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That was what he should have told her before he proposed except, perhaps, not the maddening as Hades bit.
“Miss Roth just entered the ballroom.” Mother gave him a little shove. “Now go. Put that brilliant mind to work and find a way to win that young woman. I should very much like her as a daughter-in-law.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Constantine gave her a swift hug.
Faith, so breathtakingly stunning that his breath hitched in his lungs, glided across the ballroom, seemingly on air. She hadn’t seen him yet, so he took a few moments to appreciate each of her precious features.
The heart was a queer thing.
What he’d believed was aggravation and frustration toward her had actually been him fighting against the attraction he felt.
Fearful that she’d bolt and run, Constantine approached her as cautiously as he would a nervous doe.
Edyth saw him first and winked, the precocious minx.
“Faith?”
She stiffened, and he could see her erecting her battlements as she pivoted in his direction.
“Oh, my. Something seems to have happened.” Edyth stared at a weeping Ida Looram being led from the ballroom by her mother and sister before she switched her focus to Charlotte’s pale face. “Charlotte looks rather upset. I must see if I can help.”
In a trice, she’d disappeared into the crowd.
“Good evening, my lord.” Faith stared past his shoulder.
Mother gave an imperial wave of her hand, and the orchestra immediately launched into a waltz. Of course, it was a waltz, no doubt at the duchess’s behest.
Constantine didn’t mind her interference if it meant aiding his cause in winning Faith.
Wilfred and a couple of chaps escorted a beet-faced Mr. Dempsey to the punch bowl. The mortified curate downed two glasses of punch without taking a breath.
Edyth emerged from the crowd and wrapped an arm around Charlotte’s waist, saying something in her ear that caused Charlotte to chuckle and hug Edyth.
Despite being so much younger than the rest of the Kellinggrave children, ever since Edyth learned to talk, she’d always been the peacemaker and soother.
“I know I deserve your contempt after this morning, Faith. Regardless, more than anything in the world, I wish to make amends for my callousness and insensitivity.” He held out his hand. “Would you honor me with this dance?”
Her gaze remained fixated on his gloved hand for five seconds, and he fervently prayed she’d say yes.
Her gaze crept up his chest, past his chin, and she met his eyes.
Their gazes meshed, and the world tipped on its axis.
She tipped his world on its axis.
Her bowed mouth swept upward into a ghost of a smile.
“You know I cannot refuse lest I sit out the rest of the dances, which I am loath to do.”
He grinned as she placed her hand atop his and permitted him to escort her onto the chalked floor. Bending his neck, he spoke into her ear. “You are utterly ravishing. A vision.”
The emerald gown and jewels were stunning, but she was magnificent. Her glorious hair had been swept into a Grecian style, and it shimmered as if spun with copper and gold threads.
Pink tinged Faith’s cheeks. “You look rather splendid yourself.”
Constantine chose a spot on the edge of the dance floor near the open French windows. He hoped to whisk Faith outside and beg for her forgiveness. He wasn’t above groveling. In that respect, mayhap he wasn’t so different from Harvey after all.
Faith curtsied, and he bowed, and then she was in his arms. She kept her gaze fixed on his chin as he swept her around the floor.
