“He’s proud, and he’s stubborn. His stubbornness makes your determination look like…What are those dogs doing?”

Wodin was trying to hump Hercules, who apparently wasn’t interested in playing that game. “They’re deciding who’s in charge. Finish your thought about Stephen.” Because whatever point Jane was making, Quinn had the sense that it could help him solve the puzzle that was his only brother.

“Stephen lives in constant pain. You do not. Stephen lives with constant humiliation. You do not. Stephen would die to protect you, while you want to put him in a Bath chair so he doesn’t suffer any more public falls. You tell Ned you’re proud of him every chance you get.”

“I am proud of Ned. The damned lad should have been transported by now, but he’s as upright as any Methodist.”

“And Stephen should be dead. He should have given up or consigned himself to the solution Jack Wentworth chose, blaming everybody and everything for his miseries when he was sober enough to make that effort.”

“Stephen is honorable.” Quinn made that admission slowly. Why was it an admission, and a reluctant one?

“How did Jack Wentworth die, Quinn?”

What an odd question. “Bad gin. It was bound to happen. I was working on a fishing boat that summer, gone for two weeks at a time, and Jack apparently went on one bender too many. Why do you ask?”

Jane watched the dogs, who were back to sniffing and frisking about. “You should ask Stephen about that time. Hercules seems like a very sweet dog.”

Some leap of female logic had occurred. Stephen, oddly enough, might have been able to follow it. Quinn could not.

“Stephen bought him from Willow Dorning, purveyor of fine canines. The beast is certainly well trained.”

“But the dog is huge,” Jane said. “Stephen would not have purchased such a pet for Miss Abbott if he intended to spend a significant amount of time with her.”

“He should have bought her the typically irksome lapdog, but Stephen must be original in all regards. Miss Abbott seemed pleased.”

Miss Abbott was another mystery. Quinn had never met a woman so self-possessed and mannish. And what exactly did an inquiry agent do, anyway?

“She was pleased, but she did not understand that Stephen gave her such a dog only because Stephen sees his path and hers diverging.”

Truly, the conversation had become confusing. “It’s a sham engagement, Jane. When Stapleton has been flushed from his covert and the business with the letters sorted out, Miss Abbott will go back to whatever she does, and Stephen will resume his patronage of opera dancers.”

Jane left off watching the dogs. “What do you think Stephen and Miss Abbott are doing right now, Quinn?”

He thought back over the breakfast conversation. “Shopping for gloves? Picking out fans?”

“She has no use for fashionable accessories. He hates crowded walkways and fawning clerks.”