“Perhaps, perhaps not. Lady Phoebe feels entitled to have children, and she has been thwarted in that regard. I feel entitled to march into Ivy’s life and be her mother. There is no such entitlement.”

“Go on.”

“I am responsible for heeding the flattery of a scoundrel, for allowing him liberties, for trusting him.”

“You were little more than a girl yourself, Constance. Very much at sixes and sevens, and your brother was not as mindful of you as he should have been.”

Rothhaven set aside his empty soup bowl, and buttered two slices of bread. He fashioned a sandwich from the sliced beef and cheddar on the plate at his elbow, and passed Constance half.

“All true, which is why I can forgive myself, but from Ivy’s perspective, Etta Wilson was the woman who loved her and raised her. If Etta Wilson were alive, would I be dreaming of Ivy coming to live with me?”

“Etta Wilson has been gone for some time.”

“But Whitlock Shaw stepped in—a bachelor of modest means—and provided for Ivy. He’s seen her reasonably well educated, and he clearly cares for his niece. His siblings look up to him. I love Ivy, I would cheerfully die to protect her, but I don’t actually know her anywhere near as well as Reverend Shaw does.”

“So what did you tell her?”

“What somebody should have told me when I was meeting an arrogant varlet in the mews, and thinking myself misunderstood and ignored by my family: Ivy should respect that her family has her best interests at heart. She should speak with her uncle honestly from that place of respect. She should realize that her whole life stretches before her, and many girls would envy her the adventure of seeing new lands. I told her that fleeing the safety of her uncle’s home is patently foolish and ungrateful. If she doesn’t like New South Wales, she can return to England in a few years, but for now, she must…I am about to cry.”

Rothhaven was on his feet and around the table in an instant. “Cry, then. You are entitled to that much at least.” He squeezed her shoulders and passed her his handkerchief.

“I want to be a good mother, not a pathetic, empty-hearted, selfish g-grasping harpy. Being a good mother is hard.”

“But you are my dear duchess,” Rothhaven said, returning to his seat, “and you are bound by honor to do the right thing. Unlike many people, you have the courage to act on your convictions. Setting that example for Ivy will stand her in good stead for the rest of her life.”

Constance dabbed at her eyes. “You always know what to say. Thank you.”