Page 68 of Never a Proper Lady

Faith’s mind stalled, and her pulse capered along her veins like a frisky lamb.

“You are the most confounding yet captivating woman.”

For reasons she’d never understand, his lowly murmured words in that resonating baritone pleased her greatly, though she wasn’t positive they were meant as a compliment.

“Fine. Say what you will, my lord, and let’s be done with it then.”

She made certain to address him formally to keep distance between them.

Giving him another sideways look, she shook her head, then jiggled her finger at him for good measure.

He really must take her seriously.

“But know that you shan’t change my mind. I shall leave with Mrs. Peagilly andsail to the Mediterranean in October. I am set on it. My course cannot be changed.”

Even if it meant breaking her heart, for Faith had come to realize that Lord Constantine Kellinggrave was not a man a woman could be around day after day and remain immune to him. He was also not a man a woman could walk away from and not leave a part of her soul behind.

Faith’s intent was to leave as little as possible of her heart in his keeping when they permanently parted ways.

Too late.

Stupid, stupid, foolish girl for not guarding herself against the feelings that had been growing for weeks. When he’d been gruff, obtuse, and annoying, it had been easy to dismiss the sentiment unfurling in her heart.

But when he’d been kind and considerate, funny and playful… Well, her traitorous heart had unlocked and opened wide.

Now she was in a fine pickle, indeed.

“I can be very persuasive,” he all but purred.

Yes, that was precisely what Faith was afraid of.

Constantine winked again before beginning to whistle, quite exceptionally, in fact.

He whistled too?

What else didn’t she know about this man?

She’d wager as much as he didn’t know about her. And because their relationship ended in just a couple of short days, she wasn’t trying to find out anything more about him. She’d bear the scars of their acquaintance for the rest of her days as it was.

Instead, she touched his arm and, to divert him, asked, “Constantine, is Cook’s name really Primrose Pumilia Pippenger?”