Page 78 of Never a Proper Lady

I’ve eloped to Gretna Green with Martin Kellinggrave. Don’t try to stop me, for I’ve already been compromised and may well carry his child. Mama and Papa think he is a fortune hunter, but I know Martin loves me. No man can be as solicitous and tender as he if he didn’t truly love me.

I shall contact you when I return from my honeymoon. Forgive me for putting the burden of telling our parents on your shoulders. I know they will take it better coming from you.

~Miss Adelle Breadalbane, in a short note to her sister, Miss Amelia Breadalbane

Dovetonwick Court ballroom

Ten minutes later

Taking a swift glance around the ballroom, Constantine braced himself for a glimpse of Faith. His initial perusal revealed she hadn’t come down yet. His mother caught his eye, and with an almost imperceptible nudge of her chin and flare of her eyes, she called him to her side.

Harvey had succumbed to his love for the enchanting Aurelie Allemand and had hightailed it for London last night. Berkham had delivered the short note to Constantine when he’d returned to the house this morning.

As Constantine wended his way through the milling guests—at least a hundred more had arrived for the Landriths’ ostentatious ball—he smiled and acted the congenial gentleman.

Everyone believed Constantine was the austere, logical, serious brother by choice or perhaps by God-given design.

Nothing could be farther from the truth.

Leopold, the heir, was the golden child—talented at everything from shooting to singing, responsible, loyal, and reliable. Cedric, the spare, was carefree, adventuresome, daring, and the jester of the family. That left Constantine to fill the only available slot: the practical, intelligent, religious, boring brother.

Except he learned he wasn’t cut out for the cloth, mainly because he couldn’t bear the hypocrisy of not only those who filled the pews each Sunday but those in church leadership who exploited their power and position. Nor could he abide the female parishioners who hinted they wouldn’t be opposed to unholy assignations with him.

Not every man of God was dishonest, compromised, or a counterfeit. Wilfred Howerton was as sincere a vicar as Constantine had ever met—decent down to the marrow in his bones.

Simply put, Constantine’s temperament had rendered him unfit for religious service.

He liked adventures too, his musical talents were on par with Leo’s, and he possessed a playful nature to rival Cedric’s, if anyone had cared to notice.

“Mother. You look exceptionally lovely this evening.”

He kissed her cheek, and she looped her arm in his and led him to a quiet corner. Not that two hundred animated guests, a five-piece stringed orchestra, and a score of attentive servants scurrying hither and yon permitted any genuine quiet space in the ballroom.

“I’m worried about you, Constantine.” Mother put her palm to his cheek. “You care for that girl.”

No need to ask what girl she referred to.

“More, I think, than you’ve even admitted to yourself, son.”

Gazing out over the merry-makers, he marshaled a rueful smile.

“I asked her to marry me today.” More fool he. “Even got down on one knee.”

The last emerged far more cryptic and sardonic than he’d intended.

“You did?” Surprise rounded her eyes before they narrowed with keen comprehension.

Leave it to Mother to discern there was more to the story.

“But…?”

Linking his hands behind him, Constantine rocked back on his heels and pointed his gaze to the ornate plasterwork, crown molding, and cornices gracing the ceiling.

“I botched it rather badly.” He winced at the memory. “I suggested a marriage of convenience would solve our problems.”

“Oh, darling. Please say you didn’t.” He heard the grimace in her voice as she placed her hand on his shoulder in a gesture meant to comfort.

He didn’t deserve comfort, however.