Nora did not imagine that his eyes suddenly looked darker and felt more intense, more focused on her. A subtle energy crackled off him. She swallowed again. “I am suggesting that you not do it.”

He nodded once. “I am doing it.”

She exhaled. “Then perhaps we should send for Lady Elise.”

He started a bit at that, his eyebrows furrowing. “Why would we do that?”

“Well.” She fluttered her hand. “So she can be on hand.” He stared at her blankly, prompting her to elaborate further. “In case you are overcome and find yourself in need . . .” Her voice faded and mortifying heat swept up her face.

Now he was staring at her as though she were the mad one.

“I cannot compromise Lady Elise, even were she willing, which is doubtful.”

The heat increased in her face. She felt foolish now.

Of course Lady Elise would not dally outside the bounds of matrimony. She was a lady through and through. Not to mention that dragon of an aunt probably never even let her out of her sight.

He continued, “If it does affect me as you fear, I shall simply endure it until it fades.”

Simply endure it? She eyed him skeptically, recalling her sister writhing on the bed, desperate for satisfaction, for release.

“Don’t look so skeptical, Miss Langley.”

She nodded, looking down again at the small bronze vial in her palm. A breath shuddered through her. She felt as though she toed the brink of a great precipice. She was about to go right over the edge and she didn’t know what waited at the bottom of the other side. “You are determined to do this.”

“I am.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “Very well. Let’s fetch a spoon.”

Two hours later, Nora knocked briskly, as loud as she dared, on his bedchamber door. She had not seen or heard a peep from him since he took the tonic. She had to reassure herself he was well.

Sending a quick glance left and right down the empty corridor, she bit her lip in consternation. Here she stood yet again, braving scandal to have a word with Sinclair.

She grew only more concerned as the minutes ticked past and she stood hovering before his door, shifting impatiently on her feet.

She knocked again, slightly louder, slightly more insistent. “Mr. Sinclair?”

It was strange addressing him so formally as she had just administered an aphrodisiac to him. That seemed the kind of thing that people on a first name basis would do.

“Are you . . . well?” she asked in hushed tones, unsure what to ask of him precisely. Are you overcome from arousal and wishing for death to end the torment?

Something clattered inside the room followed by a muffled groan.