Page 61 of Never a Proper Lady

It is astonishing how one’s life can take a dramatic turn in one day, even an hour, or a few minutes. While at the Duke and Duchess of Landrith’s house party to which I was compelled to attend by my employer, I’ve resigned my position as amanuensis to Lord Constantine Kellinggrave and have accepted a position as a traveling companion to Mrs. Eustasia Peagilly. I shall explain all when I see you at your soirée if opportunity and time allow. I’m reluctant to put the details to pen.

I sail for the Mediterranean in October and do not know when I shall return to England.

I have also decided to never wed—matrimony was never at the top of my list of things to accomplish in any event. Men are incorrigible, unscrupulous, self-centered beasts.

~Miss Faith Roth, in a letter accepting Mrs. Joy Morrisette’s invitation

Early the next morning

Having spent a sleepless night, first staring at the canopy above Lady Edyth’s luxurious bed and then at the crack between the draperies for two hours before dawn’s subtle hues crept over the horizon, Faith slipped her feet into her half-boots as she sat on a tufted gold bench in one of the upper corridors.

The early morning sounds of a house awakening filtered to her as she laced her boots, then donned the Pomona green spencer. Conversations between servants drifted into corridors as doors opened and closed, swift footsteps echoed along passageways, and cows lowed in the distance as a rooster exuberantly greeted the sunrise.

Normally an early riser, she didn’t share his enthusiasm today.

Not with an ache niggling behind her left eye and a head that felt stuffed with wet wool from lack of sleep, stifling sighs so she wouldn’t disturb Lady Edyth’s slumber, and no small amount of fretting over her future too. And, if she were wholly honest—which she tried to be even if facing the truth was uncomfortable—a weird, undefinable grief and a penetrating sense of failure.

She’d arisen fifteen minutes ago and, with stealth that would’ve done a seasoned agent of the Crown justice, had washed, dressed in a plain jonquil day dress, wound her waist-length hair into a simple chignon, and tiptoed from the bedchamber with shoes, spencer, and hat in hand while Lady Edyth slept on.

All through the night, an urgency had been building inside Faith to escape the house.

Oh, not to flee like a vagrant caught stealing a silver candlestick, but to put distance between her and Constantine. Knowing he slept beneath the same roof was too…intimate.

Outside the mansion, she could breathe in the fresh morning air and sort her tumultuous thoughts. Her emotions had undergone so many ups and downs in the past four and twenty hours than if they had been a coach ride, she’d have cast up her accounts a dozen times.

As the grand ball was tonight, the rest of the day was certain to be an unbearable strain. The duchess had Nita remaking one of Lady Charlotte’s gowns, and the final fitting was to be mid-morning. Last night, amid rapturous sighs and excited giggles, hot chocolate and shortbread, Lady Edyth had exclaimed that the entire afternoon would be spent preparing for the ball.

For heaven’s sake.

An entire afternoon?

What could possibly take so blasted long?

Faith meant to keep her word, nevertheless. She’d attend the ball, perhaps even dance and pretend she was having a brilliant time. She intended to avoid Constantine the entire while, and when she could not evade him, she’d treat him with cool formality. Her resolve to put him out of her life might waver if she regarded him with anything other than icy disdain.

After descending two flights of stairs, she paused, swinging her bonnet by its saffron-colored ribbons.

Where was the kitchen?

Faith hoped to cajole the cook out of an apple, a scone, or a piece of bread and cheese to enjoy on her outing. She wasn’t picky, but she was famished. She’d barely touched dinner, and Faith enjoyed her meals without apologizing for her robust appetite.

Lady Edyth said ladies generally ate nothing during the day in preparation for the magnificent midnight supper.

Midnight?

By all that was holy, Faith wasn’t waiting until midnight to fill her belly.

A pretty maid bustled down the corridor. Head down and humming, she carried a stack of neatly folded towels. She released a little yelp when she glanced up and saw Faith.

“Forgive me, Miss. You startled me. Guests are rarely up this early.”

“I’m sorry.” Offering a repentant smile, Faith looped her bonnet over her arm. “I was looking for the kitchen. I want to take a walk and hoped I might convince the cook to permit me a little something for breakfast.”

A grin crinkling her face, the maid adjusted her load and then tilted her head in the direction she’d come.

“Follow this corridor past the last door on the right, then turn right. You’ll see a flight of stairs halfway down that passageway to your left. Take them, and they’ll lead you directly to the kitchen.”

“Thank you…”