Stephen had reason to know the friendliness between the earl and countess had been genuine. They hadn’t been a love match, but they’d reconciled themselves to their parents’ machinations with good grace, good humor, and the occasional shared good time.

All very civilized.

Miss Abbott looked like she needed to pace again, and how Stephen envied her that habit.

“How do people live like that?” she asked. “How do they cavort from bed to bed, behaving—as you say—like beasts in rut? I have seen too much evidence of this nonsense to doubt your recitation, and such goings-on are not limited to the high and mighty. Nonetheless, I am unable to reconcile myself to the notion that something so precious and intimate can be undertaken as casually as sharing a glass of punch.”

Beneath the predictable distaste of a gently reared lady lay a hint of true bewilderment at marital infidelity. Perhaps that was the Quaker upbringing peeking through the inquiry agent’s pragmatism?

“Miss Abbott, the earl and his lady were very likely betrothed while still in leading strings. Champlain was heir to an ancient title and a vast fortune. He was not in the habit of denying himself.”

“You knew him?”

Stephen set his cane aside, though still within reach. “We were acquainted. He was no worse than many of his ilk, and that he and the countess were not possessive of each other was hardly unusual among the peerage. Lord and Lady Champlain considered themselves forward-thinking.”

Miss Abbott rose and struck off across the carpet, and as much as Stephen liked watching her move, he wasn’t as comfortable with her poking about his private domain.

“This is not a variety of forward-thinking of which I can approve.” She leaned over his worktable. “What are these?”

“Plans for a firing mechanism that will be less susceptible to heat and humidity.”

She picked up a diagram and held it about a foot from her nose. “You design guns?”

Did she but know it, she’d brought up an abyss into which Stephen could fall for days on end. “I design them, manufacture them, distribute them, and sell them. Britain cannot seem to enlarge its empire without doing so at gunpoint.”

“Hence the impropriety of that enlargement.” She put down the schematic and stalked around the table, bootheels rapping even through the thickness of the carpet. “I disapprove of the munitions trade.”

Stephen pushed to his feet, though his knee screamed in protest. “I disapprove of people who raise perfectly healthy children and forbid them to dance. We can debate that topic later, when we’ve figured out why Stapleton would need those letters so desperately, though I’m fairly certain I know.”

Finely arched brows drew down. “You do?”

“One of Lady Champlain’s lovers was apparently of a literary bent. Some fool mentioned her ladyship’s indiscretion to Stapleton, and now, having no wife to talk sense to him, the marquess is darting about like a March hare. He is determined to retrieve the evidence of his daughter-in-law’s peccadillo, even to the point of kidnapping you. We will need a list of the gentlemen who have employed you since Lady Champlain spoke her vows.”