Her eyes held cynicism. “Good gentlemen are few and far between, from what I can perceive.” Cynthia sat back, but instead of turning morose, she retained a lively glint in her eyes.

“What have you been up to?” I asked, suspicions rising.

“Not much.” Cynthia clamped down on her spreading smile but couldn’t quite contain it.

“Very well, keep your secrets,” I said, as though I did not care one way or the other.

“Not so much secrets as . . . plans. But nothing I can say at the moment. Thanos tells me you visited him, and Fielding and McAdam nearly came to blows.”

“Nothing so dramatic.” I cut the dough into fourths, folded them, and laid them into pans, telling her what had transpired as I worked.

“Interesting,” Cynthia said when I’d finished. “My sister and I were rivals of a sort. Nothing nearly as volatile as those two, but she was always the darling, while I was the awkward older Shires girl—what was to be done with me? Em made a good marriage while I was the hanger-on. I loved my sister to pieces, but it was frustrating at the same time.”

I remembered the tension between the two, and Cynthia’s restless unhappiness.

“I am not sure how much love exists between Daniel and Mr. Fielding.” I pricked the crusts with a fork. “Certainly, there is no trust.”

“Can’t really blame them. Probably raised to not trust each other. They lived pretty desperately from what I gather.”

“Indeed.” Daniel tended to only briefly touch upon his hard times as a child. I wondered if there had been more between Daniel and Mr. Fielding than boys vying for the attention of Mr. Carter. Or whether Mr. Carter had pitted them against each other to see which would prevail.

Daniel spoke of Mr. Carter as kindhearted, but admitted the man had been a criminal, bringing Daniel and Mr. Fielding to live with him so he could train them to also be criminals. Mr. Fielding had later found a true benefactor in Lord Alois Symington, or so he said, and had he lorded that over Daniel? This Symington hadn’t been bothered to take Daniel in, and I wondered why not. Did Mr. Fielding simply not mention to Symington that he had a brother in need of help?

I changed the subject. “What has become of Miss Townsend? She has not been here to sketch these last two days. Is she finished?”

Cynthia shrugged. “Haven’t seen her. Bobby says she sometimes goes off to paint, and woe betide the person foolish enough to disturb her. Judith travels where she pleases, does what she pleases. How lovely that must be.” She trailed off wistfully.