He could not, though. No one could.
Elara had not said a single word since they left the track. Not even as they collected William. Not even as Constantine had attempted to ask her what the matter was. All he could manage from her was the shake of her head for every question he asked. Even William, who cooed and looked up at her from her lap with his sweet, wide eyes and rosy cheeks, could not pull a smile to her lips.
Then, when they had arrived at her cousin Caroline’s, she had simply handed Constantine the baby and left the carriagewithout a word, even going so far as to ignore his question as to when she would be home. He could take her silence if it was out of anger. He could take her yelling and catty responses as well. But this downtrodden silence? This hours-long absence? It was driving him insane.
He then thought about the urges he had felt earlier that day. Then, about their wedding night. A groan of frustration escaped his throat as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. It had been incredibly hard in the moment to walk away from such an invitation, but after today, after feeling the attraction for her when he watched that bead of sweat slip between her breasts, he downright wanted to kick himself for refusing. It was not just fighting with her that he missed; he missed being close to her.
Such a revelation only further ruined his mood, and he began to pace more quickly.
Stop this,he scolded himself.This is not our agreement. I barely like her, and I certainly do not miss her.
“Perhaps if you pause your pacing and eat, dinner time would pass more quickly for you, Your Grace?” James suggested, pulling Constantine from his thoughts.
“No,” Constantine quickly answered. “I am not hungry. I do not want to eat. I want to know where my wife is.”
Realizing what he had just called Elara, Constantine froze. That was thrice now that he had referred to her as such in a serious manner. Beforehand, he had only used the title to annoy Elara. Now, though…
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. York sighed as she entered the room. Constantine looked up to see the housekeeper, looking at him with an arched brow and her arms crossed. “Do you plan to weara trench into the rug, Your Grace? I might remind you that it was quite expensive, and would be just as expensive to replace.”
“Have you grown too familiar, Mrs. York?” Constantine retorted, resuming his pacing. “You must have if you enter my rooms without knocking now.”
Mrs. York showed no concern about his words or tone; instead, she boldly shrugged her shoulders.
“Your door was open, Your Grace. I had assumed that it was an open invitation for anyone who needed to speak with you to come in,” she replied.
It was not at all an open invitation, but a way to see into the corridor in case Constantine heard Elara’s footsteps. However, he was not going to tell Mrs. York that.
“The cook worked very hard on your dinner this evening, Your Grace,” Mrs. York went on. “It would be a shame if you were to allow it to spoil.”
“I do not care about food at this moment, Mrs. York. I am more concerned for my...” he stopped himself, realizing that he was about to call Elara his wife again. “I am concerned for the Duchess. She has yet to come home from her visit with her cousin. Nightfall is quickly approaching, and I do not wish for her to traverse home in the dark.”
“My, Your Grace,” Mrs. York admonished. “I had no idea you cared so for Her Grace.”
“Do not put words in my mouth, Mrs. York,” Constantine warned, holding a warning finger in her direction. “It is not care butconcern. Any proper gentleman would be concerned about a young lady traveling alone at night. It is a most dangerous time.”
“Even in the streets of Mayfair, Your Grace?” Mrs. York asked. “Where every house has guards and eyes are everywhere?”
Constantine scoffed.
“You speak as if that makes a difference. Was it not just three years ago some scoundrel broke into the Baron of Hawthorne’s home and stole many precious paintings?”
Mrs. York half-laughed, half coughed.
“I believe, Your Grace, that Lord Hawthorne was found to have staged that burglary, to try to avoid debtors from coming in and collecting them in lieu of the money he owed. Do you not remember? It was the talk of Mayfair for quite some time.”
Constantine stopped his pacing, more annoyed than ever.
“I am not in the mood for gossip, Mrs. York,” he snapped.
“Indeed not,” Mrs. York quickly replied, eyeing him up and down. “In fact, you seem quite unsettled. Are you sure you are not affected by the lovely woman you so vehemently claim you donothave feelings for? It is quite all right to admit it, Your Grace. She is quite the beauty, and her manner is very kind.”
Constantine glowered at her.
“Do not be ridiculous, Mrs. York,” he gritted out. “I hold no affections for Her Grace whatsoever. Not that it is any of your business, but she and I have an understanding. Ours isnota love match.”
“Ah,” Mrs. York scoffed, putting her hands behind her back. “That is a relief, then.”
Constantine raised a wary brow, his patience completely gone.
