Stephen seldom operated out of pity, at least not when he could be caught at it. “Could that be why Stapleton is in such a lather? His son misbehaved and left written evidence that Miss Abbott now possesses?”

“Few people care if titled sons misbehave,” Duncan said. “Stephen and I first encountered Champlain in Paris, where he was quite the bon vivant. According to Champlain, his papa sent him to the Continent precisely to indulge his frivolous inclinations. He and Stephen had a few adventures, about which I did not inquire.”

“Bordellos?”

“The French are more tolerant of certain predilections than we English.”

Duncan was former clergy, and the habit of primness died hard. “You think he and Stephen were lovers?”

“I did not inquire and neither will you, unless Miss Abbott, of all the ironies, has evidence of Stephen’s indiscretion and has earned Stapleton’s wrath as a result.”

Blast and bedamned. No wonder Duncan hadn’t suggested the ladies join them. “You and Stephen traveled on the Continent years ago. Why is Stapleton taking up the matter now? Maybe Stapleton committed the indiscretion or one of his mistresses did.” The old boy hadn’t remarried, which was odd, when the succession rested on the shoulders of one young child.

Duncan took the seat behind Quinn’s desk, and Quinn thought, not for the first time, that the wrong Wentworth had been made the duke. Duncan could inherit the title, if Stephen left no male issue and predeceased him.

Duncan—like all Wentworth menfolk, apparently—did not want the title, but he had the requisite gravitas, and more to the point, he would wield the power of the title for good ends.

“I am loath to suggest it,” Duncan said, “but somebody had better thoroughly interrogate Miss Abbott. Is Stapleton prone to violence?”

“We are all prone to violence under the right circumstances.” Quinn certainly was. “Stapleton dotes on his grandson, he provides well for his daughter-in-law, and he is civil enough when he and I meet. We disagree as reasonable gentlemen often do.”

Duncan took up a quill pen, twiddling the feather between his fingers. “Perhaps Stapleton’s problem is commercial. Most people who advocate working children and the poor to death for the sake of God’s holy plan have commercial interests. Mines, foundries, mills. What do we know of Stapleton’s investments?”

“I’ll put Ned and Jack to researching that question, and by this time tomorrow, we will know who sews Stapleton’s underlinen, whether he pays his bills on time, and the exact hour he last visited his mistress.”

“You will keep Stephen informed?”

Quinn would keep Jane informed. “The question should be, rather, is Stephen keeping us informed, and if not, what secrets is he guarding?”

Duncan looked pained. “He is entitled to his privacy, Quinn. Your motives for sending him touring with me weren’t entirely academic.”