“Why would the majordomo do that for you?” Stephen asked.

“You’re asking if Monmouth is trustworthy, and he is. His loyalty is to the club, and if I had to guess, I’d say that Cranmouth, Philpot, and Weatherby are behind in their dues, rude to the staff, and parsimonious with their vales.”

“Bad form,” Stephen said, accepting his hat and coat from a footman. “Mortal sin, that. Have you ever defended a client accused of mental incompetence, Sir Leviticus?”

“No. Am I soon to have that honor?”

“You are soon to ride out to Rothhaven Hall with me and explore the possibility.”

“So Cranmouth is telling you not to worry?” Lord Stephen asked, patting the gelding’s neck. “Claiming you’ll be home by supper following a pleasant chat with the commission members?”

After a week of riding lessons, Robert was still both amazed and terrified to find himself back in the saddle. The project had been necessary, both to provide an excuse to call at Lynley Vale every day, and to keep Lord Stephen from descending into a grand pout.

“Cranmouth tells me that I should be more concerned over a meeting with my steward than I am over this mere formality.” Robert gathered up the reins as Lord Stephen took two steps back. For a man who professed to care about only his close relatives, his lordship certainly did hover near his riding student.

“If the lawyer tells you not to worry,” Lord Stephen said, “then you should be very worried indeed. Though I have every faith in Sir Leviticus, I am worried, which is no credit to my masculine dignity.”

“Walk on.” Robert nudged Revanche with his calves. The beast obligingly shuffled forward, and the little boy who dwelled deep in memory gave a shout of joy.

“You have the natural seat of a damned cavalry officer,” Lord Stephen said, backing away another two steps. The footing in the arena was sand, which had to be hard going for a man who relied on a cane.

“I am all but trussed into the saddle.” The leather straps went over Robert’s thighs, beneath the flap of his riding jacket. They had taken getting used to, for they prohibited rising from the saddle at the trot. His lordship had fashioned a mechanism that made the straps simple to get into and quick to release, and yet they held Robert snugly on the horse’s back.

His lordship took another few steps back. “Some people trussed into the saddle bounce about like rabbits in a pillowcase. You must have ridden frequently as a child.”

“Every chance I could. To the trot, Revanche.” Another nudge, and the horse lifted into a steady, smooth trot. “I don’t know where you found this fellow, but he’s worth his weight in oats.”

“Found him outside a knacker’s yard, more or less. How is Constance managing?”