Allie lifted her head to see Kendall scowling, his eyes locked on the back of her just-kissed hand.
Ethan didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, he clutched her palm and pulled her tight to his side.
Kendall sucked in an outraged breath.
“I thought you were a gentleman of honor, Penn-Leith! Will you now follow the path of this miscreant here?” Kendall stabbed a finger at Fabrizio behind him. “Attempt to blackmail me, too?”
“My intentions toward your sister are most honorable, Your Grace,” Ethan said.
“Bah! No man’s intentions are honorable when a dowry such as Lady Allegra’s is in the offing. What man would marry her without it?”
Kendall’s denunciation landed like a blow to the solar plexus, leaving Allie breathless.
She looked at Ethan . . . and stilled.
Over the past few months, she had seen Ethan Penn-Leith exhibit every emotion—from cheery optimism to thoughtful musing to pained heartbreak.
But for the first time in . . . ever . . . he did not appear charming or good-natured.
No.
Jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed . . .
Ethan Penn-Leith was angry.
Furious.
Apoplectic, even.
“Ye may be a duke, Kendall,” Ethan snapped, “but how dare ye accuse me of monstrous conduct toward a lady I admire and respect as much as your sister.”
“Hear, hear,” Hadley raised an imaginary glass in agreement.
“I love Lady Allegra, Your Grace. For herself and herself alone.” Each word left Ethan’s mouth with the force of a gunshot. “If she would agree, we would ask your blessing for our union, dowry or no.”
“That willneverhappen,” Kendall replied, tone dripping aristocratic certainty. “You would only marry over my cold corpse.”
“That can be arranged,” Fabrizio offered dryly.
“Cold corpse? Truly?” Allie asked in exasperation. “Must you be so melodramatic, Kendall?”
“You cannot agree with Penn-Leith, Lady Allegra,” Kendall returned.
“I do.”
“You lovehim?” Kendall pointed a finger at Ethan. “This lowly-born Scot with no political connections to further our family name? A man whose only credentials are a charming smile and a witty pen? A poet whose current popularity will be fleeting at best?”
Allie knew Kendall meant his words to be insulting, but they brought a smile to her face. The first true smile all day.
“Yes, that precise man. But you neglected to add that Ethan—”
“Ethan is it?!”
“—is kind and funny and clever and kisses with such sweet—”
“Kisses?!” Kendall’s brow became a thundercloud. He whirled on Ethan. “You have been kissing my sister when I expressly forbade it?!”
“Aye.” Ethan’s jaw remained set. He likely resembled his Highland ancestors, eager to snatch up a broadsword and hunt down invading Englishmen. “Aye, I have. And I hope tae kiss her again.”
