The Duke Effect (The Rogue Files #7) - Sophie Jordan Page 0,50
easily become dependent on the drug for relief for her recurring pain. In that event, she would not even be herself anymore. She would just be a shell of a person craving her next dose.
She stretched out a hand. “Wait. I do not think—”
“That will be all, Miss Langley,” the duke’s voice whipped across the air. “Your services are no longer needed here.” She flinched. He had never spoken to her in such a way. The man fairly sneered the word services. And his eyes . . .
He looked at her as though she were something to be scraped from the bottom of his boot. It was cutting . . . and an effective reminder of where she ranked here, in this place, among these people—of just how little value she held.
Just beyond the duke, the doctor slipped a hand beneath the duchess’s neck and lifted her head so that she could drink the medicine.
Her shoulders slumped. It was done then.
“Now,” the doctor proclaimed and he resumed rummaging through his bag. “Let’s fetch a bowl so that we may bleed her.” He cast a quick glance around, his gaze alighting on a maid lurking nearby. He nodded to her. “A bowl and some additional linens, please.”
“No! No bloodletting.” She lunged to grasp his arm. “She is too weak for that.”
The doctor looked down at her hand with wide eyes and a faintly curling upper lip. “Your Grace? Who is this . . . person and why is she touching me?”
Person was a kind substitution for what he really thought. She knew that at once from the way he looked her up and down.
“No one. She is no one.” The duke sent a pointed look to her hand. “Release Sir Anthony at once, Miss Langley, and leave this room.”
She is no one. His words reverberated like a tolling clang in her head. Here, in this place, she was no one. All she would ever be to these people was no one.
She slid her hand from the man’s arm, feeling a bit stunned at the duke’s rudeness.
“Your Grace,” a deep voice intoned. “Have a care.”
Nora twisted around to find the source. Her gaze landed on Sinclair. She had not noticed his arrival in the chamber, but, of course, he was here. He was the duke’s shadow, acclimated to his new role, never far away. Except his usual stoic demeanor was gone. He looked quietly furious.
“I beg your pardon?” Birchwood sputtered.
“Miss Langley is my guest. Have a care how you address her.”
Nora looked back and forth between the two men, sensing an exchange passing between them, a dialogue she could not understand.
“Your guest?”
“Yes.” The single word fell dark and heavy, and something physically came over the duke’s body. The older man settled back on his heels, his shoulders easing, sinking as he stared wide-eyed at Sinclair.
“Come now,” Sinclair said gently beside her, turning away from Birchwood. “Let’s take some air. You’ve been cooped up in this room long enough. You must be overly tired.”
She looked helplessly at the wan duchess in the middle of the bed, reluctant to leave her. Her face was drawn tight in pain. Her head rolled side to side on the pillow, her lips muttering nonsensical words. At least she was unaware of what was going on around her. She was spared their squabbling.
He settled his hand on her elbow and tugged her away until she let go of the doctor. She nodded numbly and let herself be led from the room.
Of course, it was time to leave the chamber. Just as it was time to leave this place—this house, this city.
She had not succeeded. She had not accomplished the one thing she was supposed to do here.
“You did your best.”
She slipped her arm free of Sinclair and looked up at him. “You don’t believe that. You did not think I could help her in the first place.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know that anyone can help her.” He nodded back toward the chamber. “He has attended her several times and he hasn’t cured her yet. Perhaps no one can.”
And yet Nora had been so confidant. Arrogant even. Her disappointment was keen. She crossed her arms across her chest. “Since I am no longer needed here, I’ll leave on the morrow.”
He blinked. “What?”
“It is clear my purpose here is at an end.” She swallowed, regretting the tightness in her voice. She did not want him to think she was hurt. She did not want his pity.