Page 86 of My One and Only Duke

“If you have too many good days, Duncan will be out of a job, is that it?”

Stephen peeled away from her to rest his back against the wall. “Do you do that to Quinn? Fire off insights without warning?”

“Yes, and he returns the favor. Shall I fetch your chair?”

Stephen’s stamina was improving, slowly, but he paid for his excesses, and he needed a moment to gather his wits.

“Please.”

Jane returned with the Phaeton of the Doomed and held it steady as Stephen settled onto the cushion.

“You’re feeling better?” he asked.

“One often does, physically. My dignity is another matter.”

Stephen had considered his regard for Jane, and decided that he liked her but he wasn’t at risk of falling in love with her. She was too much Quinn’s, too clearly devoted to her husband. Then too, she was expecting a child. A daunting prospect.

“Was that your father I saw coming up the walk?”

She straightened a painting hanging above the deal table—drooping roses and green apples. “Yes. He’s probably still in the family parlor appraising the portable goods.”

“Quinn will march him off to the magistrate if he steals.”

Rather than upset the lady, this seemed to interest her. “Quinn would be that unforgiving?”

“That scrupulous. Quinn does not bend rules. He has a little speech that he gives all the courtesy lords and dowagers who seek to borrow money from him. He warns them not to go in debt to him unless they understand that he will see them jailed and bankrupt should they default. They smirk at him, but he’s sent the sponging houses a lot of custom.”

“No exceptions? That seems harsh.”

Stephen agreed, but then, the Quality squandered fortunes on gaming and vice. “Quinn says he gives his word, they give theirs. Exceptions and special cases only muddy the waters. It’s all in writing, so they know exactly the terms of the loan.”

Jane left off fussing with the furnishings. “Quinn is nothing if not logical. If you’d see my father out, I’d appreciate it. If Duncan were here, I’d ask him.”

“Are you well, Jane?” Stephen was no judge of the fairer sex, but Jane’s indomitable air was like Althea’s temper and Constance’s discontent: always there, just below the surface. Jane was trying to get rid of him—all the siblings did—and yet, she seemed off to him, daunted.

“I’m well, considering.”

The corridor was empty, and another opportunity to converse with Jane privately was unlikely. “I’ve learned something you should know.”

“I should know many things.” Her smile was wan. “Such as why you hide your strength from your family.”

“I’m honestly not that strong. I do my exercises, and…maybe someday. You mentioned Duncan.”

“He’s away to Berkshire to look in on one of the ducal estates, or so Quinn told me.”

Meaning Duncan had lied to Quinn—had gone out of his way to lie to Quinn. “He’s not off to Berkshire, Jane. He’d have taken the coach for a journey of that length. He’s on horseback, and he took only a pair of full saddlebags.”

“Perhaps he’ll stay with friends along the way.”

Jane was only half listening, one hand on the door latch, the other on her belly. How many more months did this go on, and where the hell was Quinn?

“Duncan doesn’t have friends, Jane. He has books. He has ideas.” Stephen doubted Duncan even had a mistress.

Jane pushed the door open and leaned on the jamb. “You must excuse me, Stephen. I’m truly not feeling well. You’ll tell Quinn what you’ve told me?”

Stephen had been hoping Jane would pass this development on to Quinn. Tidier that way. “I’ll tell him.”

“My thanks, and do look in on the reverend. I left him rather abruptly.” She withdrew and softly closed the door.