“In her youth,” Robert said, “Lady Constance was not a lady. She was the younger sister of a banker intent on making his fortune as quickly and successfully as possible. You know the situation prior to that. I gather that in Constance’s adolescence, a falling-out occurred with her older brother, and Constance decamped for independent employment. She took a post as a maid of all work in the facility where I was kept. We struck up an acquaintance.”

Nathaniel swirled his wine, peering at Robert over the rim of his glass. “How old was she?”

“A very self-possessed and savvy fifteen, or thereabouts.”

“You didn’t—?”

“She was fifteen, Nathaniel. Clearly from decent family. I was young enough to have untoward thoughts, but what did I have to offer her? Madness and obscurity? That makes a fine dowry. Her brother found her after a few months, but in that time, she and I became friends.”

An understatement and the truth.

“And now you want to marry her?”

“I have asked her to marry me, and I await her reply. She knows quite well that at any point, some meddling busybody who comes upon me in a shaking fit will decide I must be returned to the care of other meddling busybodies. Between you and the Wentworth family, I hope a judge can be persuaded to allow me to remain here at the Hall. My estate will nonetheless be managed by guardians, and they will doubtless leave my finances the worse for their efforts. His Grace of Walden will know how to protect the lady’s portion from such plundering.”

Nathaniel cut into his beef, which had to be cold. “Why do this, though? If you want a woman’s company, there are friendly widows who’d put no demands on you. Why complicate your life?”

That a man so clearly besotted would ask that question suggested that Nathaniel still saw his older brother primarily as an invalid.

“Because if I do not marry now, before my competence is brought into question, then I will not ever marry, will I? Lunatics are presumed incapable of knowingly taking nuptial vows.”

“You assume you will be found incompetent. You’re a duke, for God’s sake. Who will think to attack you?”

How quickly Nathaniel had gone from being an over-vigilant protective sibling, anticipating every possible threat, to a man convinced of life’s benevolence. The shift in Nathaniel’s perspective felt to Robert like a minor abandonment and a major relief.

“Anybody with a grudge against our dear father could attack my legal fitness,” Robert said. “Anybody in need of substantial coin. Anybody with a grudge against Althea’s family or against you. I am a duke, but I am also afflicted. I was incarcerated for nearly half my life due to that affliction, and I am not entirely well as we speak. Nor will I ever be. One must face facts, Nathaniel.”