The Duke Effect EPB

by Jordan, Sophie

  Her gaze slid toward the door, strategizing how she might get him to leave without just telling him to leave.

  She faced him again. He looked at her expectantly, arching one eyebrow.

  “Yes?”

  “Need I be the one to say it?”

  Her chin lifted. “I think you’re going to have to.”

  “You are irreparably compromised.”

  She blinked. At least he had not said ruined again. She might have slapped him if he had.

  He held up both hands and pumped them in the air as though encouraging her to say something, to reach what clearly, to him, seemed an obvious conclusion.

  “I’ll speak to the duke tomorrow and then we can travel to Brambledon to—”

  “Wait. What? Why would you want to travel to Brambledon with me?”

  “To inform your family that we must marry. Of course.”

  Of course.

  Must marry . . .

  The word must made her feel faintly sick. She pressed a hand to her suddenly roiling stomach, wishing she could scrub the sound of it from her ears.

  She laughed mirthlessly. “You really know how to charm a lady.” She held up two fingers. “I’ve been insulted with two thoughtless proposals from you now. Two.” She angled her head. “But can we even call these proposals since you have proposed nothing? You simply told me what we’re going to do as though you hold authority over me.”

  “Nora,” he began.

  “I took you into my body. I did not give you leave to take over my life.”

  He flinched and it was most satisfying. Wrong or right, it felt good to see him affected . . . maybe even hurt.

  Because she was hurting. She was hurting so deeply.

  “I’m sorry. I did not realize there was any other conclusion to be drawn after—”

  “Get out,” she demanded, looking away from him, unable to look at his face, wondering at the pain sweeping through her.

  She should not feel like this. Not at all.

  “Nora, we have to talk about this and do the correct thing here. The responsible thing.”

  There had been nothing correct or responsible about what just occurred in this bed. It had been desire. Lust. How could he not see that?

  It had been emotion.

  Rare emotion from him . . . and even from her.

  It had been love. Apparently he did not realize that or feel the same way.

  She loved him. Foolishly, she had fallen. Just as her sisters had. She was not immune, after all.

  She forced her gaze back on his face, blinking back the burn of tears. “I’ll not suffer a third proposal from you. Go. Leave.” She uttered the word proposal as though it were the foulest of epithets.

  He stared back at her and she knew he was contemplating his next move. She didn’t look away. She fixed her hard stare on him, letting him know she was serious.

  He stood and donned his clothes. Dressed, his jacket in his hands, he faced her. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” Turning, he left her chamber.

  They would not talk tomorrow.

  Tomorrow she would be gone.

  Chapter 27

  It felt oddly familiar as Nora and Bea crept from the house before anyone was awake.

  Bea had not liked being roused from bed so early. She had plenty of questions. None of which Nora answered. She certainly was not going to share her motivation for their sudden and surreptitious departure. It was her private business. Not Bea, not anyone, was entitled to know that she had surrendered her heart to a man who did not want it. Broken hearts were a secret matter.

  Dawn was splitting the sky as they arrived at the station. A porter helped them with their luggage, carrying it inside the mostly empty building.

  “It’s so early. There won’t be a train for hours,” Bea complained as they approached the ticket stand.

  Nora ignored her and fished the money out of her reticule to pay their fare.

  Bea continued, “Why did we have to arrive here so early? We could have enjoyed breakfast first.”

  “Because I did not want to encounter anyone in the duke’s household.”

  “Are we running away then?” Bea’s frown deepened. “What happened? What did you do?”

  Nora shook her head swiftly, bristling at Bea’s very accurate assumption that something had transpired. “Nothing,” she lied. “I have done nothing.”

  Except fall in love with a man who was all about duty. A man who was so far removed from her that marriage to her would be viewed as his greatest failure by his family and peers alike.

  Tickets in hand, they found a bench to sit on and waited for the arrival of their train.

  She was gone.

  Nora was gone.

  Constantine had scarcely slept a wink since last night, tossing and turning, and playing over how badly he had botched everything with Nora. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he find the right words with her?

  He rose from bed this morning with the resolve to make everything right. To win her. He had to win her and it had nothing to do with duty. It had nothing to do with obligation or the fact that he had compromised her last night.

  He wanted her. He wanted her for his wife. In the clear light of dawn, he recognized that. He may not deserve her, but he wanted her.

  Dressed, he departed his chamber with eager steps.

  He wanted her for her.

  He would begin by telling her that. That was his plan. Except she was gone.

  She and her maid and all of their belongings were gone.

  She had to have left very early this morning as no servant had seen them depart. As far as he knew, she didn’t know anybody in Town.

  She had to be leaving for home, returning to Brambledon.

  That meant she had gone to the train station. Hopefully, she was still there, waiting on a train. If he hurried, he could stop her. He moved for the stairs at a run, skipping steps as he descended.

  “Constantine,” the duke called out to him, spotting him as he passed quickly through the foyer.

  “Sorry,” he called out with a distracted wave, not even slowing his pace. “No time to talk. Bit of a rush.”

  “Ho! Hold there!” The duke wasn’t to be deterred. He moved faster than Constantine had ever observed, cutting in front of him and blocking him from passing through the front door. “Where are you off to in such haste?”

  Constantine exhaled with exasperation, disinclined to reveal his purpose to the man. For one thing, it would require time he did not wish to waste.

  “I will return soon and we can talk then, Your Grace.”

  He sidestepped around the man in his anxiousness, stopping abruptly, however, at the duke’s next words. “You’re going after the Langley chit.”

  It was not a question. It was a statement. Birchwood knew. He knew she was gone.

  Constantine turned slowly to face the old man. “How do you know that?”

  Birchwood shrugged. “I was standing at my bedchamber window early this morning. I saw her and her maid sneak off like two thieves in the night with their luggage.” He sniffed in disapproval.

  Constantine took a hard step toward him and then stopped, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You didn’t try to stop her?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  Constantine stared at the man for a long moment, letting that question take route before he finally answered with a truth that was not difficult for him to acknowledge. “Because I’m in love with her.”

  He scoffed. “What does that matter?”

  “It matters because I want to marry her.”

  The duke laughed harshly then. “You’ve always been soft. Just like that father of yours, marrying a woman so beneath his station.”

  “Careful,” Constantine warned.

  Birchwood continued as though he had not spoken. “She was Greek, you know. Your mother’s family. Your grandmother did not even speak the Queen’s English.” He shook his head in disdain. “Your father was a fool.”

>   Constantine glared at him, seeing the man more clearly than he ever had. For months now, the man had been schooling him, training him, showing him how to be a duke, showing him the way in all matters . . . showing him how to be like him.

  The man continued, “Do you think you love the chit? Fine. Shag her. Put her up as your mistress. You don’t marry a girl like that.”

  “I will marry her, if she will have me.”

  “Don’t be a fool like your father.”

  Constantine motioned to the door. “I’m going after her. I’ll return later for my things.”

  “Your things?” The duke shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t—”

  “That’s correct. I’ve learned all I want to learn from you and I’ll be moving into a house of my own.”

  “Now see here, Sinclair!” His face reddened. Blustering, he stabbed a finger after him. “You cannot think you can simply inherit my title and fortune and know how to properly manage—”

  “Oh, I can and I will inherit your title and fortune because that is the law.” He turned on his heels and opened the front door. He looked over his shoulder. “And I will manage just fine.”

  “It’s time to go,” Nora announced as their train was called for the second time.

  She and Bea had obtained a porter to help them with their luggage and they maneuvered through the station, much more crowded now than when they had arrived. Voices buzzed around them and train whistles blew alongside the rumble of steam engines.

  Bodies bustled into them, and someone bumped into Nora. She dropped her reticule and bent to pick it up. Straightening, she paused as a single shout split the air, amid all the other noises.

  “Nora! Noraaaa!”

  “Is someone calling you?” Bea looked from her to the area around them, scanning the many faces.

  Trepidation tripped down her spine, heightening her sense of urgency. “Of course not. Come. Let’s go. We don’t want to miss our train.” She tugged on Bea’s arm and hastened forward.

  “Nora!”

  Bea pulled back on her hand. “Oh, come now. Did you not hear that? It was definitely your name.”

  Bea looked back into the crowd, and Nora reluctantly followed her gaze.

  “There!” Bea stabbed a finger in the air.

  Stomach plummeting to her feet, Nora froze, watching as Constantine darted through people, bumping into them roughly with little regard to courtesy.

  Bea looked back at her with a smug look. “What’s he doing here, I wonder?”

  She shrugged, shaking off her astonishment at seeing him there. “I don’t have any earthly notion. Perhaps he has come to collect someone.”

  “Indeed. You.”

  She shot Bea a glare. “We are going to miss our train.” Almost on cue, the final call for their train bellowed across the air. Bea didn’t budge. “Fine,” Nora snapped, a fiery ball of desperation spreading through her chest. “Stay here or join me. I’m going.”

  She turned stiffly. With a nod for the porter, she continued on her way.

  Of course, she did not make it very far.

  A hand clamped on her arm and spun her around. “Nora!”

  “What are you doing?” she hissed, glancing around them. It’s not as though they had any privacy for this encounter. This was a very public place.

  “Why did you leave?”

  “We’ve said all there is to say.”

  “I haven’t said all there is to say.” He beat his chest with his palm for emphasis. “I have a great deal more to say to you.”

  She laughed humorlessly. “Oh, no. You have said more than enough. Please, say nothing more and let me go with as little spectacle as possible. I know you don’t want that.”

  She snorted. Indeed not. The Duke of Birchwood would not appreciate that. It could generate rumors about his precious heir.

  “I could give a bloody damn about spectacles,” he growled.

  She jerked at his voice, loud enough for the people around them to hear. She glanced around them. Several people stopped to gape at them.

  “You don’t want to do this,” she warned. “Lady Elise could—”

  “I don’t care about Lady Elise. I care about you!”

  “I knew it!” Bea declared nearby from gawking distance, grinning madly. She nudged the porter as though he were privy to the situation.

  “Are you . . .” Nora glanced around and then added in hushed tones, “Inebriated?”

  He blinked. “What? No! I am completely of sound mind. I am perhaps the most clear-headed I’ve ever been!”

  Nora frowned, squeezing the bridge of her nose. “What’s come over you?” She shook her head. “This is not like you. You’re not . . .” An exhibitionist. Emotional.

  “What’s come over me?” He laughed and the sound was almost giddy. “You!” He spread his arms wide. “You have come over me.”

  People were definitely staring now.

  “Hush.” Nora waved at her lips as if that were indication enough he should silence and put a stop to his very public display.

  “I’m sorry I offended you before . . . I won’t do so again.” A determined glint entered his eyes.

  “What are—”

  She did not get the rest of her words out. He dropped before her on his knees and seized her hand.

  Bea squealed from nearby. People surrounding them gasped. A crowd seemed to grow. She even heard the hiss of his name. Sinclair. Soon followed by Birchwood.

  Of course he was recognized.

  “Nora . . .” He took a breath and lowered his voice. Suddenly, in this moment, it was just the two of them. “Will you marry me?” His third proposal . . . but this time done the right way.

  She shook her head. “Constantine, you don’t want to—”

  “I want to marry you.”

  She looked down at him, fighting hard not to enjoy the warm clasp of his hand around hers too much. “Why?” she demanded. “You want to marry me? Why?”

  A pregnant pause followed her question.

  Everyone around them seemed to be waiting, too. Holding their breaths in collective silence.

  He smiled slowly and she felt the warmth of that grin spreading like sunlight through her. “Because I love you.”

  That warmth exploded into fire in her chest. “You don’t.”

  “I do.”

  He pushed to his feet and seized her face in both of his hands. “I love you. I love you and I don’t want a future with anyone but you.”

  “But . . . you’re going to be a duke—”

  “I am foremost a man. A man that can be whatever kind of duke he wants to be . . . as long as I have you with me. As long as I have you at my side. I want to be happy, Nora, and I can’t be that without you. Please. Make me happy. Let me make you happy.”

  “Constantine,” she whispered.

  “Nora,” he returned. “Say, yes. Say you love me—”

  “I do love you—”

  “Then that’s all that matters. Say you’ll marry me and together we will build a life. One that we both want. You and me.” His pressed his mouth to hers, right there in the middle of the station, in front of everyone.

  She heard a garbled shout of encouragement from Bea, but she could not process the words . . . and she did not care.

  All her attention was fixed on Constantine. “Yes. I’ll marry you.” He kissed her then, again, to shouts and applause and the roar of a train engine, taking its departure without her.

  He lifted his head, his eyes gleaming brightly down at her. “You missed your train.”

  She smiled back at him. “I didn’t miss anything.”

  Epilogue

  Ten years later . . .

  After donning and casting aside no less than five garments, Nora settled on a brown and cream striped day dress with a minimum amount of bustle.

  “You are certain this is the one?” Bea asked, gathering up the discarded dresses.

  Nora examined herself critically in the mirror, turning to obse
rve herself from every angle. “Yes.” She nodded with satisfaction. “This is the one.”

  The day dress was modest and functional. She should be able to maneuver about in it with ease, and the jaunty little lace at the collar was smart and struck her as quite studious.

  “It is rather . . . plain,” Bea offered with a wrinkling of her nose.

  “Plain is not a bad thing, Bea. I am not going to a garden party.”

  “Hm.” Bea sniffed and Nora knew her thoughts perfectly. As far as her dear maid was concerned, Nora should always be attired as though she were going before the queen.

  Nora, however, did not wish to proclaim to the world that she was a member of the aristocracy—even if she was. The goal was to look presentable and not stand out as anything other than a first year medical student.

  Sometimes she even forgot that she had married an heir to a dukedom. She rather suspected that her husband forgot, too. Or at least that he did not care. He preferred to live as Constantine Sinclair and not the Birchwood heir.

  One day, in the future, the title would be his. When that day arrived, he would accept it—they would accept it. On their terms. Together.

  He would define the role and not the other way around.

  Naturally, Nora and Constantine did not fill their days with balls and routs and social calls. They did not visit court or pander to the Duke and Duchess of Birchwood. They lived their own life together and it was splendid.

  They had seen very little of the Duke and Duchess of Birchwood since they had married. They’d chosen a different path and it was not one the Duke of Birchwood approved, but Constantine did not mourn the loss of the duke’s approval. Indeed not. They spent much of their time contentedly at home in the country. They had only just recently moved back to Town in time for Nora to begin medical school.

  Up until this point, Nora had continued practicing the herbal arts and medicine whilst Constantine had turned his energy to matters of veteran affairs. There was very little in place for soldiers upon returning home, so Constantine had created multiple charity houses to support injured and aging soldiers, helping them acclimate and ease back into society. They each had their separate vocations as well as each other—as well as their life together.