He became fascinated with the painting hanging behind Constance’s left shoulder, a dull landscape of sheep and hills under a sky of puffy white clouds.

“You went to finishing school,” he said. “Young ladies from well-to-do families attend finishing schools.”

“I went to finishing school after I came back. Where do you think I was when I went missing?”

A hint of the vulnerable adolescent showed in Stephen’s eyes, though he was well past twenty years old. “Quinn said you could take care of yourself, and you apparently did.”

Quinn would investigate Rothhaven simply because Althea was marrying into the Rothmere family. Constance could save her brother a bit of time and provide Stephen some worthwhile intelligence.

“I did not take care of myself. I could not. I’d been too long away from the streets and I’d grown too well fed and well kept. My instincts dulled, my looks improved. I found work as a maid at a private madhouse. Rothhaven took care of me.”

The consternation in Stephen’s gaze was as gratifying as it was rare. “He kept you?”

“Do men think only of swiving? He kept me safe. He warned me which staff to avoid, when to stay off the back steps, how to hide my coin. He played the violin when he knew I was faltering. He read to me. Poetry, drama. He was barely sane himself but he kept me sane until Quinn found me.”

“But how did you…?” Stephen’s gaze narrowed. “You were a maid at the private hospital out on the moors. Rothhaven was apparently an inmate of the same establishment where you were a menial. You worked from dawn to midnight, slept in a cold garret on a straw pallet, and nearly starved. Why? I don’t understand why.”

And Stephen must understand every puzzle even if he had to destroy the puzzle to find its secrets. “Will you teach a horse to stand when the rider has a shaking fit in the saddle?”

“Give me a fortnight.”

“Thank you.” She tied her ribbons off-center, pulled on her gloves, and prepared to dine al fresco with a gentleman for the first time.

“Does Quinn know about Rothhaven’s role in your past, Con?”

“He will have guessed. You can confirm his hunches, or not.” She marched over to Stephen, looked him squarely in the eye, and deftly pried his cane from his grasp. He was braced against the wall and in no immediate danger of toppling, but his eyes filled with veiled panic.