The Duke Effect (The Rogue Files #7) - Sophie Jordan Page 0,31

when she was with the duchess—a definite test of her will as she was one to usually speak whatever came to her mind. She definitely had to channel her sisters’ calm temperaments to hold her tongue. She had no idea what kept the gentlemen away. Doubtlessly, the duke had much to teach Sinclair about his legacy.

Most heirs spent a lifetime training for the role. With three sons, clearly no one had expected Sinclair to inherit. Who had ever been afflicted with such a run of bad luck?

He had been living his own life as a colonel a world away from England. Now he was here, thrust into this new position. She wondered what his feelings were on the matter. He hardly appeared gleeful over his new fate. She suspected he was not enamored with the change of his circumstance, however, he was not one to reveal his emotions.

She sank down on the bench before the dressing table and allowed Bea to work on her hair, telling herself she did not care one way or another with the end result. She was not here to win people over with her appearance, and she was certainly not here to charm Mr. Sinclair. This paragon Lady Elise was welcome to him. He could court and marry whomever he chose. It had naught to do with Nora.

The day had been interminable.

Constantine had spent most of it with Birchwood and his man of affairs, Somerton, poring over ledgers and listening to the two older gentlemen reminisce about the days of their youth when both their lives had been bright and shiny, full of possibility. Days when all three of the duke’s sons had been alive, spirited boys frolicking through the halls, cheeks flushed and full of life. The specter of death had been nowhere in sight.

Constantine tried not to reveal how awkward he felt in those moments, knowing his very presence was a reminder to the Birchwoods of all they had lost. He would forever represent that to them—loss.

Constantine was a symbol of their grief. It was a heavy burden to bear, and yet he would bear it. He would do his best to honor his lost cousins and the duke and duchess. It was the least he owed to them.

Birchwood glanced at the clock ticking the seconds above the mantel. “Ah! How time has flown. We’d best adjourn for the day. My dear Maude will not be happy if we are not dressed and ready for dinner on time, Constantine.”

He nodded. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Birchwood’s man of affairs gathered up his books and ledgers and took his leave then with a crisp bow to each of them. Before Constantine could follow him from the room, Birchwood stalled him with a hand on his arm. “A word, please.”

Constantine nodded, waiting for the door to click shut behind Somerton. He looked expectantly to the duke.

The man’s hand on Con’s arm gave an encouraging squeeze. “Lady Elise, as you know, will be in attendance this evening.”

“Yes.” He nodded, wariness instantly creeping over him. “I’m aware.” The duke’s gaze grew heavy in the pause to follow. “I look forward to seeing her.”

“Very good. Very good. You’ve been spending a great deal of time in her company of late, much to our delight.”

“Yes,” he echoed, feeling like a parrot.

Of course he spent a great deal of time with Lady Elise. He had no choice. Every time he turned around, the duchess was inviting her to dinner, or to their theater box, or for tea or a ride through the park. He could not escape the lass.

It was clear that the Birchwoods wanted him to spend time with her much as their son had done.

The duke leaned forward and tugged Con closer simultaneously, almost bringing their heads into contact. Con was not certain the reason for the closeness. No one else was in the room to overhear them.

“She’s a lovely chit. Easy to like.” The duke’s eyes gleamed. “To say nothing of her pedigree. The Drafford title goes back as far as the Conqueror.”

Con nodded slowly. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Really, what else could he say?

“A feast for the eyes, too,” Birchwood added. “Such beauty.”

Con eased back a step, no longer able to endure the duke’s less than fragrant breath in such close proximity. The man had a penchant for cigars and pickled pollock for breakfast. “Indeed.”

The duke frowned at him. “You’re not a very demonstrative fellow. Been that way ever since you were a lad. Such a stoic little lad when