Page 34 of Never a Proper Lady

“Where are your spectacles?” Constantine asked beneath his breath. “Are you able to see without them?”

“In my chamber, and yes, I can manage well enough.”

More than well enough, truth be told.

Constantine bestowed a disarming, almost roguish, smile upon her and, with another gentle squeeze to her fingers, turned to answer the question boisterous Lady Baumgartner had put to him.

Faith stared at his aristocratic profile for a heartbeat.

Since when did Lord Constantine Kellinggrave practice flirtation?

“What an unexpected surprise, Miss Roth. Neither you nor Cousin Constantine hinted that you were affianced when I came upon you in the corridor.”

Botheration.

She recognized that condescending voice.

Because we weren’t.

Faith directed her attention to the gentleman on her left.

Martin Kellinggrave.

Would that the duchess had seated him elsewhere. The stable, for instance. Faith’s nerves were already on edge. Dining with this boor beside her all night would stretch her etiquette to the farthest extreme.

He regarded her coolly, inquisitiveness in his unremarkable brown eyes. He clearly believed she owed him an explanation.

She hadn’t liked him the first time they met, and the penetrating way he stared at her now made her all the warier of the man, Kellinggrave cousin or not.

“We didn’t want to detract from Lady Charlotte’s big moment,” she said, leaving it at that.

Another clever fabrication of the duchess’s to explain the secrecy surrounding Faith and Constantine’s unofficial betrothal.

Hoping he’d take the obvious clue that she would rather eat the white soup than converse, she picked up her spoon. She wouldn’t rather eat. Her stomach hadn’t stopped cartwheeling since she walked into the drawing room and saw Constantine.

Unaccustomed to seeing him togged out in evening finery, she hadn’t recognized him for an instant. She’d gazed past him, only to have her attention jerked back to the handsome man staring at her with an expression between flabbergasted and puzzled.

Apparently, he’d been as surprised at her transformation as she was at his.

Constantine had quite literally taken her breath away. His valet had even managed to tame his unruly blond locks, and he presented the epitome of masculine beauty.

Why hadn’t she noticed his handsomeness before?

Well, she usually had her spectacles on when near him, and they distorted her vision. She didn’t need her eyesight corrected but believed the lenses made her appear older and more professional. Little did her employer know Faith slipped them on as she entered the house for work each morning, and she’d become quite good at looking above the lenses while she worked.

“A marriage and a betrothal for this branch of the Kellinggraves. The duke and duchess must be utterly delighted.” The look Martin Kellinggrave leveled their graces, first the duke and then the duchess, wasn’t altogether congratulatory.

“I’m sure.” What else was Faith to say? “How are you related to Constantine?”

Better to change the subject.

Taking a spoonful of flavorful soup, she glanced toward the head of the table.

Eyes slightly narrowed, the Duke of Landrith regarded Martin Kellinggrave, his expression grave.

Hmm, something more than met the eye went on here.

“Constantine didn’t tell you? How remiss of him, as we are soon to be family.” Martin Kellinggrave arranged his features into exaggerated puzzlement. “We are cousins. Our fathers are twins. My sisters and father arrive tomorrow.”