“Can the reverend be bought?” Robert asked. “If a sponsor were to step forward offering to generously fund his mission, would he be willing to see reason where his niece is concerned?”

“I don’t know, Your Grace. His vocation is regarded as sincere, and he’s been planning this journey for years. He might well not need a sponsor.”

Constance wasn’t in tears, but Robert could feel the emotions reverberating through her. Tremendous relief that somebody she’d long loved was still hale and whole. He’d felt that same relief when Nathaniel had finally fetched him home to Rothhaven Hall.

Dismay, because the situation was so fraught.

Anger, that Ivy’s adoptive family should be a poor fit for her, at least at present.

“We must not despair,” Robert said, kissing Constance’s fingers. “You have never faltered in your determination to find your daughter, and now your persistence has been rewarded. Drink your tea before it gets cold.”

He issued that order in part to provoke a flash of resistance, but Constance saw through him. “Drink your own tea, Your Grace. Miss Abbott, does Ivy know of her origins?”

“I’m afraid she does.”

If Miss Abbott was afraid, matters were dire. “Please explain.” Robert did not admonish Miss Abbott to drink her tea, lest he suffer injury to his person.

“Ivy has apparently been told that the Wilsons took her in because her parents were not married and her mother was quite young. Mr. Shaw is concerned that those antecedents have resulted in a predisposition to bad judgment and wayward behavior.”

Constance sat up straight. “Must I kidnap her?”

“My love, she might not take kindly to being kidnapped. If all about her are consumed with telling her what to do, how to speak, what to think, how to walk, and when to pray, she might be averse to replacing one jailer with another.” Exceedingly averse.

“But she is my daughter.” Constance rose and crossed to the window. “I can’t lose her to the wilds of Australia now, not when she’s a mere thirty miles from me and miserable. If she wanted to leave England, I could almost learn to live with that, but now? I want to order the grays put to so I can introduce myself to her before sundown.”

“I wouldn’t advise that, my lady,” Miss Abbott said, downing her tea. “Mr. Shaw is reported to be old-fashioned. Today is the Sabbath, and even calling upon him without a proper introduction could set you off on the wrong foot. I’ve heard nothing to suggest his departure is imminent, or that he’s an unreasonable man. You have time to consider today’s developments and confer with your family.”

Not much time, apparently.

“My family would be listening at the keyhole to this discussion,” Constance said, “except that Her Grace of Walden won’t allow it.”