Odd that she hadn’t thought of him in that light before now.
Who was Ethan Penn-Leith truly—the man that the adoring public didn’t know?
A coal wagon clattering along the street jolted her to her senses.
Uffa.Ethan Penn-Leith was doing it again: bewitching her away from her goals.
His charm was potent. Did he don it the way she donned confidence: a mask to keep the world awa—
No.Stop.
She refused to be enticed into analyzing Ethan Penn-Leith.
The man was a menace. Full stop. She need know nothing more than that.
He clearly was hesitant to help her; Kendall’s shadow loomed large.
Shaking her head, she backed away from the poet.
“Enough distraction, Mr. Penn-Leith. I must be on my way.” She nodded at him. “ArrivederLa.”
Pivoting yet again, Allie walked purposefully down the alleyway to the cobblestone street circling Grosvenor Square. Coaches with gilded crests rolled past, a curricle or two zipping between them. A group of gentlemen and ladies on horses walked down the middle of the hubbub, laughing and chatting. Children shrieked with nannies in tow.
A group of débutantes strolled past with their mothers, curious heads turning in her direction.
Mmmm.
Allie keenly felt the lack of a chaperone and a shawl.
Not that she needed or wanted either item, but her lack of them made it harder to blend into the masses. Her red silk dress with its fine Venetian lace collar and acres of black velvet trim did phenomenal things for her figure but was more akin to a bullfighters cape than a monk’s cloak for one who wished to remain inconspicuous.
She looked precisely what she was—a wealthy, aristocratic heiress.
Bother.
But she hadn’t participated in five years of Fabrizio’s scheming without acquiring some pluck. She merely needed a few minutes to think through her options and formulate a plan. Preferably out of sight of the front windows of Gilbert House. The trees and shrubbery in the fenced garden in the center of the square suited that goal.
Undaunted, Allie lifted her skirts and carefully picked her way across the street to the park, her movements purposeful and direct.
More heads turned her way.
A tall black iron fence surrounded the garden. She followed the pavement until coming to an imposing gate which, unfortunately, stood precisely opposite her brother’s townhouse.
She raised her hand to unfasten the latch.
“Permit me, my lady.” Large gloved fingers reached past her shoulder to unlatch the gate.
Allie looked up into Ethan Penn-Leith’s mossy eyes and barely resisted the urge to stamp her foot.
“A piece of advice, Mr. Penn-Leith.” Allie could hear the exasperation in her voice. “When a lady requests you quit her company, it is decidedly rag-mannered to continue to foist your presence upon her.”
“Understood, Lady Allegra.” The dratted Scot dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Let me state that I merely wished tae take in the greenery of Grosvenor Square and, therefore, I am merely acting the gentleman in assisting ye with opening this heavy, iron gate. I was not, as it may appear, following ye.”
Allegra narrowed her eyes. “You are playing with semantics now.”
“I would call itpoeticlicense,”—he lifted his eyebrows—“but far be it from me tae contradict your fair self.”
A long beat of silence.
