He stared back at her in silence, his lips pressed into an unforgiving line. He read her discomfort and he, of course, understood the reason for it. One word of encouragement from him would go a long way in appeasing her and making her feel welcome here again, and yet he held silent, locked in his aristocratic privilege. The man had likely never issued anything remotely resembling an apology in his life. He would not start now. She knew better than to expect that.

“I agree with the duchess. You must stay. I insist,” Constantine spoke up, interrupting the staring spell between Nora and the Duke of Birchwood. “Her Grace has planned this dinner in your honor. You cannot disappoint her.”

Nora considered him carefully, wondering if he was agreeing for himself or for the sake of the Duchess of Birchwood. Did he want her to remain for Her Grace? Or perhaps he wanted her to stay at Birchwood House, in small part, for himself?

It felt like a dangerous thought and something she should not even be wondering. There was no purpose in it. There was no hope or possibility of anything romantic between them. Last night had simply been a consequence of a difficult situation. The tonic was the reason behind their tryst and she needed to keep that at the front of her mind.

The duke frowned, the heavy lines of his face deepening. This time, however, his ire seemed focused on Sinclair. He did not even glance at Nora. It was as though she was invisible.

Sinclair looked back at the older man, his expression mild, unaffected.

“Indeed, Nora.” The duchess nodded cheerfully and pressed the point. “You cannot disappoint me.”

“Come now,” Constantine coaxed. “You should have already left if you wished to catch the morning train.”

A fair point. She had lingered in the duchess’s chamber longer than she intended.

Constantine’s lips twisted wryly and she wondered what he truly thought of her staying here longer. After she rejected his most insulting proposal last night—if one could even call it a proposal—she had assumed he was ready to see the last of her. No doubt even eager for it. Then he could get back to his life and courtship of the lovely Lady Elise.

Nora looked back and forth between them with a rueful smile. “How am I to deny such expert cajolers?”

“Brilliant.” The duchess motioned to the tea that had undoubtedly gone cold on her bedside table. “We have much to do today in preparation.”

“You should rest today so that you are in good form for tomorrow,” the duke interjected.

“Hm,” his wife replied noncommittally with a vague wave of her hand. “Where is Mrs. Blankenship? If I am to stay in this infernal bed, then I must see her to go over all the arrangements.”

“Would you like me to locate her for you?” Nora offered.

“Oh, would you? Thank you, my dear.”