“Robert recently transferred to me and to my mother enormous sums of his personal money. The estate proceeds remain untouched, for they belong to the title, but he passed much of his private wealth into our keeping, asking only that we ensure his dependents are well cared for at the time of his death.”

“Is he planning to die soon?” Quinn asked.

“Likely not,” Stephen replied. “I suspect he’s planning to be legally emasculated. If the money isn’t in Rothhaven’s possession at the time a guardian is appointed for him, Philpot won’t have the opportunity to steal it. Has Rothhaven signed the marriage settlements yet?”

Quinn nodded. “For both Althea and Constance, and the funds remain in my hands. If anything happens to me, management devolves to you, Stephen, then to Cousin Duncan, and if all else fails, His Grace of Elsmore manages the money.”

“The money is safe,” Nathaniel said, “but what of my brother? A guardian could send him back into the keeping of some private madhouse, and none of us would be permitted to see him.”

“He likely knows that,” Stephen said, “and he’s taking defensive measures, but defensive measures are insufficient to secure victory.” Footsteps sounded in the corridor, so Stephen studied his cards and slapped a bored expression on his face. “Quinn, do you have any sevens?”

The door opened to reveal Jane and Althea, both looking happily intent on intruding on male pastimes.

“Alas no,” Quinn said, mildly. “Rothmere, any threes?”

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

“She goes by Ivy,” Miss Abbott said. “That threw us off the scent. I’d told all my contacts to scan the records for an Artemis Ivy, or Artemis, but her parents thought a pagan name less suited to the offspring of clergy than a common English name.”

“Go on,” Constance said.

To Robert, she sounded calm, but her grip on his hand was desperate. The tea tray sat before her untouched, so Robert poured out for the ladies.

“We knew she would not be a Wentworth,” Miss Abbott said, “despite whatever name you gave her at her christening. James and Etta Wilson took her in, so we searched for Wilsons in every direction.”

“And you found them.” Robert poured three cups of good China black. “This being Yorkshire, and Wilson being an exceedingly common name in these parts, you found Wilsons in every village. How do you take your tea, Miss Abbott?”

Miss Abbott moved through life with an air of unshakable confidence. She did not walk, she marched, a stout cane in her hand, though she appeared to be free of every infirmity. She had tossed a glorified nod in Robert’s direction when most women would have curtsied to an obsequious depth. Constance had asked that he remain present for this interview, and Miss Abbott had drawn her employer aside and held a whispered exchange first.