Constance smiled at the use of her nickname. “I told you your nervousness didn’t bother me.” But she bit her lip to keep her anxiety under control. “Do you know I pity your brother’s intended? He can truly be terrifying when he’s displeased. I almost felt sorry for Medley.”

“Medley doesn’t deserve your pity. My brother is nothing but hot air. Though I agree with you—Jack’s wife will have a hard time keeping him happy.”

“That she will.” Constance shuddered. “Would you like some tea?”

“I have already requested tea,” Ettington replied, strolling into the room as if nothing unpleasant had occurred a few minutes earlier.

Given the rate her heart was beating, Constance could not understand how the man could appear so placid. Perhaps, beneath that elegantly expensive exterior, he was a hard soul who gave no thought to the distress of the lower classes as her friend, Cullen Brampton, claimed. Cullen thought the marquess an insufferable prig.

She did her best to give the appearance of looking at Ettington, but avoided meeting his gaze. Although his familiar arrogance irritated, being at complete odds with her friend’s fragile state, she had no wish to resume their old feud in front of Virginia.

Virginia’s smile returned. “Thank you, Jack. We would like tea very much.”

When Ettington sat beside the box of unpaid bills, Constance’s heartbeat sped up. She had left the overall figure refolded on the cushion, but the final bill for her past man-of-business’s services was face-up for him to view.

Ettington glanced to the side, appeared to read the amount, and then turned a bland face their way. “So how was your morning?”

Virginia answered promptly and the marquess soon had her chatting about their conversations as if it were the height of entertainment. Constance gritted her teeth. Ettington had a knack for managing his sister’s mood, but if he ever treated Constance as such a brainless ninny, she would dump the contents of the teapot on him.

“The tea is taking too long, sister, could you hurry the servants along? I really am very parched.”

Like a marionette at a traveling play, Virginia hurried off to do his bidding. When his sister was out of sight and earshot, Ettington stared hard at Constance. She met his intense, blue gaze nervously.

“I apologize for my sister’s response to your plight,” he told her in a low voice. “She doesn’t handle confrontations well.”

“Your sister cannot help but react as she does. She is trying.”

Ettington’s weary sigh rattled though the room. “You mean unlike me? Did I step on your toes again, Miss Grange? Should I have allowed that overpaid oaf to insult a woman under my own roof?”

Her heart thumped. “What do you mean overpaid?”

Ettington unfolded the paper and ran his finger over the scrawled figures. “His bill holds some inaccuracies that he should be taken to task over. I do hope he hasn’t cheated you of more than just this one amount. He has either done it in a very clever fashion, or it is an excellent example of incompetence.”

Constance leapt up and snatched the note from his fingers. “I will go over them all myself.”

“There are a great many papers in that box,” he remarked.

Did he think her first glance hadn’t terrified her enough?

She didn’t care for his interest, so she grabbed up the box and moved it away. “Then I may ask Virginia to assist me. I’m sure that between the two of us we can ferret out any further inaccuracies.”

Ettington’s deep, rumbling laugh chilled her, but she’d not let him cower her. She glared at him until he stopped.

He wiped his eyes. “Surely you’re not too young to remember the last time Virginia tried to fathom the exact distance between your home to ours. It took her a week and, judging by the headache I acquired as a result, I fear she will not volunteer to tally sums again.”

“Oh, what a terrible thing to say about your twin. I doubt you suffered.”

“My sister has many talents, but mathematics is not one of them. She outshines me in many other, far more important arenas. One of them includes having an acknowledged, warm heart.”

Constance fidgeted. Secretly she thought his nickname, the Cold-Hearted Marquess, well deserved. But hearing him joke about being cold

-hearted, and challenging her to deny it, made her extremely uncomfortable. “One of them includes having the tact to stay out of other people’s affairs.”

Ettington leaned close. “My, my, have your affairs become interesting?” He held her gaze. “What has changed?”

Constance bit her lip. She had not informed her friends of her recent attachment. Not that the decision should interest Ettington one way or the other. But she’d held her tongue to avoid upsetting Virginia when her health remained delicate.

Unfortunately, Constance had never been a proficient liar, and was unusually unsuccessful with Ettington. The marquess would hound her until she confessed. It would be best to get the discussion over and done with. “I am engaged to be married.”

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