“You do not care, my lord, that you may have a viper in your midst?” he countered, darting another pointed look at Allie.
His meaning was unmistakable.
Hadley’s eyes narrowed.
Allie didn’t know the earl well, but that expression on a nobleman’s face never presaged gentle words or kind behavior.
Hadley rose. “Might I have a wee word with yourself, Mr. Sacci?”
“I believe I shall join you, Hadley.” Kendall stood as well.
“Count me in,” Ethan quipped.
Without thinking, Allie rose to her feet.
Kendall gave her a repressing look. Allie returned with a slight shake of her head.
As if she would permit her brother, her beau, and Lord Hadley to question a former colleague and—well, whatever else Fabrizio had once been to her—without herself being present.
“Shall I come, as well, Your Grace?” Charswood asked at Allie’s elbow.
Allie met her brother’s gaze at the question. She could almost hear the calculations whirring in his brain. If Charswood learned of Allie’s career as a highwaywoman and involvement withLa Giovine Italia, how would that affect Kendall’s political stratagems?
Her brother turned to Charswood with a tight smile. “I believe you had best remain here, my lord.”
Ah.
Turning, Kendall offered her his arm.
Moments later, they followed Hadley, along with Ethan and Fabrizio, into the seclusion of his lordship’s private study.
22
Ethan stood to one side of Hadley’s study, shoulder blades resting against the window casement, carefully observing each person present.
The room was a pleasant one with rich wood paneling and bookcases, two large windows, and an enormous desk situated in the middle.
The palpable strain between the room’s occupants, however, rendered the atmosphere as fraught as a sheriff court session.
Fabrizio lounged against a bookcase opposite the doorway.
Allie stood beside Kendall just inside the door, her back ramrod straight as if facing a firing squad. The set of Kendall’s mouth and his steady glare at Fabrizio said he wished to tear the Italian limb from limb.
Hadley leaned a shoulder into the fireplace mantel, expression curious.
For his part, Ethan crossed his feet at the ankle and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. He had slept for an hour—just enough to prevent himself from collapsing on his feet—before bathing and hurrying to Muirford House to see Allie.
They were hardly done with their conversation from earlier. Ethan just hoped he could keep himself on his feet until then. He took in a deep breath, trying to clear the cobwebs in his brain.
“It pleases me to see you all here,” Fabrizio began, grinning confidently. “Perhaps we can dismiss pleasantries and move on to discussing how you will ensure my silence?”
No one else moved, but Hadley’s eyebrows rose. “Well, my afternoon just became more interesting,” the earl said, standing upright and folding his arms. “Silence on what?”
Fabrizio’s returning grin was wicked. “Lady Allegra is the woman from Mr. Penn-Leith’s poem.”
“The highwaywoman he kissed?” Hadley asked.
“Sì, the very same.”
