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

and power felt palpable. She sensed it in the same way the air felt charged preceding a storm.

Again, this was merely her professional opinion and not that of a female given to appreciating the male form in any carnal manner.

A familiar quote from Julius Caesar sprang to mind . . . a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much; such men are dangerous.

Treading water, she swallowed against the thickness in her throat.

“I’ll leave you to your pond, miss.” He executed a bow. Rather ridiculous under the circumstances, but there was nothing ridiculous about this man. Indeed not. As he bent at the waist with his clothes bunched up in front of him to shield his manhood from her eyes, she could only squint, peering at him as though she might see through the garments. Impossible, of course. Unfortunate, that.

Unfortunate?

What was wrong with her? Clearly her scientific curiosity was getting the best of her and edging into new territory. Sexual curiosity.

Was it any wonder? Her sisters were constantly exchanging heated glances with their husbands, touching and brushing against each other in small ways they thought to be discreet.

She swam carefully for the shoreline, reminding herself that she did not know this man. She picked a spot to emerge a safe distance from him. Water rushed from her body, dripping down her heavily sodden garments as she rose from the pond, eyeing him warily. “I was not here to swim,” she grumbled.

“But this is your pond upon which I trespass?”

She hesitated before giving a brief nod of assent. It was her brother-in-law’s pond, but she would not go into that with this stranger.

“Well then. As requested, your privacy.” He gestured around them. “Feel free to continue falling from trees.”

She snorted. Falling from trees, indeed? Did he think she fell into the pond on purpose? It really was quite lowering. She was more skilled than that. His presence was to blame for her lapse in physical adroitness. He had startled her.

Before she could correct him of his misapprehension, however, he was gone.

With a swift turn, he disappeared into the foliage. A horse soon nickered from inside the thicket. He was not on foot then. That meant he was taking himself off with all swiftness. Good riddance.

Confident she was again alone, she turned her attention to her satchel still hanging from her person, and quickly inspected the jar inside. A relieved breath escaped her. The slivers of bark were still safely inside. The lid had held fast and that troubling man was gone. All good things. She had her equilibrium back. She had enough work to occupy her without adding matters of erotic curiosity to her plate. She’d leave that for others who were searching for a man to bring them fulfillment.

Nora was no such female.

Tucking the jar back inside her satchel, she gave it a satisfied pat and headed in the direction of Haverston Hall, cringing at the sensation of her heavy, wet garments clinging to her body. At least it was not a cold day. It would have been even more miserable if she had fallen into the pond during the winter. Of course, he would not have been indulging in a swim in the midst of winter. There would have been that benefit.

She walked, water squishing from her boots. Not a comfortable sensation.

No doubt she would have to explain to Mrs. Conally what happened. The housekeeper would take one look at her and demand an explanation. She was not easily put off with excuses or tactics of avoidance.

She knew better than to enter through the grand front doors of the house where her arrival would be much noticed and exclaimed over. The staff was on high alert these days when it came to her. Her sisters had conspired to make certain she now took her meals with the family, forbidding her from asking for a tray in her room where she could eat as she worked. Alone.

It was this very aloneness they so objected to. She didn’t know why they should disapprove. It did not bother Nora. Marian and Charlotte insisted she was on her way to becoming a hermit. A terrible fate, apparently, and one they refused to allow her. What they failed to understand was that she was the happiest when she was buried in her work. It’s what she loved.

She slipped through the servants’ entrance in the back of the hall, listening for a moment, dripping in the corridor, to the sounds of the staff busy in