“Because I am a reasonable man, and the less enlightened among us still regard my condition as evidence of demonic possession. I am in a mental fog after a bad seizure, and if my own father had me put away at the onset of my illness, somebody else might try to have me committed again, for my own good, of course.”

Rothhaven stroked the cat’s head, which occasioned purring.

“Not committed,” Quinn said. “I won’t allow that. You and Constance can live out your days in relative obscurity at Rothhaven Hall, and I will manage your property if necessary to keep the courts happy, but you won’t be exiled again.”

Rothhaven withdrew a packet of papers from his coat pocket and set them on Althea’s escritoire.

“Very kind of you, Walden, but if the courts become involved, the judge will appoint the guardian of his choice. With not one but two sisters married into the Rothmere family, your objectivity regarding my circumstances is questionable. The courts like to appear above petty influences like ducal consequence. Your attempts to meddle might actually make my situation worse.”

Quinn rose before the cat could appropriate his lap. “It won’t come to that.”

“It came to exactly that for nearly half my life. I’ll bid you good day.” Rothhaven bowed very correctly. “You need not see me out, and no, I didn’t omit a material term from the settlement agreement in some inane cat-and-mouse game between prospective family members.”

That rebuke—for it was a rebuke—merited a riposte, but Quinn was still coping with the interview’s other revelations.

“One question before you climb into your hearse and return to your mausoleum: Why tell me how to find my sister? You were confined under miserable conditions, she befriended you, and yet you sent her home. Why?”

Rothhaven’s lips quirked. “I had nothing to offer her at the time, so let’s call it a fit of conscience, shall we?” He withdrew, leaving Quinn to the dubious company of the cat.

“Am I allowed to be pleased that you attended services on Sunday?” Constance asked, twining her arm through Rothhaven’s outside the solicitors’ office.

She had waited to raise the topic of Sunday services until after some legal papers had been signed for a youngish Mr. Cranmouth, nephew to the present senior partner in the firm of Cranmouth and Cranmouth. The documents had something to do with selling a patch of ground, and Rothhaven had been determined to see them signed.

Althea and Nathaniel had strolled off, intent on sharing an ice at a shop around the corner. From thence, the plan was to meet at the livery in two hours, giving Constance time to introduce Rothhaven to Miss Abbott.