“Have some more.” Neville refilled Cranmouth’s glass yet again and signaled the waiter for another bottle. “I’m not asking you to bring the petition for a competency review, Cranmouth, merely to continue to serve in the capacity you always have. You are the legal conscience of the Rothhaven estate, the loyal servant of the family’s interests. If Rothhaven is declared incompetent, you would simply carry on, though your direction would come from a guardian rather than from some difficult aristocrat in bad health.”

Cranmouth didn’t have to be told that the guardian would be Neville himself. Neville had been appointed guardian in several other cases, and was known to the court to be conscientious in the execution of his duties.

“You will bring the petition?” Cranmouth asked quietly.

“Of course not. I’ll have Weatherby handle that part. He and I have cooperated on similar cases in the past. He brings the petition and asks to have me appointed guardian because I’ve shown myself to serve in that role effectively on other occasions. I also have a family connection to the Rothmeres.”

Cranmouth’s brows drew down. “You do?”

“My lady wife’s sister had a liaison with the old duke. Our niece Sybil was the result, though a handy groom was found for her mama in time to prevent outright scandal. That makes my wife a relation to the Rothmeres of sorts.”

“Not a close relation, Philpot, and not in any sense a court would recognize.”

“Cut line, Cranmouth. My niece is a half sister to His Grace. That’s family connection enough for benighted Yorkshire and you know it. When I am in charge of Rothhaven’s affairs, I will take very good care of His Grace, you may be sure of that. I expect your fees will necessarily increase, because so much more of the estate work will be thrust onto your shoulders.”

Neville was unwilling to be more obvious than that in a discussion with another solicitor.

Cranmouth studied his wine. He peered around the dining room, which was decorated with portraits of venerable judges in their robes and wigs, interspersed with various goddess-looking ladies. Justice and Victory, perhaps. The deities who truly ruled over the lives of solicitors were Hard Work and Whining Clerks.

Though an unhappy wife could make both of those afflictions look paltry by comparison.

Across the room, a waiter showed Sir Leviticus Sparrow to a table. Sir Levi was a conundrum, having married a very significant pot of money, and yet continuing his legal practice. He wasn’t in York proper as often as he had been previous to his nuptials, and that was generally a source of relief in the legal community. Negotiating a contract with Sir Levi was a challenge. He was not merely conscientious, but rather, punctilious to a fault and took the job of zealous advocacy more seriously than most.

He nodded cordially to Neville and Cranmouth and conferred with the waiter.