Nora’s heart yanked hard and locked, clenching to a full stop in her chest.
“Betrothal ball?” she echoed, her voice thin. “Is that set to take place then?”
Bea stilled where she crouched at Nora’s feet as well. Her gaze lifted to fix on Nora’s face, her eyes wide with what could only be characterized as keen interest.
If Nora had any doubt that Bea knew there was something between Nora and Constantine, something beyond simple friendliness, it was put to rest.
Bea knew. The woman was far too intuitive.
Bea perhaps knew what even she could scarcely admit to herself—that Nora held a tendre for Constantine.
She could not look at him without feeling butterflies in her stomach. Without her heart squeezing. Without her pulse racing and her mouth watering. Each time she closed her eyes she saw that beautiful body of his spread out before her on a bed and she physically ached.
Impossible. She could not have him. She gave herself a swift mental shake and schooled her features into impassivity. Bea could not know all of those things. Her maid did not know anything for a fact. She could have her suspicions, but that was all they were.
“Oh, it’s not official yet,” the duchess said. “But His Grace has spoken with Constantine. It is coming. There will be an announcement soon.”
She nodded. Good. Hopefully it would happen very soon. The sooner the better. Truly.
The better for everyone.
Chapter 24
She looked beautiful.
Constantine could not take his gaze off Nora over the dining table. She glowed like a jewel. Like flame. He could blame it on the gown. It was stunning and revealed Nora’s most tempting shoulders and décolletage—her peaches and cream skin that was more peaches than cream. She was so sweet he ached for a taste.
Except the gown would not account for the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed at something Vernon bloody Prentiss said to her. Vernon Prentiss. She could do so much better than that sod.
Constantine’s fingers clenched around the stem of his wineglass as she tossed back her head, arching that lovely throat. Candlelight caught in the lovely arrangement of her hair, gilding it like fire.
Prentiss could not be funny. Impossible. He had never been amsuing as a lad. He’d been a fussy sort, never one to play games or run about outside with the rest of the children. He also had a penchant for snitching on all their activities, right or wrong, to the headmaster. It had never been originated from any moral sense of justice either. He was merely about currying favor with those in authority.
Constantine did not trust Prentiss then and he did not trust him now. Especially not with the way he was looking at Nora.
The man drank deeply from his glass of wine as Nora talked. He licked the red from his fleshy lips, staring at Nora’s much-displayed cleavage like that was the meal he preferred to be devouring.
Nora was moving her hands a great deal in that way she always did when she talked. It was particularly mesmerizing tonight—her flashing hands in front of the generous swells of her breasts.
He wished to grab her hands and hold them in place—or gouge Prentiss’s eyes so he would cease to ogle her.
No. More than that.
He wanted to grab her and haul her from the room. He longed to strip her gown off her body and bury his face in those breasts, to find and taste her nipples, to discover their look and texture, to watch her writhe under him as he buried his cock deep inside her sweet quim.
It was a wholly animal reaction. Perhaps the tonic had not dispelled entirely? Except he knew that to be only a weak excuse. He’d taken it long ago. It’s power over him had long faded.
Her power over him, however, had not. He wondered if it ever would.
“Mr. Sinclair? Constantine?”
He tore his attention from Nora where she sat down the length of table. Lady Elise stared at him patiently, a kindly smile on her lips.
“Yes?”
“I was asking if you do not care for the fish?” She nodded to his untouched plate. He’d forgotten even placing the wedge of fish on his plate.
“I . . . no.” He picked up his neglected fork. “I quite enjoy it.” Then, unable to help himself, his gaze strayed to Nora again.
“Miss Langley looks lovely tonight, does she not?”
He snapped his gaze back to the woman to whom he should be devoting all his attention. “Ah. I had not noticed.”
She laughed softly, almost inaudibly, and reached for her glass with a shake of her head. Just before she brought the edge of her glass to her lips, he thought he heard her whisper.
Liar.
He looked at her sharply, studying her. He’d always judged Lady Elise to be intelligent, but he had not realized just how perceptive she was. She saw too much. Too much of him right now, at any rate.
He inhaled deeply and fixed a smile to his face. He needed to stop gawking at Nora and focus all his attention and energy on Lady Elise. She would make a fine wife. He had no doubt of that. She might have been intended for his cousin, and old Birchwood might be forcing her down his throat, but she truly was a lovely human being.
For the rest of dinner he managed to keep his attention where it should be. His gaze did not stray to Nora. Not even when he heard the lovely trill of her laughter.
After dinner, the men adjourned to the library for their brandy and whisky. Constantine managed to feign a relaxed air, staying put when Prentiss rose from his chair before anyone else. “If you’ll beg my pardon. I think I will rejoin the ladies now.”
The duke chuckled. “Ah, our fair Miss Langley has snared your admiration? It seems the duchess’s matchmaking instincts are impeccable, as always.”
“Of course Miss Langley is delightful and has her charms, but I would not go so far as to say that.” Prentiss tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves, straightening his jacket.
“You will have to settle down some day, lad,” the duke intoned. “Your mother will insist.”
“Some day,” he agreed and then offered a rather sly grin that Constantine felt the violent urge to wipe off his face. “But not anytime soon.”
“Then what are your intentions with Miss Langley?” he asked, not giving a damn how aggressive the question sounded escaping him.
The man had just declared he was not interested in honorable marriage to any woman. So what did his flirtatious behavior with Nora mean then? Certainly he was not looking for any honorable liaison with Nora. Just a liaison then.
The duke chuckled. “You sound like an outraged papa, Constantine. Miss Langley is our guest here, but you needn’t be so protective of her.” His lips curled ever so slightly. “I think we can all agree that Miss Langley can take care of herself. She is a veritable bluestocking.”
“So that means no one should have a concern for her well-being while under this roof?” he asked mildly despite his tumultuous feelings. He turned his glass around in his hand, his fingers rotating along the rim with deceptive idleness. “Is a bluestocking somehow worth less consideration?”
The duke sputtered, “N-no. That is not what I said at all.”
Not what he said. But it was what he meant.
Ever since Constantine arrived here Birchwood had been schooling him on the things that, in his opinion, mattered. Things that were important to a future duke of the realm.
Nora Langley was not one of those things as far as Birchwood was concerned and he had made that abundantly clear.
Prentiss cleared his throat, looking confused. Perhaps justifiably. “I merely enjoy Miss Langley’s company. She has quite a number of interesting theories, and she is a winsome lass. Who would not appreciate her company?”
“Indeed. On both accounts,” Constantine agreed, still staring at the duke, finding him even more contemptible a person than Prentiss. It was troubling.
He’d always respected and admired the man, but now he was coming to the bitter fresh realization that Birchwood wasn’t a benevolent man. His honor and generosity e
xtended only so long as they did not infringe on the way he thought the world ought to exist.
Prentiss motioned to the door. “I’ll . . . er . . . see you both in the drawing room shortly.”
The duke nodded. “We will join you soon. Take Miss Langley for a stroll in the garden, why don’t you? It’s a fine evening. Spring is in the air.”
The door shut behind Prentiss and they were left alone.
The duke and the heir.
They finished their drinks in silence. Words between them were unnecessary.
A line had been drawn. Tension throbbed on the air. They understood each other perfectly. Well, he understood the duke. Somehow he doubted that Birchwood understood him.
Men like Birchwood didn’t understand those who weren’t like him, and Constantine was beginning to realize that.
He was beginning to realize a great many things. One of which was that he could never be like the Duke of Birchwood. He didn’t want to be. Those aspirations were quite finished.
Such a thing was an impossibility.
Nora tried to pay attention to what Mr. Prentiss was saying.
It was a lovely evening for a stroll and he was not her usual dinner companion. He was interesting and spoke on a variety of topics.
Like Nora, he was interested in botany. Aside of Papa, she had never met another gentleman who knew that without Carl Linnaeus the world would have no formal naming system for any living thing.
He’d returned to the drawing room ahead of Constantine and Birchwood. She wondered what was keeping the two gentlemen, and then she quickly told herself that she did not care. Constantine’s actions were of no concern to her.
Constantine had sat at the other end of the dining table from her and every time she glanced his way he had seemed deep in conversation with Lady Elise. The sight had served as a proper reminder. They had no need for further interaction, and she had no business concerning herself with his actions.
“Miss Langley?”
“Hm?” She refocused on the gentleman beside her.
“Did you hear my question?” he pressed, his eyes gleaming at her in the evening gloom.
She supposed she had not. As interesting as she happened to find him, her thoughts drifted to Constantine again and again. Right or wrong, she could not stop herself.
She supposed he was in the drawing room by now. She did not imagine he would keep Lady Elise waiting for long. He was too gentlemanly for that.
Nora could see them now in her mind, their handsome heads bent close together in genial conversation.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Do you think we should return to the drawing room now?” She turned back in the direction they had come, to the well-lit house, not giving Mr. Prentiss a choice to the contrary. She had been somewhat coerced into the stroll. She was actually surprised at how readily the duchess approved their walk, beaming her assent when he asked Nora if she would care for a stroll.
She had obliged and now she was ready to return inside.
Mr. Prentiss stayed at her side, keeping a fast grip on her arm. She could not help noticing how his thumb moved in a small circle against the inside of her arm. She resisted the urge to yank her arm free and simply quickened her steps, eager to reach the room where she might be rid of his touch.
“So soon?” he inquired with an unbecoming pout to his voice.
Up ahead a footman stood sentry at the balcony doors leading into the drawing room and a relieved breath slipped past her lips. “I should like to visit with the ladies, too,” she responded vaguely.
“How long will you be staying in Town? There is a fine exhibit I should like to escort—”
“I will be departing at the week’s end.” She assumed so, at least. Perhaps sooner if she could extricate herself from the duchess. She had not chosen a particular day, but Nora could not stay here forever. She saw no point in remaining to attend Constantine’s betrothal ball. Her presence was not necessary for that.
In fact, she preferred to be far away when that happened.
“Oh, well. There is some time then. Perhaps Wednesday you would like to accompany me?”
“I shall have to see what the duchess has in store for me. She keeps me quite occupied.” Not an untruth precisely.
The footman opened the doors for them and they stepped inside.
She was correct in assuming Constantine would have joined them by now. She was also correct to assume he would be sitting beside Lady Elise.
“Ah! Back so soon,” the duchess declared, sharing a conspiratorial wink with her friend, Mrs. Prentiss.
She looked to Constantine. He gazed at her with an unreadable expression.
“Ah. Yes.” She nodded and lightly touched her temple, suddenly landing on the excuse. “I’ve a bit of an aching head.”
“Oh. Hope you’re not coming down with anything.” The duchess tsked with a concerned shake of her head.
“Indeed. Perhaps you should retire early for the night?” the duke suggested, his expression as empty as ever when he looked at her. At least since she had dared to interfere with his and Sir Anthony’s care of his wife and Sinclair had challenged him on her behalf.
Since that had happened, the duke’s aversion for her was palpable even during this evening’s dinner that the duchess claimed, ironically, was in Nora’s honor.
“Yes.” Clearly the duke desired to be rid of her, but Nora did not care. She clung greedily to the excuse, her gaze skimming Constantine with his elusive stare and Mr. Prentiss with his faintly hungry look. “I think I will retire for the night. Thank you for that suggestion, Your Grace.” She would happily remove herself from this room and its inhabitants. “Good evening, all.”
Turning, she departed the room, feeling a number of stares boring into her back.
Constantine stared after Nora even though it was evident she was gone from the room. He felt as though he were caught in some manner of spell—a trance—and he could not look away.
Conversation flowed around him in the drawing room, but he heard not a single word. He could not bring himself to focus on them. He continued to stare at the double doors as though she might return.
Of course she would not.
If he had the good fortune to leave, he would not return either.
“Mr. Sinclair?”
At the dulcet voice, he dragged his attention to Lady Elise. “Yes?”
She bestowed a forbearing smile on him. “Walk with me, would you, sir?” Without waiting for his answer, she rose and led the way outside in a gentle swish of skirts. Of course she was accustomed to being in command. Privilege granted one such a thing.
He followed.
Once outside, he offered her his arm and together they strolled through the gardens in companionable silence. He had never been so grateful for the fact that she wasn’t a chatty female.
“Lovely evening,” she murmured.
“Indeed.”
Then, after some moments of peaceful quiet, she volunteered, “Miss Langley is a very accomplished young lady.”
He slid her a cautious glance. “Yes. She is.”
“Not very traditional.”
“No indeed.” He chuckled lightly. “She is not that.”
“I don’t imagine she would be interested in joining my sewing circle. We’ve been working on pillow lace the past two weeks.”
“Ah,” he said noncommittally, determined not to say anything to even indirectly insult Lady Elise’s pastime. Although he could not help smiling. He could not envision Nora spending even an hour at such a task.
“Well, however disinclined to sewing she may be, I imagine she will one day be a fine partner to some fortunate gentleman.”
Constantine stopped and faced her, no longer believing this was a casual conversation. Lady Elise’s remarks felt very purposeful. “I imagine she will.”
“You know, Mr. Sinclair, the world shall not cease to exist if you and I fail to make a match.” She released his arm and moved to a nearby garden bench
. Sinking down upon it, she lifted her face to look up at him expectantly. “Sometimes things simply aren’t meant to be. Unions . . . are not meant to be. There are many unhappy ton marriages because people fail to recognize that.”
He considered her. “I would agree with that assessment.”
Although the world might cease to exist for the Duke and Duchess of Birchwood if he and Lady Elise failed to make a match.
Except Constantine found that he no longer cared. It appeared, based on the nature of this conversation, that Lady Elise did not care either. Apparently she was not overly attached to the notion of marrying him and he felt a great weight lift from his shoulders.
He could feel no sense of obligation toward her. He could go where his heart willed.
“Very good.” Lady Elise nodded once. “I am so glad we have that settled between us. Now.” She clapped her hands and pushed back to her feet. “Shall we return inside? I fear staying out here much longer only feeds their hopes.”
“Indeed. Dally much longer and they shall have the wedding banns composed and ready for posting.”
She giggled at his half-jest and took his proffered arm. “I suspect there could be wedding banns soon though. Only not for you and me.”
He sent her a sharp look.
“Oh, come now.” She arched an eyebrow. “Do not look so very guarded, Mr. Sinclair. Give yourself time to sit with the notion and let it seep into you. You and Miss Langley would make quite the fine pair. As I said . . . some unions are not meant to be. Inversely, some are.”
As he escorted Lady Elise back into the drawing room, her words echoed in his mind and he realized he did not need very much time to sit with the notion at all.
It had already seeped into him.
He already knew.
Chapter 25
Nora had just sent Bea off to bed for the night when a knock sounded on her door.
She’d permitted Bea to assist in the removal of her gown and brushing of her hair. Bea actually gave her little choice. She simply set to work on Nora, and Nora submitted. By now she had learned it would do little good to protest her maid’s attentions. Bea would have her way. Nora might as well submit.
The Duke Effect EPB Page 18