Jane’s stomach ceased roiling. Stephen had a temper, and as a younger man, he’d not always had self-restraint sufficient to match his passions. He’d fought duels, a notion that gave Jane nightmares, and if anything happened to Stephen, Quinn would not recover.

Jane would not recover. She had no sons, no brothers, not even male cousins, but she had Stephen whether he wanted her loyalty or not.

“He needs a wife,” Jane muttered, and immediately hoped Sir Leviticus was too busy impersonating a plague of locusts to have heard her.

“The men who need wives are often the last to marry. Your tea will grow cold, Your Grace, and you should try the sandwiches. They are quite good.”

Breakfast had been hours ago, and everything Monsieur Henri prepared was scrumptious. Jane chose a butter-and-cheese sandwich, in deference to an expectant mother’s unreliable digestion.

“I worry about Stephen, you know. He applies his considerable mental faculties to denying that the ducal title will become his, though all indications are that is exactly what will happen.”

Sir Leviticus had the blue eyes of a man who hailed from the north, and they were trustworthy blue eyes too.

“Lord Stephen won’t inherit that title anytime soon, Your Grace. You have years to find him a wife, and he has time to accustom himself to the notion of a spouse. He adores his nieces, as I’m sure you know.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” A comforting notion, despite the fact that Stephen was always careful to couch his affection in irascible tones. “The girls adore him too. He taught Hester how to pick locks and he’s showing her how to build clocks.”

“A fine skill for a duke’s daughter to have.”

“He reads to them,” she said more softly, “and he changes all the knights in the stories into warrior maidens, and makes the dragons l-limp.” Oh, drat the sentimentality that came with carrying a child.

“Your Grace,” Sir Leviticus said, holding out a lawn handkerchief. “This is most unfair. I can battle opposing counsel on the most complex cases, recite the common law of contracts from end to end, and bear arms in defense of my country, but a lady’s tears render me powerless.”

Jane dabbed at her eyes, while mentally cursing motherhood, charming solicitors, and complicated family situations. She could not tell this stranger that Constance had gone in search of a daughter soon to be shipped off to the ends of the earth. Could not convey to him that Rothhaven and Constance would allow only Stephen’s assistance on that errand.

Could not tell him that Quinn hadn’t slept for most of the past two nights, and probably wouldn’t sleep until his siblings were back at Lynley Vale, and his prodigal niece under guardianship to a duke or two.