Page 9 of Never a Proper Lady

Everything about the house bespoke sophistication, wealth, and extravagance.

Faith had been educated and trained how to conduct herself in all circumstances. Nonetheless, she swallowed as she eyed the regal structure with its dozens of windows gleaming in the afternoon sun. If the ostentatious mansion contained fewer than two hundred rooms, she’d forgive Lord Constantine for putting her through the past three days of torture.

For the first time in a long while, uncertainty tapped at her conscience.

What kind of reception could she expect?

Well, there was nothing for it.

Faith was here because her employer—obstinate, privileged bounder—demanded she be. As an employee, she’d not be obligated to participate in house party activities, and she wouldn’t be scrambling to accommodate the elite guests because she wasn’t a household servant.

Why, she might even find time to catch up on her correspondence and read the novel by Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey, that she’d impulsively purchased that day at Hatchard’s.

Not waiting for the coachman to open the door, Lord Constantine alighted. Mr. Camberg-Trainer followed, and he turned to assist Faith from the conveyance.

Gilly jumped down and promptly found a bush to relieve himself upon. Then with an exuberant bark, he dashed toward the stables. He obviously knew his way about the estate.

Having the oddest sensation that someone watched her, Faith scanned the closest windows. There, a curtain fluttered at a window above them. Most likely, a relative was excited that his lordship was home.

Lord Constantine turned to her, a furrow above the bridge of his nose.

“Miss Roth, I would be amiss if I…”

He paused, uncertainty and hesitation whisking across his sculpted features.

How peculiar.

Still feeling like ponies performed cartwheels in her stomach, Faith met his gaze. Something akin to worry or concern shadowed his verdant gaze under those sometimes-intimidating hawkish sandy eyebrows.

“My lord?”

The door swung open, revealing the majordomo. Eyes alight with merriment, the butler’s wrinkled face crumpled into a smile.

“Welcome home, my lord.”

“Thank you, Berkham. It’s good to be here.”

Three footmen in blue and gold livery descended the steps and set to unloading the luggage.

“Constantine! You’re finally home!”

A pretty young blonde wearing a sunny jonquil gown trimmed in Pomona green ribbon and white lace sprinted down the stairs and threw her arms around him.

Likely the window watcher.

Expression amiable—almost doting—the butler looked on in approval from his position at the top of the stairs.

Chuckling, Lord Constantine lifted the girl as if she weighed no more than a kitten and twirled her around before setting her on the ground.

This must be his lordship’s youngest sister. On the journey to Dovetonwick Court, he’d explained that her addition to the family when he was thirteen had come as quite a surprise. She’d displaced him as the baby of the family, for which he claimed he was heartily grateful.

“Edie.” He gave her a playful wink. “I vow you’ve grown into a rare beauty.”

“Pshaw. What flim-flam.” Cheeks flushed, she grinned up at him. “You saw me not more than three months ago, Con.”

Faith glanced at the house and puzzled her brow upon noticing sky-blue skirts in the opening behind the butler.

Another family member?