Page 23
“To what do I owe this pleasure so early in the day?”
Likely, she knew perfectly well his and Faith’s presence was on account of the taradiddle the family was supposed to spread about with the ease of butter on toast.
Faith bent into a perfectly executed curtsy as he shut the door behind him.
“Your Grace.”
After a perfunctory peck on the scented and powdered cheek his mother presented, Constantine said, “Mother, may I introduce Miss Faith Roth? Miss Roth, Her Grace, Mabel Kellinggrave, the Duchess of Landrith.”
Adjusting the embroidered coral Spitalfield’s shawl about her shoulders, Mother tipped her mouth into a conciliatory smile.
“Miss Roth, I presume my son has explained the delicate situation to you?”
Faith nodded, pulled back to the conversation from her perusal of the salon decorated in shades of yellow and gold, and filled with French giltwood Aubusson tapestry furnishings.
“He has, Your Grace.”
“Ah, nonetheless, I sense a but.” Mother’s most skeptical eyebrow rose as her keen gaze swept to Constantine and then back to Faith.
“We have a complication, Mother. Miss Roth observed a woman eavesdropping on us when we arrived yesterday. She may know Miss Roth is my employee, in which case, we cannot claim she is a distant cousin.”
“Brazenly eavesdropping?” Eyes narrowing, Mother tapped her manicured fingertips against her thigh.
“Yes, ma’am. For several minutes.”
Hands folded at her waist, Faith arranged her features into a serene mien.
“Either Adelle Breadalbane or Ida Looram, I’ll wager,” Mother said. “Both are immature nincompoops and despicable gossips who would sooner bear a false tale than tell the truth. They are only here because their sisters are Charlotte’s bridesmaids. Other than Miss Breadalbane’s substantial fortune from her maternal grandmother, neither has anything to recommend them.”
Mother turned her full attention on Faith. To Faith’s credit, she didn’t lower her eyes or blush.
“When did you notice her spying on you, Miss Roth?”
Faith closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, they were clear and focused.
“It was just before Lord Constantine told Lady Edyth I was his amanuensis.”
“Hmm.” One finger to her chin, Mother focused on the opposite wall.
Constantine knew that expression. She was plotting something again.
Mother never was one to accept defeat. She would’ve made a splendid general.
“I have it!” Her smile was positively jubilant.
Faith gave a little start and exchanged a disconcerted glance with him.
“Amanuensis. Affianced,” she said proudly.
Good God. She wasn’t suggesting…?
No! Positively no.
