Page 22 of Never a Proper Lady

“There is another factor none of you has considered.” Faith matched the subdued tenor of her voice to his.

“And that is?” Constantine was positive he, Father, and Mother had gone over every possible scenario.

“A woman eavesdropped at the entrance after we arrived yesterday and may have heard you introduce me as your amanuensis.”

Bollocks.

Constantine jerked his head up. “What woman?”

Faith lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I saw her blue skirts behind the butler. I think perhaps she realized I’d spied her, and she left.”

The footman and butler had heard him as well, but their loyalty to the duke and duchess was unquestionable.

“We need to make our way to my mother’s private salon. She’ll need to be aware of this detail before she puts her plan into play.”

If she hadn’t already.

“You mean her falsehood?” Fire sparked in Faith’s accusing gaze.

Constantine sighed. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s not just about us. Charlotte’s wedding is in a couple of days. I don’t want her special day shadowed by scandal, even if it is fabricated. Edyth hasn’t had her Come Out yet. As ludicrous and unfair as it is, something of this nature could taint her launch into Society.”

Faith stared at the wall for several heartbeats, then met his gaze.

“Very well. We shall speak to the duchess. I’m not sure what good it will do at this juncture. Lies and deceit always weave a web, and sooner or later, one becomes tangled in them. Straightforwardness and candor have always served me well.”

Constantine barely kept his eyebrows from soaring to his hairline.

“Yes.” Constantine half-choked, half coughed. “With a goodly measure of diplomacy, naturally.”

“Naturally.”

Footsteps muffled on the lush carpet, Faith started forward. As she walked, she turned her head from side to side, examining the eclectic assortment of gilded framed paintings adorning the walls above the gleaming cherrywood wainscotting. Everything from portraits, still lifes, and landscapes festooned the corridor.

Constantine caught up to her and touched her elbow.

“Thank you, Faith.”

She slid him an inquisitive look before returning her attention to the artwork.

“I’m not an ogre, my lord. I understand the implications and repercussions.”

“If we encounter anyone, just nod and smile,” he cautioned.

She rolled her eyes ceilingward, and Constantine chuckled.

There was the Faith he knew so well. The Faith that used to irritate the blazes out of him, but now… Now he rather appreciated her lack of artifice.

They managed to make it to Mother’s salon and only encountered a pair of maids carrying bed linens, a footman bearing a breakfast tray, and Miss Wright fetching a shawl for her mother.

His forefinger knuckle bent, Constantine rapped on the door.

“It’s me, Mother. Miss Roth is with me.”

“Come in, dear.”

He pressed the latch and stepped aside for Faith to enter first. Without hesitation, she swept forward. For the first time, he acknowledged that he admired her intrepidness and boldness. Meeting a duchess could be intimidating, but Faith faced it with her usual unflinching bravado.

Mother sat in her favorite armchair, a breakfast tray on the rosewood tea table before her and an assortment of correspondence on the matching table to her left. Smiling, she removed her pince-nez and set them aside.