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Quinn nodded. “Also, very odd that the step stool was left behind. Are they very short sorts of criminals? Lord Luddington’s butler claims that stool does not belong to his household.”

“And why did they come that way in the first place?” Roland asked. “They must have entered the square by road somewhere. Why go down the wrong mews and then climb over a wall?”

Quinn snorted. “Perhaps they are both short and stupid.”

“I hope they are not stupid enough to return.”

They fell silent for some minutes. Then Quinn said, “Very sorry about the weather not cooperating this morning, by the by. Hopefully, your dog walking venture will be back on for the morrow. Are you inching ever closer to a proposal?”

“I am. I had thought possibly this morning, if I could find the right moment.”

“So I gather all your doubts are at an end?”

“No, they are not. I am determined that she must know the truth. I am not the reserved marquess she has come to know. She deserves to know the truth, and then she came make a decision based on the facts.”

Quinn sighed. “The facts are you are an upstanding gentleman with a care for your fellow man. And fellow creatures. I do not see how she can be opposed to it.”

Roland did not answer, as his friend and butler was always downplaying his affliction.

The real facts were, he sometimes rode out to a lonely green at dawn to shout out his feelings and he could be taken down in an instant over the sight of a suffering animal.

That really was the worst of it and there were so many opportunities for disaster on an estate.

A litter of pups and the smallest did not survive.

A horse to be put down. A stalwart and loyal hunting dog of the pack growing too old to keep up and retired, watching longingly as his brothers set off.

All of those things very ridiculously stopped him in his tracks.

Children would likely be a thousand times worse.

Those were the facts. He did not, at this point in his life, expect much improvement in those facts.

The question was, would Lady Serenity find she did not care for those facts?

Did she look for a stern and unfeeling marquess who was not buffeted by suffering?

For if she was, he was the wrong marquess.

If nature would cooperate, he would find out on the morrow, sometime after eleven o’clock while they walked the square’s gardens.

If it were to go against him, he would retreat to the estate.

If that were to be the outcome, he knew well enough that he could not bear to be in view of the street that had once seen Lady Serenity Nicolet glorying in a snowfall.

If that were to be the case, he might never return to the Grosvenor Square house, as it would contain too many painful memories.

And there he went again. Such thoughts as those were far too dramatic for a marquess!

*

Serenity looked toward her father. They’d all risen, but for him, as the bishop was led in. She and her sisters curtsied, as did Mrs. Right, who was looking very suddenly pale. Their aunt, Lady Marchfield, had hurried in behind the bishop and wore a look of supreme satisfaction.

Charlie, looking wide-eyed, said, “The Right Reverend Porteus, Bishop of London, Member of the Privy Council, and…and…”

“Dean of the Chapel Royal,” Lady Marchfield heatedly whispered.

“Dean of the Chapel Royal,” Charlie said, before backing out the door.

“Your Grace,” the bishop said in a sonorous voice, “I thank you for admittance to your house. I would request a word in private on a very serious matter.”

“What? Come to scold us for not attending church, have you? Well, Lady Misery here knows well enough that I only attend my own church in my own neighborhood in the Dales. Having one vicar in my life is quite sufficient!”

The bishop looked positively horrified. “You do not attend church?”

Serenity got the idea that was not why the bishop had come but was rather new information.

“Did I not tell you the state of this household, Bishop,” Lady Marchfield said.

The bishop nodded gravely.

“I am sure she told you quite a lot, Bishop,” the duke said. “She tells everybody quite a lot. Perhaps what she did not mention was that she goes round acting all pious without a sympathetic bone in her body! Not very Christian in my view. What about that?”

The bishop did not seem to know anything about Lady Marchfield’s unsympathetic bones. “Your Grace, if we might have a word privately?”

“Nonsense,” the duke said. “Anything you have to say can be said in hearing of my family and my housekeeper.”

This seemed to pull the bishop up short. Serenity was feeling pulled up short herself. Why had he come? What were they supposed to do? Could they sit down? She did not know—she’d never been visited by a bishop before.

“Very well,” the bishop said. “Lady Marchfield and the curate of the Grosvenor Church have given me a full accounting of what has transpired here with Mr. Cremble. Including the unfortunate, and may I say alarming, involvement of your housekeeper.”

If the bishop had thought those ideas would strike the duke hard, he was to be disappointed. The duke laughed uproariously. “An amusing tale, is it not?”

The bishop pulled himself up straighter. “Amusing? Your Grace, there is every indication that something is spiritually amiss in this house!”

“Oh, is there?” the duke asked. “From my view, I would think a bishop would be a little concerned that a fellow churchman would fall for such ridiculous stories! A meeting with the devil on the moors and now my housekeeper cannot be anywhere near a cross? Preposterous.”

Lady Marchfield stepped forward. “Then how do you explain that this housekeeper of yours fell back at a moment when a cross was nearby though she could not even see it? It was lodged under a table and she could not have even known it was there! Roland, this woman has had you under her thrall for years and I have never understood why. But now, I believe the truth is beginning to show itself!”

The bishop turned to Mrs. Right. “Madame, how do you explain that point, as that really is the crux of the matter. Why did you fall back from a cross you could not see?”

“Because Cook saw him put it there,” Mrs. Right said, raising her eyes defiantly.

“I was instantly informed of it, as my staff are loyal to me. Since your Mr. Cremble decided he was to act as a Spanish Inquisitor, I decided to play along.” The housekeeper took that moment to pull the cross around her neck from under her fichu.

“I am a god-fearing woman, Bishop Porteus. But I am not a butler-fearing woman.”

“You see? Gullible is what that fellow Crumble or Bumble or whatever his name is. They all are, in my experience,” the duke said. “My sister throws them into the house and my housekeeper throws them out. It’s become a family tradition!”

Serenity did her best not to laugh. It really had become a tradition. They all knew well enough that their father could put a stop to it, but he was always too amused to discover how the situation would play out.

The bishop seemed to take in Mrs. Right’s words and the cross around her neck. “Lady Marchfield, perhaps we have been precipitous in a leap to judgment. There is the possibility that Mr. Cremble misinterpreted events.”

“Do not let them fool you,” Lady Marchfield said. “That woman is evil in one way or another, even if we cannot see exactly how.”

“Bishop,” the duke said from his place lounging on the sofa, “my advice is to drop Lady Misery at home and be done with her. Her lord won’t be happy to see her, he never is, but that’s his problem, is it not?”

“Roland!” Lady Marchfield exclaimed.

Serenity was not certain why her aunt looked so shocked. Her father had said the same or something like it a hundred times.

The bishop seemed to think for a moment.

Then he said, “I will take my leave. Though, before I do, I must point out, Your Grace, that attendance at church is not to be at your convenience. Not even a duke can put the Sunday service aside. I highly suggest you begin attending while you are in Town, to protect your immortal soul. As well, I suggest you carefully monitor your household for any suggestion that all is not as it should be in a God-fearing house.”

With that, the bishop bowed and took his leave. Lady Marchfield hurried after him, but not before casting a last glare at her brother.

After the doors shut and Lady Marchfield’s carriage departed the square, Valor said, “What do you think, Papa? Should we go to church to protect our immortal souls?”

“Go if you like, somebody will take you,” the duke said.

“However, I think our quiet reading of the bible for an hour on a Sunday morning and attending service in the Dales is quite sufficient. The bishop and his ilk would like us all to think that God is at every church doorstep taking attendance. Very convenient of them to think it, too, but I do not see it that way.”

Valor seemed well satisfied with that answer, as did they all, Serenity supposed. Perhaps Verity did not look wholly convinced but she was likely only searching her mind for facts on the subject.

Mrs. Right seemed the most pleased, the color had returned to her cheeks. “Well now,” she said, “I reckon I ought to send a tea tray in.”

“Very good notion, Mrs. Right,” the duke said. “One requires sustenance after tangling with a bishop.”

Valor laughed. “You did tangle with him, Papa. Just think, when we go home you can tell the vicar that you gave the bishop a what-for! He’ll be so mad about it.”

The duke laughed. “I suspect I will do that, Val. Nothing more brightens a day at home than confounding our vicar. Especially as that fellow was good enough to send Mr. Cremble our way.”

“Wait until he hears Mrs. Right tricked him into thinking she was friends with the devil,” Winsome said. “He’ll have steam coming from his ears!”

“Speaking of the Dales, do we have any particular plans to return home soon, Your Grace?” Mrs. Right asked.

Serenity turned to stare at their housekeeper. Why would they have plans to go home? They could not go home now! Lord Thorpe was on the verge, well he seemed as if he might be getting close to, it seemed as if something might be said. They could not go home!

“I know you miss the Dales, Mrs. Right, as do I,” the duke said.

“But I feel as if I am getting nearer to unloading another of my daughters and cannot do it from there. No peace for the wicked, I imagine the bishop would say. Of course, what I would say is my dream of an empty house is within reach!”

As Serenity’s sisters roundly denounced their father’s idea of unloading them, Serenity watched Mrs. Right.

She seemed a bit let down to hear they would not go home.

Serenity supposed she’d never taken into account how much their dear housekeeper must miss her home and her friends and neighbors each time they came to Town.

The dear lady had been very stoic about it.

“Let us all hope,” the duke said, “that the weather clears on the morrow and a certain gentleman might take aim and fire in my daughter’s direction at the hour of eleven.”

“Papa!” Serenity said. Though really, she was hoping just the same.