“Stephen has joined battle with Stapleton,” Duncan said. “We are considering next steps.”

Ned took up the narrative for the benefit of the ladies. “Miss Abbott was accosted by Lord Fleming in the park. He was sent to retrieve her at Stapleton’s behest. He claimed all Stapleton wanted was to speak with Miss Abbott, and she insisted that the discussion take place at Stapleton’s home. Stephen suspects she is reconnoitering enemy territory, and he was in the saddle within ten minutes of learning of her decision.”

“And that,” Matilda murmured, “tells us all we need to know.”

“Thoughts?” Duncan asked, kissing her knuckles.

“We have both a king and queen in play,” Matilda said, “an unusual combination. They will likely divide and conquer, but if Miss Abbott is engaging with Stapleton, who is Stephen’s target? Lord Fleming?”

“Stephen claimed,” Ned replied, “that he went to pay a call on Lady Champlain.”

“We are wasting time,” Quinn muttered. “I don’t trust Stapleton, I don’t trust Fleming. I would like to trust Miss Abbott but we haven’t had time to take her true measure. And as for Stephen…”

Jane patted Quinn’s chest. “We do trust Stephen. He will have considered every permutation of the facts and possibilities, and he will have them all in hand.”

Quinn caught her fingers in his. “And if Stapleton takes Stephen’s cane away?”

Jane and Matilda exchanged a look. Ned had been deciphering such glances for several years now, and could make nothing out of them. Quinn, Duncan, and even Stephen were much easier to read, but the ladies remained a mystery. Ned suspected they remained somewhat mysterious to their devoted swains as well, and that only added to his puzzlement.

“You’d best be on your way,” Jane said. “Ned will go with you as my personal guarantor that no unnecessary bravado imperils anybody I love.”

Duncan bowed to his wife and released her hand. “And should necessary bravado arise?”

“Imperil somebody I do not love,” Jane said. “Lord Stapleton’s politics are disgraceful, but Quinn hasn’t yet allowed me to interfere. Stapleton sends six-year-old children into the mines when his own offspring never worked an honest day in his spoiled life. Now the marquess is troubling Miss Abbott, and that troubles Stephen. We are entitled to make a show of support, lest Miss Abbott think we don’t look after our own.”

In other words, Jane trusted Stephen, but did not trust Stapleton.

“Gentlemen,” Quinn said, “we have our orders. Let’s be off.”

Abigail frowns on violence. Stephen reminded himself of that guiding directive as he stalked from Harmonia’s pretty sitting room down the corridor to the library. A quick inspection revealed that Champlain’s handwritten journals weren’t hiding in plain sight.

“My lord, you cannot run tame about this house,” Harmonia said, tagging after him. “My father-in-law will take a very dim view of your behavior, and I am none too impressed with it myself.”

De Beauharnais had apparently made the prudent decision to bide in Harmonia’s parlor. Alternatively, somewhere in the house a proper portrait of her ladyship was in progress.