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interruption ranked the highest. Why couldn’t the Marquess of Ettington still be busy elsewhere? Today wasn’t a good day for him to interrupt a private conversation when he had done his best to be unavailable for civilized discussion during the past week.
    Constance didn’t dare look at her former guardian, so she opened the last of the papers before her. True to his word, Mr. Medley was breaking his connection with her family. His harsh wording brought tears to her eyes. Constance dropped the note as if it burned.
    She drew in a shaky breath, tasting cinnamon on the air. When a long-fingered hand crossed her line of vision and picked up that derogatory note, panic threatened. But at least here was one man to whom her family was not indebted. They were free of the marquess’s interference in their lives. There was a long pause as the marquess read the note, and then the harsh sound of parchment being torn into pieces.
    “Get out, and do not show your face again,” Ettington demanded. “You will get your funds soon enough, but if I hear slander of the Granges’ reputations, I will personally see to it that no one will employ you again. Is that understood?”
    Constance experienced a moment of divine pleasure when the fish-skinned bully looked ready to cast up his accounts. The whole world knew to fear the cold-hearted marquess’s displeasure.
    “Yes, my lord.” Medley fled.
    The fair-haired marquess advanced and, once Medley was beyond the drawing room doors, turned to the hearth to consign the rudely penned note to the flames.
    As firelight reflected off the large, diamond cravat pin Ettington always wore, Constance struggled to control her envy. Lack of money was a problem Jack Overton, Marquess of Ettington, would never have. He could easily afford the expensively tailored coat and breeches that defined his lean form. And if memory served, he’d commissioned yet another carriage he couldn’t possibly need just this last week. The absurdly handsome man, blessed with more wealth than Constance could comprehend, paused before the fire. He watched the paper burn with one booted foot perched on the hearth, and then he sauntered out the door. Was he born knowing exactly how to draw attention or had someone taught him?
    As Constance drew in a full breath, she realized that the duke’s twin sister Virginia, Lady Orkney, had said nothing during the exchange. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks with heat, and she turned to find Virginia white-faced and shaking. Concerned, she set aside her problems. Virginia ’s nerves were never very sturdy on the best of days. The display of aggression from the men appeared to have frightened her considerably. Constance crossed the room and grasped Virginia ’s hands to rub some warmth back into them. The pale beauty’s breathing slowed, but then a great shudder jerked her hands from Constance ’s grip.
    “I’m sorry. I overreacted again, didn’t I, Pixie?”
    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