The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,39

He shouldn’t have to discuss his personal affairs with anyone, least of all his brother. But then, she supposed this summed up his position in his brother’s household. Lord Constantine wasn’t the youngest, to be fawned over, or the oldest and therefore responsible one, but a middle brother on whom the only expectations placed were for him to report his activities and to make every attempt to stay out of trouble. No wonder he stood a little straighter whenever she appreciated his efforts.

“I can’t think Roman knows,” she said, tucking away the knowledge that her admiration of Lord Constantine encouraged him, for a time when it could prove useful. “He and I made our arrangement just this morning.”

Their eyebrows rose at that.

Celeste’s sisterly censure couldn’t be more obvious. “Does this mean there was a last night?”

Their attack of Lord Constantine was wearing on Elizabeth. “Not in the way you think.” She was glad when a tap at the door preceded a maid carrying an elaborate tea. Conversation stopped while the tray was set down and the plates of sandwiches and biscuits were arranged across the low table.

The moment the maid stepped out, Celeste turned her face up toward Trestin. “This is much worse than I feared. I think she has a tendre for him.”

“I don’t!” Elizabeth insisted. Even though she did, a little.

“He is handsome,” Celeste said, turning back toward the tea. She reached for the teapot and began pouring out. “Young for your tastes. Only a few years older than you.” She slid a sidelong glance at her own, younger husband. His disapproving expression didn’t change, but his golden eyes warmed a touch.

Celeste spooned sugar into each teacup. “Roman can be charming when he puts his mind to it. I’ve heard Lord Constantine, too, is a jolly sort.” Her eyes remained hooded as she adjusted the three teacups in their saucers. They made a subtle clink, clink as she touched them needlessly. Elizabeth imagined Celeste was doing her stoic best to set aside her differences with Roman and concentrate on advising Elizabeth about his brother.

After fiddling with each teacup and saucer to her satisfaction, Celeste passed a setting to Elizabeth and one to Trestin, then sat upright with her hands clasped in her lap. “If you’ve fallen for him already, it can only be because he’s as easy to like as they say. Still, it’s a very precarious situation you’ve put yourself in. If I worry for you, it is not without reason.”

Elizabeth sipped her tea without replying. What Celeste really meant was that it was not without precedent. A trace of bitterness wove through Elizabeth, but she really had no rebuttal.

“I fear ’tis too late to caution her,” Trestin murmured to his wife, as if he, too, believed it futile to think Elizabeth capable of guarding her heart. “Her mulish expression reminds me of Delilah’s when I told her that Mr. Conley was not for her.”

Celeste’s brow rose. “Your sister married Conley,” she reminded Trestin, without making an attempt to keep her voice low.

Even though Elizabeth had half a mind to reprimand them for patronizing her while she was sitting right in front of them, her heart nonetheless gave a silly little hop in her chest. But what nonsense that was! Hadn’t she already turned down Con’s butchered proposal? The thought of wedding a man that adverse to marriage was ludicrous.

The thought of losing him, however, made her feel strangely hollow.

…if I should meet a man who sets my belly fluttering while treating me as respectfully as your Lord Trestin does, I shall marry him without delay.

She would marry him—if he felt the same.

“I do wish you two would stop,” she said firmly, wanting to end the conversation before she became obstinately attached to Lord Constantine. “I’m not a naïve young girl. He’s fine-looking and thoughtful—and amiable,” she added, “and he’s shown himself to be rather determined to act as my protector. Surely when choosing a lover, a woman can ask for little more. But I’ve hardly forgotten the natural conclusion to any liaison. He will leave. Or maybe I will.”

“He will most certainly leave you,” Celeste said with no apology in her tone. “Lord Constantine must marry, eventually. I should hope that after your last amour, you will not want to be kept by a married man again.”

Elizabeth winced. She would dearly love to make a flippant riposte, but the fact remained that she had fallen in love with a married man. Nicholas Finn had been thoroughly