Constantine looked up from the ledger he was perusing with a sigh and rubbed at the back of his neck where tension seemed to be gathering.

Since that miserable dinner a few days ago, he continued to bury himself in the task of familiarizing himself with the Birchwood estate. The duke and duchess might spend all their time in Town, but they were in possession of several properties throughout the country that required managing.

He knew his self-imposed solitude couldn’t last. He was courting Lady Elise and he knew what was expected of him. Courting. He needed to call on her lest she think his interest had waned.

He had promised as much to old Birchwood. He knew they expected him to propose soon. Despite that, he had kept to himself for three days.

He dined out at his club or took a tray in his room. No one had remarked on his absence yet, but he knew it was coming. They would think he was avoiding people and they would be right.

He had to face that this was the reality of his life. The duke had made that reality perfectly clear, after all. This kind of delay would not be tolerated, and truthfully it was cowardly. Even by Constantine’s standards. He could not hide from the people in his life forever. Of course, of all the people he was avoiding, he could think only of her. Nora.

He had to face her—for however long she was here.

Seated at the office’s great mahogany desk, he stared out the window that looked out over the back garden.

As though his thoughts had conjured her, she suddenly appeared.

Nora strolled arm in arm with the duchess amid the wild profusion of flowers. The sunlight turned her hair to spun gold. He could stare at it all day long.

Immediately, he felt the tug of a smile on his mouth. She had discomfited everyone at dinner the other night with her bold speech and ideas. Except for Lady Elise, who found her to be a delightful bluestocking. Elise was forward thinking that way—a definite point in her favor.

Everyone else had looked at Nora as though she were a two-headed creature in their midst. She knew she was a bit of a bluestocking. Very well. A very significant bluestocking.

He chuckled and fell back in his chair. She had been the single delight of an otherwise miserable evening, which was troubling. Everyone else at the table happened to be his peers, the manner of people with whom he would spend the rest of his life. She would not be in his life. Not permanently. He should not enjoy her so much.

Nora Langley did not possess an inauthentic bone in her body, which was strange considering he knew her to be a proven deceiver.

The duchess pointed at a flower and Nora crouched down to collect it for her.