“That depends. If Shaw consented to give me guardianship of Ivy, that would simply be a matter of paying the lawyers and waiting for a judge to sign an order.”

“And if he refuses to consent despite clear evidence that Ivy wants to be with me and would flourish in my care?”

“I do not kidnap minor females, Constance, and you cannot either. That is precisely the sort of eccentric behavior that will attract all the wrong notice.”

The horses stretched into a canter, meaning the swaying of the coach grew worse even in this exquisitely engineered vehicle.

“I am compelled to agree with you,” Constance said. “Those who go around kidnapping children are precisely the sort of people society looks upon unfavorably. Let’s get comfortable, shall we?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The benches, Rothhaven.” She lifted the opposite bench to withdraw a pair of blankets. “They fold out to make up a bed, and we will be stuck in this wretched coach for hours.”

“By rights, our families ought not have allowed us to share this coach.”

Constance kissed him. “You are my family now, and I hope Ivy is soon to become family in the meaningful sense. Get up so I can find us some pillows.”

He rose and switched seats while Constance retrieved pillows from under the forward-facing seat. The next few minutes were taken up with creating a bed from the folded-down benches.

“To gain legal authority over Ivy,” Rothhaven said, “would mean bringing a petition in court, and if Shaw objects, proving Shaw unfit.”

“Do you trust Cranmouth to undertake that assignment?”

“Not particularly.” He pulled off his boots and set them aside. “Cranmouth might have alerted Nathaniel to the single apparently charitable donation my father made—year after year. Might have stopped some of my father’s more dubious investments. Cranmouth chose not to. He is a cypher, loyal to Rothmere coin rather than to the Rothmere family. Now that I’ve concluded some real property transactions, I can look to replace him.”

Constance unlaced her boots and set them beside Rothhaven’s. “Quinn is similarly disdainful of toadies, as am I.”

“Lord Stephen designed this arrangement?” Rothhaven asked, when they were stretched out side by side under the blankets.

“Stephen should have been an artificer. He likes solving puzzles. We have food and drink in the panel on your side.”

“Good to know. Why, Lady Constance, how friendly you’ve become.”

She’d snuggled up to Rothhaven’s side, though with both of them fully clothed, snuggling was more a theory than a reality.

“Tell me about the legal process involved in prying Ivy away from Reverend Shaw,” she said. “What does it mean to have him declared unfit as a guardian?”

Rothhaven looped an arm around Constance’s shoulders. “It means scandal, of course.”