Page 65

Oh, bugger.

There was no need for Faith to look to know that every person in the room stared at her as she stood, frozen, one foot in the air like a deranged flamingo. Her chest deflated on a sigh as she reluctantly lowered her foot and, clutching the small bundle of food to her waist, slowly pivoted.

“I do not recall any such arrangement, my lord.”

Because there wasn’t one.

Regardless, Faith couldn’t very well call Constantine a liar in front of the help. It just wasn’t done.

“No harm done.” Lord Constantine bowed with the ridiculous flourish of a court courier. “If you’re so anxious to depart, I shall bring my breakfast too.”

Faith rolled her eyes ceilingward. Served her right for coveting the cinnamon bun.

He turned to the beaming cook and flashed a disarming smile. “Cook dearest, put a piece of ham between two slices of bread, will you? I’ll also take two cinnamon buns.”

“Of course, yer lordship.” A wide smile divided Cook’s face as she bustled to do his bidding.

Lord Constantine clearly had the woman wrapped around his little finger. Faith had never seen this side of him. Charming and carefree and…and by George, playful.

Lord Constantine Kellinggrave was playful.

More than one female servant eyed him approvingly from beneath her lashes, and a queer unpleasant sensation rooted around Faith’s stomach at their obvious interest.

Not jealousy.

Nothing could be farther from the truth or more absurd.

Ridiculous.

What had he called the cook?

Primrose Pumilia Pippenger.

Surely not the woman’s real name. If so, someone had done the poor dear a disservice.

Faith cast a longing glance out the door, absently noting the tidy kitchen garden with its carefully tended rows of herbs and vegetables. She shifted her gaze over the dry rock wall bordering one side of the garden to the pasture beyond.

If she hadn’t been so greedy, she might be trudging across yonder meadow even now, munching on the cinnamon bun.

His strides long and sleek, Constantine sauntered over, and though he wore his usual self-assured smile, sympathy and kindness warmed his green eyes.

Bolster yourself. Raise your ramparts.

That Faith had to tell herself to be on guard didn’t bode well.

Cognizant of the ears cocked and trying to hear their every word, Faith whispered. “Lord Constantine, I don’t desire company.”

He continued to smile indulgently at her.

“I’m simply going for a walk in the meadows.” Really, must he keep smiling at her in that rakish fashion? And, confound it, must her silly pulse quicken because he did?

His smile broadened incrementally as if he knew precisely what she was about and meant to thwart her plans regardless.

Fine. Two could play that game.

Fashioning an innocent smile, she angled her head to meet his amused gaze. Why must he be so dashed tall? It was rather discomposing to take someone down a peg while craning one’s neck.

“I plan to spend time in deep prayer and seek the Lord’s guidance, not conversation,” she said.