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“Indeed. Content as a kitten.” Mrs. Peagilly rose and waited for Faith to do the same. “It was only four feet long. A wee little thing, actually. I was in no real danger.”

“Four feet?” Charlotte croaked.

“The largest I’ve seen was eighteen feet,” Mrs. Peagilly said with the calmness of a woman speaking about a favorite dainty at tea or a knitting pattern.

“Oh, my word.” Mother looked rather ill.

Mrs. Peagilly leveled her inscrutable gaze upon Constantine. “You may rest assured. Miss Roth’s safety will not be compromised while in my company.”

Was she implying Miss Roth had been compromised in other ways while in Constantine’s company?

Just what had Faith told the perceptive old bird?

“As it’s been a rather, ah, eventful evening, I’ll bid you good night.” Faith stood, displaying the innate grace he’d taken for granted these many weeks. Along with her voluptuous, plump lips, the porcelain slope of her cheeks, and melted chocolate eyes that made a man imagine all sorts of things he shouldn’t.

“Faith, a word?” Constantine asked, softening what sounded more like a command with, “Please?”

He didn’t give a tinker’s oath if he sounded desperate or if his highly amused brothers grinned like pished baboons. Or that his mother considered him with an unnerving mélange of calculation, discernment, and astonishment.

Did Father conceal a ghost of a smile behind his hand?

There was nothing for it.

Constantine’s gut told him that if he didn’t seize the moment, Faith would be lost to him. His well-organized, predictable world was unraveling at an alarming rate, and he had no more ability to temper the chaos than a leaf slipping over a waterfall.

Her expression solemn and sad—so sad, it sliced Constantine to the marrow, and he felt the blood gushing from him—Faith skimmed her turbulent brown eyes, framed by trembling lashes, over his face.

What did she seek?

He’d far rather she bristled with indignation. Raised a breeze and called him a knave, a curt beast, an inconsiderate tosspot. Shred him with her rapier tongue.

She shook her head, forlornness having replaced her feisty spirit.

“No. Neither of us wishes to say anything further to wound the other. Sometimes the best course is silence. It’s wiser and kinder.”

And with that, she tucked her hand into the bend of Mrs. Peagilly’s thin arm and escorted the dame from the drawing room.

Everything around Constantine faded into a haze.

His focus remained trained on Faith as she walked away. If he felt this desolate when she simply left the room, how would he survive when she walked out of his life in three days?

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Nothing.