And now, he paced his room and pondered the problem.
What had happened? Had he somehow offended Allie?
Or, perhaps, Kendall had asserted his tyrannical nature and forbade Lady Allegra from even looking at Ethan?
Frowning, he stopped before the window and stretched, looking past the box shrubs of the Italianate garden to the checkerboard farmland and the pines of Ross Muir rising along the horizon.
A flash of movement caught his eye.
He glanced to the right just in time to see Lady Allegra, dressed in a blue riding habit with a jaunty wee hat atop her head, enter the house at the southeast door.
Needing answers only Allie could provide, Ethan reached for his coat.
He raced down the hallway and managed to encounter Allie as she ascended the circular secondary staircase that led from the stables to the guest rooms, long skirts draped over one arm, eyes downcast.
“There ye be, lass,” he said without preamble.
Allie startled, her head snapping up.
“Ah, Mr. Penn-Leith.” She paused her climb and nodded. “I trust you are well.”
“I was until ye began calling meMr. Penn-Leithagain,” Ethan scowled. “What has happened, Allie? Ye were avoiding my company yesterday.”
She bit her lip, glancing away.
“Allie?” he asked.
She looked back up at him, skewering him with her gray gaze. “I have just come from a ride with my brother and Lord Charswood.” She hefted the skirt draped on her arm.
“Did ye now?”
“Charswood made me a most unusual proposal.”
Ethan froze, unsure how to reply to that.
“And?” he asked.
She shrugged. “He suggests a marriage of convenience between us.”
Ethan’s brows drew down and down as Allie explained the details of Charswood’s offer.
His heart thundered in his ribcage.
Damn Charswood for tempting her so.
“I don’t like Charswood for ye,” he said when Allie finished.
“You don’t have a say in that.”
“I ken that, but as your friend, I am going tae express my opinion.”
“You sound a bit jealous.”
“Iamjealous—full stop! I detest the thought of ye settling for a loveless marriage. Of committing your life to a man who cares not a whit for the elegant sweep of your neck or the kissable dip of your collarbones. A man who can fall asleep without his arms aching for you. A man who is content to sleep in a different house, for heaven’s sake!”
She said nothing, staring intently up at him, her gray eyes turbulent pools.
They studied one another, the dim light of the stairwell casting her features in half shadow.
