And yet, as Ethan sat in the silence of his uncle’s dining room, he rather thought his uncle might consider him an object, as well.
For Ethan, affection and love had largely been transactional emotions. Love, in particular, had often felt like a commodity that could be removed and bestowed elsewhere on a whim.
Just as his thoughts threatened to become maudlin, a knock sounded on the dining room door.
“Come,” Uncle Leith called.
The butler entered, the morning post on a silver salver. Uncle Leith collected his letters and then motioned for Ethan to take his.
Quickly sorting through the messages from admirers and friends, Ethan smiled to see a letter from his sister, Leah.
Ah.Praise be to the Universe for having an uncanny sense of timing.
Despite the paradoxical reality of his everyday existence—constantly surrounded by people and yet persistently lonely—there were those whodidlove him unconditionally, namely his older siblings, Leah and Malcolm.
At sixteen years his senior, Leah had been more mother to him than sister—quick to rap his knuckles when he stole shortbread cooling on a kitchen worktable, but even quicker with a cuddle.
To him, Leah was home . . . a hug in human form.
Married now, his sister lived ten miles up a Highland glen in drafty Laverloch Castle with her husband, Captain Fox Carnegie, and their two children, Madeline and Jack.
Ethan scanned the lines of her letter:
. . . the rain has been relentless the past few weeks. Jack has resorted to practicing his lure casting in Fox’s study, much to the dismay of both Fox and Mr. Dandy, who has not ceased his feline yowls of protest. But Jack is determined to accompany you fishing when you next visit Laverloch, and so practice he must. How is that for a subtle hint? Meanwhile, tell me how you are faring under the weight of Uncle Leith’s demands. Know that you are missed and loved, wee brother . . .
Ethan’s heart gave a painful thump.
Fishing with wee Jack? He longed for that.
Ethan could practically hear the rushing of the River North Esk and the rustle of wind through the Scots pines along its banks. A hawk’s lone call echoing off the walls of Corrie Finn as he cast his line across the water. And best of all, his six-year-old nephew, Jack—with a shock of blond curls and eyes as vividly blue as the water itself—asking endless questions in his high voice.
Ethan missed Leah and Jack and, well . . . all of them.
Uncle Leith coughed, the sound reverberating around the dining room. Ethan studied his uncle’s profile, noting the wrinkles that time and a fondness for scowling had etched there.
Yes, Uncle Leith did not supply much warmth, and Ethan often felt alone and isolated here in London, but knowing that he would always find welcome at his siblings’ doors was enough.
Did Lady Allegra have people who loved and supported her? Her mother’s family? The highwaymen she associated with in Italy, perhaps?
He prayed that if shehadmanaged to bolt from Lord Aberdeen’s townhouse last night, she would have found friends waiting in some raucous inn with open arms.
And yet . . .
The tightness in Lady Allegra’s eyes and the grim set of her jaw made Ethan doubt such an outcome. Perhaps that was why he had so vociferously questioned her decision to leave.
Because the lady’s strained expression had mirrored, in the brief moment before she left, the loneliness and isolation that Ethan himself felt.
5
Ethan intended to keep his promise to stay away from Lady Allegra.
Truly, he did.
Yes, Lady Allegra Gilbert was the most fascinating woman he had ever met.
Yes, Ethan wanted nothing more than to call upon her and spend hours talking over tea, on a walk, throughout dinner. And then immediately call again the next morning.
The memory of her clung to him, as enticing as the scent of Leah’s bannocks fresh from the griddle and drizzled in honey. And just as he did with his sister’s cooking, Ethan longed to greedily feast on Lady Allegra’s company.
