Stephen didn’t bother picking up his cards. “Are you implying that Constance has a bad effect on your brother’s health?”

“Stephen,” Quinn said, a note of quiet warning in his voice.

“No,” Nathaniel replied. “But change can affect Robert adversely, and he’s dealing with a lot of change lately. If I go through with my nuptials and remove to my own property, he’ll have yet more change to deal with, and if he marries Lady Constance…”

“When he marries her,” Quinn said, “she will aid him to adjust. Stephen, pick up your cards.”

Stephen obliged, because Quinn was right: If Jane peeked in on them, they must appear to be passing a genial hour banished from the ladies’ company.

“About Neville Philpot,” Stephen said. “He bears watching. He and Lady Phoebe were not exactly aghast to see a peer of the realm shaking and twitching in the church aisle.”

“Few people have seen an epileptic seizure,” Nathaniel said. “One doesn’t want to gawk, but it’s hard to look away.”

“They were gawking,” Stephen said, “and, having been gawked at any number of times myself, I know the difference between compassionate gawking, curious gawking, and malicious gawking.”

Quinn paused, his drink halfway to his mouth. “Theirs was malicious?”

“Delightedly so,” Stephen said, “and I would put that down to small-minded evil, except that my man of business met me in York the other day to discuss some changes at my estate. He knows Philpot and had little good to say about him.”

Nathaniel tipped his chair back onto two legs. “Philpot is successful.”

“Philpot’s family had money,” Stephen said, “hence the union between Lady Phoebe and a mere solicitor. The wealthiest uncle on Philpot’s side grew dotty, and dear Neville stepped in to have his uncle declared incompetent. Neville was appointed guardian of the old boy’s means, and the family was all for that. By the time the uncle’s will was probated, the means had largely disappeared. Citizen Philpot has made something of a cottage industry off of guardianships. An auntie here, a former business associate there.”

“What has that to do with us?” Nathaniel asked.

Quinn’s scowl said he grasped the connections, as Stephen had known he would.

“Rothhaven ended up convulsing on the walkway in York a fortnight ago,” Quinn said, “and, as you know, Philpot witnessed most of it. Philpot saw today’s display as well. Lady Phoebe carries a grudge against any who challenge her dominion over local society. You and Althea have done that, and now Rothhaven has found a duchess.”

No announcement had been made, but anybody with eyes could see Constance and Rothhaven were besotted.

Nathaniel raised his glass, then set it down without drinking. “This explains a mystery that was costing me significant sleep.”

“Say on,” Quinn said. “The ladies won’t leave us unsupervised indefinitely.”