“Why would…?” Jane stared hard at the tulips gracing the tea tray. She could smell them, and in her present condition, the fragrance was too sweet, even a little rotten.

“His Grace would only ask a favor of another solicitor if he needed assistance his own attorney could not provide,” she said slowly, wishing Quinn hadn’t jaunted off on social calls. “Do I have that right?”

All charm fled Sir Leviticus’s expression, leaving only astonishment. “I cannot confirm the particulars of a matter entrusted to me in confidence.”

“Then allow me to conjecture: You’ve seen something, heard rumors, or otherwise come across alarming information of the sort the duke’s lawyers would not hear, and time is of the essence.”

Sir Leviticus remained standing, his posture militarily straight. “Your Grace, while I would never want to offend—”

Jane waved him to silence. “Lord Nathaniel Rothmere and Lady Althea Wentworth are to wed. Rothhaven might have enemies, but he also has allies, will he, nill he. You either tell me what you know, or I will have the footmen keep you here, stuffing you with sandwiches, until Walden, Lady Althea, and Lord Nathaniel return from their outing.”

A tense silence ticked by, during which Jane’s belly chose to inform her that she was hungry. She’d just eaten, and she was abruptly famished.

“My wife would get on well with you,” Sir Leviticus said. “I don’t suppose you like rabbits?”

“To eat? Actually, no. I don’t care for most game.”

“Rabbits as pets,” he said, gaze on a drawing Constance had done of Septimus, the house cat. “I refuse to violate a confidence, Your Grace, but I can tell you that I and my clerks move in less rarified legal circles than does Rothhaven’s man of business, and I can discuss with you the law of guardianship as it relates to mental incompetence.”

Jane sent out a silent plea for Quinn to gallop home, though he’d be gone for hours yet.

“You are telling me—or rather, not telling me—that you have evidence of somebody scheming against Rothhaven, and he’s to be brought before a commission of lunacy examiners.” Quinn had explained that process to her, one his banks occasionally became entangled in when a customer grew dotty. “Worse yet, you are telling me this plot is already afoot, and Rothhaven isn’t even on hand to begin preparing his defense.”

Constance would be devastated, Quinn would be furious, and Stephen would be plotting violent felonies. As for Althea and Nathaniel, Jane could not guess how they would react, and Rothhaven…If anything ought to cause an epileptic duke to succumb to seizures, a scandalous lawsuit should suffice.

“I can see why Lord Stephen holds you in such esteem, Your Grace,” Sir Leviticus said, “but I cannot confirm your conjectures.”