“Eleanora.” The duchess wrapped her in a hug. Her Grace was taller than Ellie, and quite self-possessed, but she also had a bewilderingly maternal quality. “I so look forward to your weekly calls. Starting next Friday, I will send my coach for you. The weather grows too chilly, and you have better things to do with your time than hike across London.”

“I like hiking across London.” When Jack kept his distance. “I spend too much time hunched over figures and account books. Fresh air keeps me sane.”

“Many a mother has said the same thing. I am convinced that Mayfair’s proximity to Hyde Park is more than half its attraction for those who can afford the surrounds. Are we having tea or chocolate today?”

Ellie had never had chocolate until the duchess had served it one frigid afternoon nearly a year ago. “Chocolate would be lovely, Your Grace.”

When the tray arrived, and they were assured of privacy, Her Grace switched to French. Simple phrases that were easily mimed: Would you like more chocolate? Please and thank you. Today is cold, don’t you agree? Wodin is a fine dog. Yes, he is very fine. In return, Ellie explained the financial instruments and transactions that Quinn Wentworth gloried in with the natural affinity of a lamb at spring grass.

When the small talk had been thoroughly reviewed, Ellie tried a question she could not ask anybody else.

“Pourquoi les ducs sont-ils si compliqués?” Her syntax was questionable—Ellie still wasn’t quite sure what syntax was—but the duchess smiled.

“Why are dukes so complicated? Is it the duke who’s complicated, Eleanora, or the dukedom—le duché? My Quinn is not complicated at all. He thrives on hard work, expects honesty and fair dealing from all who do business with him, and he’d die to protect those he loves.”

“Did His Grace of Walden tell you…?”

“That your services are on temporary loan to a peer with a delicate problem. Yes, he’s told me, and believe me, Walden does not like having the bank’s arbiter of accuracy off the premises. Tell me about your complicated duke.”

British dukes numbered less than three dozen, and Her Grace doubtless had a good idea who among them had claimed Ellie’s time.

And her interest. He’d also claimed a brief, maddeningly chaste kiss.

“His Grace’s holdings are spread out all over Britain,” Ellie said, “and even on the Continent. He has more than twice the properties His Grace of Walden owns, and his family sprawls like topsy over the lot of it. He has aunts in dower cottages, widowed cousins living on quiet lanes in Chelsea, other cousins among the employees of the various enterprises he owns or oversees…I knew there were people with such wealth, but I’d never met one.”

Had carefully avoided making their acquaintance, in fact.