Shock jolted Ethan’s spine, his voice trailing off.
No.
How could she be here? In England? In London?
Surely, he was mistaken.
Such a reality was impossible.
The words of his poem had merely bewitched his eyes, causing him to see hisladrain this unknown lady.
The elderly gentleman in the front row coughed again.
Spell broken, Ethan blinked and, looking away, resumed speaking.
But his eyes couldn’t resist returning to the woman, searching for reasons to dismiss her as his wee thief.
How could it be her?
In his mind’s eye, hisladrahad grown and morphed from a mere Italian lady bent on highway robbery to something more like an enchantress. A pagan goddess of mischief, as beautiful and dangerous as she was unattainable.
No part of him had ever expected to see her again.
And yet . . . the more he studied the unknown lady, the more he was convinced he wasnotmistaken.
It had to be her.
Somehow, some way . . .
Hisladrawas here.
Sitting beside the Duke of Kendall, looking as innocent and benign as an angel.
Lady Allegra Gilbertwas robbed of voice.
Truth be told, she scarcely breathed.
The Scot had recognized her.
Damnation.
This was a wrinkle she hadnotforeseen.
Allie had suspected it might be him when he had first taken the stage. That devastating grin lingered in her memory. Not to mention the looming breadth of his shoulders and tousled shock of chestnut-brown hair.
Then he had begun to recite the tale of their meeting.
Auld MacDougall reminisces, indeed. She mentally rolled her eyes.
Though her forbidden Scot hadn’t lied about being a poet.
Mr. Ethan Penn-Leith.
She knew the name. His fame had even spread to rural Wiltshire and Hawthorn—the primary seat of the Dukes of Kendall—where her brother had condemned Allie to rusticate for the past six months. Her maid there couldn’t speak the nameEthan Penn-Leithwithout blushing. Allie had teased the girl more than once over her infatuation with the Highland Poet.
Though speaking of blushing . . .
Allie forced herself not to squirm. Was this genuinely how Mr. Penn-Leith had seen her? A “fairy tale bound in tight-cut silk”?
