He strutted off, prayer book clutched in his pale hand, leaving Ivy to send Constance a miserable look before following in his wake.

“Not an auspicious beginning,” Constance said.

“But a beginning nonetheless,” Rothhaven murmured. “The whole village has remarked your resemblance to the girl.”

“Ivy doesn’t want to leave England.”

“Then let’s hope the reverend is willing to listen to reason.” Rothhaven offered his arm, and Constance took it, ignoring the stares of the curious, and pretending a composure she did not feel.

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

“I am Sir Leviticus Sparrow,” the fellow said, bowing to Jane. “I apologize for intruding on the household without an appointment, but my business with Lord Stephen is pressing.”

“You are in his lordship’s employ?”

Sir Leviticus didn’t gawk, didn’t take surreptitious inventory of the appointments in Lynley Vale’s guest parlor. He was either exceptionally well bred or accustomed to commodious country houses.

“Lord Stephen first retained my services several years ago, Your Grace. I have had the honor of representing his lordship’s interests here in Yorkshire since. His property and my wife’s are within neighboring distance, not that we see much of his lordship in these parts.”

Stephen was, despite all appearances to the contrary, a good judge of people. If he trusted Sir Leviticus, then Jane would at least give the fellow the benefit of the doubt.

“Please have a seat,” she said. “I’ve rung for a tray, and if you rode out from York, you’ll want some sustenance.” The morning was only half gone, meaning Sir Leviticus had left York at dawn on a fast horse to be at Lynley Vale this early in the day.

Jane’s guest made no move to get off his feet. “Perhaps His Grace of Walden can join us?”

“His Grace is away for the morning.” Quinn, grumbling and muttering, had ridden out with Althea and Lord Nathaniel to call on the Lynley Vale tenants. Jane would have joined them on such a pretty day, but she wanted to be home in case any news came regarding the expedition to Fendle Bridge.

Constance might well be meeting her daughter at that very moment.

“Your Grace, while I don’t wish to appear rude, I’m here on a matter of business.”

Sir Leviticus had the look of a former military man. Lance-like posture, lean, tall, dark-haired, and exceedingly serious. He would take orders, but only from an authority he respected.

“Sir Leviticus, whatever has brought you here is apparently both urgent and weighty.” Jane settled into a capacious wing chair. “All the more reason not to discuss your errand on an empty stomach. Please do have a seat.”

He strode to the sofa, whipped out the tails of his riding jacket, and sat. “Perhaps I could leave Lord Stephen a note?”