Page 57 of Never a Proper Lady

Such has been the chaos at Dovetonwick since I arrived that I haven’t had an opportunity to continue my work. It’s not likely I’ll have the time either and shall have to postpone my plans until I return to London.

I’ve embroiled myself in a conundrum, the likes of which I could not have imagined. I am “betrothed” to Miss Faith Roth, my amanuensis, for the house party’s duration. Instead of conducting valuable research, I must act the gallant while posturing and pretending to be smitten.

Oddly, because I find parties tedious and as pleasant as carbuncles on my arse, I do not mind Faith’s company. In truth, I rather enjoy it. I never know what to expect from her, and I should detest that inconsistency. That I do not is wholly unnerving.

~Lord Constantine Kellinggrave, jotting in his private journal

Dovetonwick Court’s study

Three or four harrowing seconds later

There she sat composed and serene—and beautiful—looking for all the world like nothing had transpired to cut her to the quick.

Relief like he’d never known billowed over Constantine.

“I say,” Leopold grumbled, but when he peeked over Constantine’s shoulder, he said, “Oh, I see.”

Faith sat demurely before Father’s desk, Mrs. Peagilly in the chair beside her. A bemused Cedric lounged against the fireplace mantel, and with one hand on Father’s shoulder, Mother stood beside him, seated behind his ridiculously large desk.

Charlotte and Edyth looked on, concern and apprehension puzzling their foreheads.

Of Wilfred Howerton, there was no sign.

“I see our lost dove has returned to the flock.” Leopold had imbibed too freely. He started toward the liquor cabinet, but Father plucked the tumbler from his fingers.

“I think not, Leo.”

Cedric chuckled and folded his arm. “If I’d known how entertaining this visit would be, I’d have made certain to arrive earlier.”

“Cedric,” the duchess admonished with regal firmness. “This is not a humorous matter.”

“Actually, Mother, it is hilarious.” Leopold planted his bum on the arm of the couch. “Not for Miss Roth, of course. She’s an innocent victim.”

Concern radiated from the apologetic gaze he momentarily turned upon Faith before jollity lit the depths of his gaze as he regarded Constantine.

Constantine flared his eyebrows.

Cedric flicked his fingers toward him. “But to see our pragmatic, brooding brother squirming… I’d pay for the opportunity.”