The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,38
gone from one extreme to the other. Lord Constantine? After everything Roman did to me? Theirs is a family of fickle-hearted rakes. How can you trust him with a so great a secret?”
Elizabeth went rigid against the couch. Not because her faith in Lord Constantine was shaken—and it was, just a bit. Celeste’s opinion mattered more than anyone’s. She was more of a sister to Elizabeth than even her own sisters, for Celeste had never turned her back on her as Sarah and Ellen had.
Had she somehow disappointed her friend again?
She simply needed to convince Celeste that she’d made the right decision. “It may be true that Roman did you an ill turn, but Lord Constantine remains the ideal choice for Oliver’s father. He’s dashing enough to have turned my head, he lives in Devon where Oliver was born, and he’s so destitute, he would have done almost anything for my banknote.” And he is kind, she almost added. The similar looks of disapproval being directed at her, however, stopped her from including anything that might be interpreted as imprudent attraction.
Trestin approached the sofa and came around the low table where a tea ought to have been set by now. He rested one hand on the back of Celeste’s shoulder so that they presented a unified front. Or else he had simply wanted to be nearer to her, and had suddenly realized she wasn’t in arm’s reach.
Whatever his reason, he now towered over Elizabeth. “You should know that I always wish to be counted on, especially when it comes to a matter this important. Lord Constantine is an aimless rogue. Not at all the type of man who can perpetrate a ruse like this. If you’d come to me rather than running off after the wedding, I could have helped you find a man better suited to the task.”
Elizabeth had to laugh at that, for she stung both from being called to the carpet for her choice and at the reminder of her loneliness following Celeste’s happy day. “What type of man, precisely, is suited to the task of duping half of England?”
“Anyone can lie for you once,” Trestin said without a breath of amusement. “There’s no constancy in Constantine, despite his name. What if Finn bribes him for the truth?”
Her breath fled her lungs. What if Trestin was right? On its heels drafted the certainty that Lord Constantine had made a commitment to Oliver. He would never tell, simply because he didn’t want to.
When she tried to make that rebuttal, Trestin continued, “Lord Constantine has no reason to keep your secret forever. There will always be a steady stream of collectors demanding money he doesn’t have.”
Perhaps it was her fanciful infatuation with Con, but she found it difficult to reconcile the warm man who’d defended her from a brute twice his size with the selfish younger son Lord Trestin described. Too, she knew now Lord Constantine wasn’t the gamester everyone thought. If he bled money, well, it was because he had a kind heart.
She felt a burst of defensiveness for the man she’d known but a few days. “He is impoverished, but I’ve come to know his character. He wouldn’t want his family to know he’s lied to them. And he’s met Nicholas twice now. He knows Nicholas will take Oliver without a second’s hesitation. I believe Lord Constantine cares about that.”
Celeste and Trestin looked at her as if she’d explained that Lord Constantine had antlers.
“In that respect, Lord Constantine makes an excellent foil,” Elizabeth continued, feeling sure her summation of him was accurate despite her friends’ obvious disbelief. “He adores Oliver. I think he doesn’t want the lie exposed. He’s even gone so far as to become my protector in truth so that Nicholas will have no cause to think Lord Constantine and I aren’t truly involved…” she almost choked over the last word, “…sexually.” Heat flushed across her chest. And yet, reducing Con to a handsome shield belittled the great lengths he’d already gone for her, to say nothing of her increasing infatuation with him.
“You’ve agreed to become his mistress?” Celeste exclaimed at the same time Trestin asked, “Does Montborne know he has a mistress?”
“Montborne?” Elizabeth repeated, knowing he meant Roman and nonetheless being unable to connect the marquis to her affairs. Then she realized Trestin’s meaning: as the head of his family and the viscount, Trestin would think Con’s eldest brother should be apprised.
Goodness. By her estimate, Con must have nearly thirty years under his belt.