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“You’re not like most other chits, Miss Roth. You have a brain in your head. I see the intelligence in your eyes.”

She lifted her pink rose chintz cup from its saucer, her faded blue eyes twinkling over the rim.

“You remind me of me when I was your age, Miss Roth.”

That took Faith by surprise. “I do?”

“Indeed. A woman who knows her own mind, isn’t afraid of a challenge, and possesses gumption and fortitude that others often find off-putting.”

Yes, that did sound very much like Faith.

The dame settled back into the twin to Faith’s armchair. Mrs. Peagilly might not be in the first sprig of youth, but her gaze and mind were sharp, and she moved with surprising agility and vigor for a woman her age.

“Charlotte, the sweet dear, apprised me of the truth regarding you and Lord Constantine.” She chuckled, not the least abashed. “I might’ve prodded a bit—very well, a lot. I have a nose for such things.” She touched her reedy nose. “I sensed something wasn’t quite as it should be between you and Lord Constantine.”

“Oh.”

What did Faith say to that?

Her initial doubts that she and Lord Constantine could portray a loving couple had proved spot on. How many others had deduced the truth as well? A man who disliked her as much as he did would be hard put not to reveal his real feelings, despite his superb acting abilities.

The kiss sure seemed authentic, the opportunistic bounder.

And did she put up any resistance?

No.

She’d participated like a Covent Garden harlot.

Another wave of chagrin heated her cheeks.

Did this dear lady think less of Faith because of her part in the debacle?

Faith set her cup aside. “I only agreed to the ruse because I didn’t want Lady Charlotte’s wedding ruined.”

And because Faith loathed gossip.

“Very commendable of you.” Cocking her silvery head in a manner that reminded Faith of the curious sparrow that perched on the windowsill of her rented room, Mrs. Peagilly said, “I’m a good listener, Miss Roth. Of more importance, I don’t bear tales or divulge confidences.”