Page 39 of Never a Proper Lady

I probably shouldn’t put this to pen, lest someone find out, but who would open my correspondences? Through no fault of my own, I’m in the most impossible position. I shan’t go into all the details on paper, but dire circumstances have forced Lord Constantine Kellinggrave and me to pretend to be betrothed until the house party for his sister’s wedding is over.

This might be the ruin of me and my career as a scrivener. Then what shall I do?

I fear teaching is beyond my scope of patience, although I might manage as a companion.

~Miss Faith Roth, in a letter to Mrs. Purity Mayfield

Penned while waiting in Lady Edyth’s bedchamber

Dovetonwick Court gardens

“Are you certain we should be out here, Constantine?”

Even though society deemed it perfectly acceptable for an affianced couple to take a turn about the gardens unchaperoned, Faith couldn’t help but feel scandalous. Because she knew the truth and that those facts were scandal worthy.

“I’m not certain of anything, Faith, but we both needed a reprieve. The gardens and grounds are the only places we’ll find a bit of tranquility.”

Constantine guided them to the garden’s farthest side along a winding gravel path with practiced ease. Edged in fragrant purple and pink hydrangeas with rows of vibrant lilies in shades she’d never seen before nestled amongst various shades of pink phlox in front, the color scheme was breathtaking.

She’d always been partial to pink, though, with her hair, she avoided wearing the color.

Stopping, Faith bent to sniff a lily, taking care not to get the yellow pollen on her nose.

“Isn’t it late in the season for them to be blooming?” She gestured to the bed before which they stood, then glanced around them. Numerous plants were still pregnant with buds and blooms. “Most gardens have faded by now.”

Leaning a shoulder against a flowering plum tree, Constantine crossed his arms, causing the fabric to stretch taut. Not that Faith made a point of noticing such details about her employer, but really.

How could she not notice?

She had eyes.

“Mother’s head gardener is a genius at coaxing a few more blossoms from plants. He says it’s the fish he works in around the roots.”

Constantine gave her a lazy grin, and the oddest thing happened to Faith’s knees.

The silly appendages unexpectedly went jelly-like for a heartbeat or two.

Since when did she, Faith Stephanie Hannah Shephard Roth, who had no more notion of how to flirt, bat her eyelashes, or behave coyly, react like an empty-headed, giggling debutante when a handsome man smiled at her?

Indeed not.

She stiffened her legs, locking her knees.

There.

No more nonsense.

Weak knees, indeed.

Not for sensible, independent women who must make their own way in the world.

A fat bumblebee lazily bobbed past, first inspecting a pink and white lily before floating to a purplish-pink phlox. One last sip of nectar before returning to its hive for the night.

“It’s here, amongst these plants, flowers, and trees, where I first became enamored with insects,” Constantine said. “Particularly butterflies, and also dragonflies and sometimes even damselflies, though the latter two prefer the area by the pond, east of the mansion.”

Faith scrunched her nose as she watched the bumblebee fly away. “I thought dragonflies were the males and damselflies the females.”

“No, though they are of the same species, Odonata.”