“Robert,” Althea said, making the two syllables distinct. “And you have agreed to paint Robert’s portrait. What are you truly about, Con? Nathaniel says Robert could be declared mentally unfit at some point, and that will be painful enough without you becoming entangled in the situation.”

Why must the coach move at such a sedate crawl? “You are being protective. I am growing impatient with my siblings’ protectiveness. I would also appreciate it if you could close your balcony door when you are entertaining callers in the middle of the night.”

That had the desired effect of shutting Althea’s mouth, at least temporarily. When the coach drew to a halt in the yard of the George and Charlotte, Althea paused before getting out.

“Nathaniel and I mostly talk, you know. He hasn’t had anybody to talk to for years.”

“He’s had his brother.”

“And I have had you, but it’s not the same, Con. I can tell Nathaniel anything. He tells me anything. We are in some way more friends than lovers, but that’s not entirely accurate either. Perhaps we are truly lovers, rather than merely trysting partners. I don’t know how to describe what has bloomed between Nathaniel and me, but I hope someday the same wonderful intimacy befalls you. I feel as if I have found a missing part of my heart.”

The words were painful, so very painful, to hear. “Then I am happy for you, Thea. I will meet you here at noon.”

They parted at the coach, Althea sailing off in the direction of her favorite modiste, two footmen in tow. Constance went the other way, back toward the smaller shops and older houses. When she came to a nearly shabby two-story stone building on a slightly tired side street, she pushed her way inside without knocking.

The sign on the door said simply INQUIRY AGENT, BY APPOINTMENT ONLY, though Constance had long since passed any need to make an appointment here.

“My lady.” The trim older woman at the desk rose. “Good day.”

“Miss Harper, good day. Is Miss Abbott in?”

Miss Harper was a master at hiding her emotions, but Constance always saw pity in those calm gray eyes.

“I have standing instructions that for you, my lady, Miss Abbott is always in. Please have a seat in the parlor and give me a moment. Shall I have a tray brought up?”

The ladies did a good job of creating a sense of normalcy for clients dealing with desperate situations, as if a tea tray could turn heartbreaking business into a social call upon a trusted old friend.

“No tray, thank you.”