Miss Abbott joined Constance in the parlor two minutes later. She was tall and substantial, and she dressed in severe good taste, usually in gray or some other half-mourning color. She often carried a cane, an affectation many women adopted only when substantially older than Miss Abbott. Most would call her handsome rather than pretty, though she was pretty. Constance had seen that within seconds of meeting her. The skill Miss Abbott used to disguise her feminine appeal had weighed in favor of retaining her.

Heaven knew, the men Constance had hired previous to Miss Abbott hadn’t had expertise sufficient for the task they’d been paid to do.

“Good day, your ladyship,” Miss Abbott said, taking the second wing chair. “I will be direct. I have not found her, but neither have I found her grave.”

“No progress, in other words.” Exactly what Constance had been expecting and dreading to hear. “Will there ever be?”

Miss Abbott looked at her hands. They were pale, not a ring or a bracelet upon them. The lapse in composure was small and telling.

“After five years, my lady, I would be misleading you if I said I expect to find her. I will not stop looking until you tell me to, but these days…Young women immigrate, they move to the cities in search of positions or husbands, they follow the drum when they find those husbands. She could be anywhere in the world by now.”

Constance had embarked on this search nearly ten years ago, the very day after her pin money had become hers and hers alone to spend. When Quinn had acquired a title, the task had become more difficult for requiring utmost discretion. Constance was tempted to give up, to admit defeat, but the object of this search was still young enough that Miss Abbott’s conjectures regarding marriage were premature.

“Keep looking. I expect I will soon become engaged to a man of considerable standing, and my efforts must become even more discreet, but do keep looking. She’s out there, and we will find her.”

Miss Abbott’s gaze was kind. “I would not blame you if you made another choice. Nobody would, particularly if you are about to acquire a husband of considerable standing.”

The scent of considerable scandal hung unacknowledged in the air, but guilt outpaced even that worry. “I would blame myself if she needed me and I failed her. Keep looking.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Someday, Constance would have to explain this situation to Robert, but when years of searching had produced no result, that day was not soon.

“You did what?” Nathaniel came half out of his chair to roar that question.

Robert hid his smile behind a sip of cider. “I do believe that is the first time you have raised your voice to me—truly shouted—since we were boys. I am touched, brother. Please pass the salt.”