming scandal later, but right now, all I know is that I want you to take me to bed.”

She was distracting him, luring him away from answers she did not want to give, answers that were somehow worse than a grandfather sunk in ruin and a cousin who’d stolen from Rex’s bank in broad daylight.

“You will tell me, Eleanora. If you truly wish to leave the country, I won’t stop you, but at least do me the courtesy of explaining why being my duchess is such an awful prospect.”