“I apologize for burdening you with this display,” she said. “Lady Althea is soon to wed, and while we are overjoyed for her and for Lord Nathaniel, every change is an adjustment.”

Sir Leviticus held up a plate of tea cakes. “My wife grows weepy from time to time. An occasional sweet seems to calm her humors.”

Good Lord, how much had Stephen told him? Jane took a raspberry tea cake and found that it did taste particularly satisfying.

“I have not met Lord Nathaniel,” Sir Leviticus said, topping up his tea. “I gather few people can claim that honor. Are the nuptials imminent?”

The tea, the sandwich, and the sweet were fortifying. Jane was supposed to be conducting an interrogation, after all. Quinn would expect no less of her, and she expected no less of herself. Why would a lawyer ostensibly in Stephen’s employ come pelting out to Lynley Vale, when Stephen’s interests were not in jeopardy?

“The happy couple has yet to set a date,” she said, “and neither are they having banns called. We will probably come down to breakfast some morning and find ourselves with a new brother-in-law. Wentworths can be impetuous in matters of the heart. Tell me, Sir Leviticus, did you grow up in Yorkshire?”

“I did, Your Grace, but I was sent off to public school to get the accent beaten out of me. Headmaster was not entirely successful. Then it was off to Spain to chase Boney’s minions back to France. Another tea cake?”

“No, thank you. Have you any legal dealings with the Rothmere family, Sir Leviticus?”

He set his teacup down a bit too slowly. “Why would you ask that, Your Grace?”

“Because I can think of no other reason for a well-to-do solicitor to race out from town, full of news about some matter involving Lord Stephen—or involving the family his sister is soon to marry into. I thus conclude that his lordship set you to spying, and your skulking about has borne fruit. If the evil tidings relate to the Rothmere family, I can assure you we are in His Grace of Rothhaven’s confidence regarding the family history and we regard it as just that: history.” She rose, more quickly than she should have. “In the past, of no moment. Do I make myself clear?”

Sir Leviticus was on his feet as well. “Your Grace, may I be blunt?”

“You shall be nothing but.”

“Lord Stephen asked me to do a favor for His Grace of Rothhaven. I thought the request odd, but lawyers are often expected to handle matters requiring discretion. Might we sit?”

He’d taken her elbow, which was fortunate, because the occasional fainting spell was always possible when carrying a Wentworth baby.

“His Grace of Rothhaven’s favor is the motivation for your call?” Jane asked, sinking back into her chair.

“Rothhaven’s request came through Lord Stephen, by letter.”