Sinclair looked none too pleased, but that would be no different than how he looked in general . . . at least in their short acquaintance.

She sat in the swelling silence, trying not to let the awkwardness of the moment overtake her. No easy task when her sister and brother-in-law abandoned her to the company of Sinclair in what was an obvious attempt at matchmaking.

She rubbed her sweating palms on her skirts. Sweating palms was a physiological reaction to a stressful situation. Nora supposed this qualified. Sweaty palms. Dilated eyes. Irregular breathing. Nausea even. Yes, yes, yes, yes. At least she wasn’t retching at his feet.

She breathed in and out slowly, trying to ease her nerves.

She glanced to the liveried footman. Danny, she believed his name. He stared ahead, not glancing at them, acting as though he was oblivious to their very existence, but, of course, he was not. Of course, he was listening to their every word and would no doubt report it all later below stairs to those who were interested.

Perhaps Marian was not attempting to matchmake. Nora considered this. It was rather extreme, after all, to imagine herself with a duke. Nora would be the first to declare such a thing absurd. Unfortunately, her sister did not recognize that. Apparently she thought a handsome, virile duke was within Nora’s reach.

Nora dipped her head to hide her smirk. It would be easier for Nora to rope the moon than snare the heir to a dukedom. Even if she wanted to . . . which she resoundingly did not.

Marian could accomplish such a thing. She had accomplished it, after all, because she was Marian. It was within her reach—obviously. With her beauty and grace, Marian naturally slid into the role of duchess. She’d actually served as a companion to a duke’s daughter for a time before Papa died and she had to return home. Marian knew how that world functioned.

Nora did not know or care to know. She actually chafed against the binds of this life and it wasn’t even her life. Not really. This was Marian’s life. Nora was merely included in it.

Perhaps Marian was not matchmaking as much as attempting to soothe over Sinclair’s ruffled feathers. By leaving him alone with me?

Nora almost giggled at that. She was not known for her charming disposition. It usually did not take a gentleman long to make his excuses and leave her company.

Sinclair had not hidden how very aggrieved he was over her deception. Marian had tried to reassure him, little good it had done. He’d not disguised his contempt of her during their garden stroll.

A glimpse of motion drew her attention back to him as he lifted his glass for a drink. She watched him, the way his throat moved, tendons working in the lamplight. He drank deeply, as though trying to empty his glass. Of course he was anxious to take his leave.