Keeping Faith (Fair Cyprians of London 3)

And, of course, that could mean only one thing—that he was keeping his distance from Faith and any possibility of entanglement as much as possible.

She twisted her head. “We’ve already discussed this, Mr Westaway. Of course you don’t want to find yourself compromised with someone like me; I completely understand. And even if, despite the greatest care taken, it was suggested I was compromised, and it won’t happen, I assure you, I would act with honour; you must know that.”

“Those words sound so wrong coming from your pretty mouth.” His tone was downcast. “Indeed, you do speak plainly.” He spoke so softly she could barely hear.

“It was the only way in my household,” Faith told him, trying to sound more cheerful. As if this wasn’t the weighty conversation it was. “With so many of us, it was difficult to get our way at the best of times. So, I’ve grown accustomed to being grateful for whatever I can have.”

“And what is it you want, Faith?”

She was surprised he asked the question but answered it with an admirable show of equanimity, adopting a more serious tone but, she hoped, with enough levity not to frighten him. “I want to be respectably married, have a husband who appreciates me and is kind to me, and I want children. I want what every woman wants. Surely you know it’s the desire of each and every debutante in London with whom I’m competing.”

He’d taken on the role of hair brusher with care and gentleness but he laughed, tugging a hank of hair which made her wince. Immediately he was full of apology, but Faith waved her hand in the air before resting it seemingly arbitrarily on…his hand.

She kept it there, saying, “I’ve borne a great deal worse pain than this. Please continue with the brushing, Mr Westaway. It’s not often I get to enjoy such a gentle touch. Perhaps that’s why I’m so competitive. Not very attractive in a woman which is why I try to keep quiet in company. Gentlemen much prefer a young woman to have no opinions.”

She turned at the silence and the fact he’d stopped brushing and faced him. He looked nonplussed.

“I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you with my revelations regarding my true character, Mr Westaway. I’m sure you’d have far preferred to uphold an image of me as mild-natured and demure. That’s how Lady Vernon told me to behave when I first came to London. But as I’ve got to know you more, I can’t hide my true nature. I’m so far from the perfect, demure debutante Lady Vernon thought she was going to be chaperoning about London.”

“But your beauty makes up for that.” He shook his head as if he’d not believed he’d said it. “I’m very sorry I said that. The sentiment was unseemly on both counts.”

Faith swallowed. She was feeling her way in the dark, so to speak. Yes, part of her tutoring was to exchange banter with a range of gentlemen, and she’d enjoyed it. But one false step and she could lose everything for which she’d worked so hard.

She pushed to the back of her mind any thought that she might actually be wanting this for reasons to do with her own heart rather than as a means to an end. Faith had never had the luxury to think of anything other than survival. And her survival depended upon twisting this man around her little finger. Making him fall in love with her.

The way he was looking at her bolstered her confidence that she could do this.

“You think you shouldn’t say I’m beautiful because it’ll turn my head?” she asked softly. “Or you think that an independent mind should be irrelevant in the face of beauty.” Faith shifted a little on her footstool but held herself back from contact. His lithe, strong body was within easy touching. She could have put her hand on his knee or risen slowly and cupped his face. How would he have reacted? Would he have sunk into a kiss…only to berate himself afterwards? Yes, she sensed a steeliness in him that would enable him to put reason above his emotions.

But what if she couched it as a business proposition? A ladylike proposition?

She cleared her throat and lowered her eyes, keeping herself firmly glued to the footstool.

“Mr Westaway…”

She wasn’t sure if her approach was damning any chances she had, but she’d decided the logical path was best.

“Yes, Miss Montague.

” It looked like he’d managed, with an effort, to regain his composure, and that he was grateful to her for reining him back in, for there was a warmth in his expression that was far more friendly than incendiary.

“You know how I hope this painting is going to help win me suitors? I mean, I’ve made no secret of that, and it’s ridiculous for any other debutante to pretend otherwise.”

“Yes, we both have high hopes for this painting. Though I don’t know what I shall say if I do win and it comes to my father’s ears.”

“You’ll be in Germany doing just as he wishes. And you’ll have the accolades you desire. It’s the perfect outcome.” She sighed deeply. “As for me, I could be married in six weeks and, right at this very moment, not even know my husband—the man I’ll spend the rest of my life with. Isn’t that strange to think?”

“Very strange.” He looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“Mr Westaway, I want you to kiss me. You see, I’ve never been kissed before, and I’m very curious and would like to have just a little practise for when I meet the man I will marry.” She smiled at him. “A single kiss is all right, isn’t it? I mean, it doesn’t mean my reputation or yours is besmirched. I’ve read plenty of romances where it’s quite normal for a man and a woman to kiss and nothing terribly awful happens afterwards.”

She sat with her hands clasped in her lap and looked at him enquiringly.

He looked back at her and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Montague. That’s not how a kiss is conducted. And regardless of how it is or isn’t conducted, I couldn’t possibly kiss you.”

She nodded, as if conceding a practical matter. “I understand. In the novels I’ve read there has to be a strong feeling happening here.” She touched her heart. “I just thought that it would be interesting to experiment so I could see how my heart felt when you kissed me, which of course you’re not going to do now. I thought it would be nice to have some level of comparison for when I’m kissed by a real suitor with whom I’d consider spending the rest of my life.” She rolled her shoulders and turned away, offering him the back of her head, and within a few seconds was relieved to feel the steady tug of the hairbrush over her hair. “I hope I didn’t embarrass you, Mr Westaway.”

“Not at all. It’s good to be able to speak frankly to one another. I like a young woman who doesn’t resort to artifice and veiled lies to get what she wants.”