Page 33 of Never a Proper Lady

At Lady Charlotte’s insistence—she really was a dear—Faith, too, wore a splendid fragrance at her wrists and behind her ears. Given the perfume’s crystal cobalt bottle, she had no doubt that the scent’s cost was quite dear.

Faith almost—almost—dared to believe she was as refined and elegant as her borrowed clothes and jewelry portrayed her.

She knew the truth, however.

As the old adage went, you cannot turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse.

It took more than an elegant coiffure, expensive perfume, pretty jewels, and a confection of a gown to transform one into a lady.

On the other hand, Constantine had made a brilliant transformation from an engrossed, slightly eccentric scientist to a regal lord. She fully expected he’d be recognized by the Royal Society of London for Improving Natural Knowledge at some juncture. He really was quite brilliant, but she’d taken care not to tell him that.

He was already impossible.

If he believed she admired him—purely professionally, of course—he’d be intolerable.

As if sensing he consumed Faith’s thoughts, Constantine leaned near and spoke into her ear. His warm breath caused a shiver to scuttle across her shoulders.

“You’re doing magnificently, Faith.”

Yes, because refraining from running screaming from a room was praiseworthy.

He squeezed her hand beneath the table’s cover, and she met his eyes. She found none of the typical impatience and mockery she’d become accustomed to.

What was he about?

No need to overplay the devoted swain. No one would believe the scientific-minded, I’d-rather-be-researching Lord Constantine Kellinggrave was suddenly waxing poetic.

Still, he had called her my love in the drawing room.

And he’d managed to sound quite authentic.

Edyth had grinned like a cat in the cream, and two other young ladies looked as if they’d eaten spoiled fish. Even the Duke and Duchess of Landrith had shared a speaking look. The kind that people who knew each other well and no words were necessary used.

In point of fact, the entire exchange had been disconcerting.

Tonight, a gleam shone in the enigmatic green depths of Constantine’s eyes that Faith could not discern. Her heart gave the queerest flutter in response, and the smile curving her mouth might’ve been a genuine reaction to the magnetism between them.

Unanticipated and perilous.

This was an act. Nothing more.

Faith would be a fool to consider it anything else.

To those assembled, his whispering in her ear would be regarded as a tender exchange and no doubt strengthen the perception of a couple in love.

Which was the plan. Of course, it was. Every look, every touch, every word was calculated to advance the agenda precisely outlined by the Duchess of Landrith.

Then why did something akin to disappointment settle upon Faith’s shoulders, shrouding her in discontentment? She, who had always wanted a career? Had determined to never be dependent upon a man who, on the slightest whim, might cast her aside.

Was that what happened to her mother?

Mrs. Shepherd confessed to knowing very little about Faith’s parentage.

A man brought her to the academy when she was scarcely more than a toddler, claiming she was an unwanted, illegitimate orphan. As Mrs. Shepherd had with all her wards, she’d given Faith a new name and identity to help ensure Faith’s future.

“I expect the initial shock of our betrothal will dissipate in a day or two,” he said, his face so near that she noticed the gold flecks in his eyes and the fine lines framing the corners for the first time. “Assuredly, Charlotte’s wedding will once again take center stage, and we’ll be forgotten.”

As unlikely as Faith discovering who her family was or why she’d been abandoned.