Ethan nodded.
“Is the lady in London?”
Another nod.
Ethan closed his eyes, waiting to see if Uncle Leith would put it together.
Damn and blast.
Had anyone other than Kendall realized Ethan had bolted after Lady Allegra last night? Or . . . had Lady Allegra placed the story herself in a bid to ruin her reputation, as she had alluded?
“Does this relate to why you disappeared for a solid thirty minutes last night when I expressly requested you petition Kendall on behalf of our shipping interests?”
Ethan picked up his fork, mind racing, parsing how to best answer the question. Telling his uncle that Lady Allegra was the woman involved would be a disaster. And yet, withholding the information was equally problematic.
“Out with it.” Uncle Leith beckoned with his fingers. “You know you must tell me eventually.”
“Ye willnae like it.” Ethan stirred his eggs around his plate, his Scottish brogue deepening due to his distress.
It was said Uncle Leith had the look of his sister, Isobel, Ethan’s mother—brown hair, green eyes, a strong jawline. As Isobel had died shortly after his birth, Ethan had no memory of her. But he knew he had inherited many of the same physical traits. People often mistook Ethan to be Uncle Leith’s son.
In that, they were wrong.
Ethan remembered his own father well. A rugged gentleman farmer of soft manner and even softer voice. A kind, good man. The sort who would put Ethan on his shoulders as he trudged out to check on the oats in a far field or cuddle him against his side as he read a book of an evening.
Not once had Ethan doubted his father’s love for him.
The same could not be said for Uncle Leith.
“I’m already apprehensive if this situation causes your language to slip so,” Uncle Leith said sharply. “What have you done, lad? What is the sorry truth behind that poem of yours? As I have told you a thousand times, that trip to Italy was a mistake.”
Ethan had heard that refrain more than enough over the last year.
Uncle Leith had been livid when, on the heels of a romantic disappointment three years past, Ethan had fled Britain for the Continent. His uncle relied on Ethan’s popularity to grow his merchant fleet empire and solidify trade contracts with men in power. However with Ethan gone to Italy, his uncle had found himself on the outside of the highest echelons of Polite Society.
A fact George Leith would never let Ethan forget.
With a sigh, Ethan glanced toward the hallway and the butler standing at attention there. Pushing back from the table, he crossed and closed the dining room door.
Uncle Leith frowned. “As bad as all that?”
“Aye,” Ethan answered. “I don’t want the lady’s identity to leave this room. And trust me, neither do ye yourself.”
Ethan sat down beside his uncle, fixing him with his sternest stare. The expression felt almost foreign on Ethan’s face—pulling his lips down and furrowing his forehead.
No wonder he smiled all the time. ’Twas much simpler than frowning.
“Now ye be frightening me, lad.” His uncle’s accent tended to slip as well when agitated. Morning light filtered through the windows to their right, highlighting his uncle’s graying head and the wealth of wrinkles stacked around his eyes.
Leaning forward, Ethan said on a whisper, “The woman in question is Lady Allegra Gilbert, Uncle. That is why I bolted last night. I didn’t realize it was her until suddenly,poof!, there she was, in the flesh, seated beside Kendall.”
Uncle Leith literally stopped breathing for the count of four seconds.
“Ye be sure, lad?”
“Aye. I spoke with her.”
“How thebloody helldid ye get wrapped up in a scandal with Kendall’s twin sister?” Uncle Leith hissed.
