Constantine peered rather desperately over the man’s shoulder in the general direction of the stables, his desired destination. His usual equilibrium fluttered like frayed ribbons in the wind. Coming here had been a mistake. A colossal waste of time. The doctor was dead and he’d been corresponding with a charlatan all this time.

The betrayal cut keenly.

The Duke of Warrington clapped a hand on his shoulder in a gesture that felt somewhat forced. Constantine stared at the hand and then looked back at the man’s face.

“You are not leaving so soon, are you?” Warrington inquired.

“That was my intention, yes, Your Grace.” There was nothing here for him, after all.

“You must stay the night. Half the day is lost already. Stay and you can leave at first light. It’s the sensible plan.”

The last thing he wanted was to be stuck beneath the roof with this family. He could ride a few hours and then stay the night at an inn. At least there he would not be forced to talk to anyone and make pleasantries.

“I would not want to impose—”

“Nonsense! No imposition.”

Constantine studied the man’s face, wondering why it mattered so much to him where he stayed the night. Certainly he did not care.

Warrington’s gaze skittered away from him toward the house. Constantine tracked his gaze where it rested on a window. Framed within that window stood the duchess, looking on the sight of them with a hopeful expression.

Of course, the duke’s lovely wife had put him up to this. For whatever reason, she wanted Constantine to stay the night.

“Let us ply you with fine food and a comfortable bed. You’ll not find that at any nearby inns. Cook trained in France. It is the least we can offer you after coming all this way to only be met with disappointment.”

He was making a strong argument. Constantine enjoyed fine food. Living in a tent and eating food prepared over a campfire had given him an intense appreciation for tasty fare.

Warrington nodded toward the house. “Come now. You can rest in your chamber until dinner. We’ll leave you in peace.” He pressed a hand to his heart. “You’ve my vow on that. I’ll see to it that no one disturbs you until then.”

He looked sharply at the nobleman. Was Constantine so very easy to read then? Did he have a sign looped about his neck declaring himself anxious to be rid of this place and, most notably, Miss Nora Langley?

“Very well. I cannot refuse such a generous offer of hospitality.” He would not wish word getting back to Birchwood that he refused the hospitality of a peer. He was trying to prove himself a fitting heir, after all.

“Splendid.” The duke motioned him toward the house. “Let’s get you settled then.”