Stapleton could be rude, arrogant, and blockheaded, but this…Miss Abbott was welcome to Lord Stephen, more than welcome.

“Stapleton,” Fleming said softly, setting aside his teacup, “a gentleman does not address a lady thus.”

“Fortunately for all concerned, Harmonia is no lady. Your sister’s tendency to frequent the lowest gaming hells should have disabused you of the notion that a wellborn woman is necessarily a lady. If I tell Harmonia to bed Wentworth, she’ll bed Wentworth.”

No, she would not. Of all men, Stephen Wentworth would not be finding his way back into Harmonia’s bed. He had been an interesting diversion, rather like a tiger in the garden was an interesting diversion. The instant he thought she was pursuing him would be the instant he refused to be lured any closer.

Besides, she’d seen Lord Stephen watching Miss Abbott across a hand of piquet. Of all the inconvenient, outlandish impossibilities, the statuesque inquiry agent had caught Lord Stephen’s fancy.

She was tall enough to partner him well, whereas Harmonia…

“Is Lord Stephen your choice for Nicky’s step-papa?” she asked evenly. “His standing is appropriate, he’s wealthy, and he’s held in high esteem at Horse Guards. His limp is the result of an injury rather than a defect of birth. He’s witty, and he’s good-looking. I could do much worse.”

Stapleton gestured toward the tray. “Pour me another cup, and don’t be impudent.”

“There’s more,” Fleming said.

“What could be worse than that blasted woman attaching herself to a ducal heir?” Stapleton asked. He watched Harmonia pouring out, his lips pursed. “Unless she’s blackmailing him. Wentworth is the sort to have secrets—perhaps he’s a bastard, perhaps his older brother is a bastard. They both have the look of the baseborn knave, and God knows their antecedents were sordid. Miss Abbott makes her living unearthing secrets. Why would she be seen in Wentworth’s company unless she coerced him into the outing?”

“She’s biding at the ducal residence,” Fleming said, “as a guest. That’s not what you need to concern yourself with now.”

Harmonia put the second cup of tea—strong enough to scald the rust off a rapier—on the blotter before Stapleton.

Miss Abbott was biding with the Wentworth family and accompanying Lord Stephen to his first fancy dress ball in ages. Perhaps this was, in fact, a good thing. Perhaps it was cause for rejoicing. Though probably not. Papa-in-Law was wroth, and that was always a very bad thing.

“Fleming,” Stapleton began, “you have airs above your station if you think yourself capable of deciding which among endless pressing obligations I should concern myself with. A marquess, a peer of the realm whose title dates back to—”

“My house was searched,” Fleming said. “I spotted Lord Stephen with Miss Abbott, and within days, my house was searched. Nothing was stolen, but I suggest you check the contents of your safe and the location of any sensitive papers.”

Harmonia pretended to sip her tea, though she could taste nothing. This whole business was growing too complicated. She could only guess what Stapleton was about, and she wanted no part of it.