He and Lady Allegra were pinned in place—the iron fence at their backs, a half-moon mob blocking escape to the sides and front.
Only one option remained—he would need to woo the multitude into complacency.
Ethan held up his palms in a placating gesture.
Was this how the Pied Piper of Hamelin had felt when facing a hoard of rats? Hadn’t Mr. Browning written a poem on that very topic not two years past?
Regardless, Ethan pasted on The Swooner, flaring his charm as brightly as possible.
At the sight, two maids sighed and a débutante fainted rather dramatically onto her companions.
Truly, this was all a bit ridiculous.
“Friends!” he said, smile deepening with his brogue.Charm, charm, charm.“How lovely tae see so many supporters out and about on this bonnie aftern—”
“Oy! Who is the lady behind ye?” someone called.
“Is she the one from the poem?”
“Look at her hair. Is it jet black?”
“Does she have gray eyes, too?”
Ethan’s smile morphed into a plastic expression.
It was one thing for a mob of acolytes to accost him.
It was something else entirely for them to unmask Lady Allegra.
“Come now.” He spread his hands. “My companion is of no concer—”
“Give us a poem!” a footman yelled.
“Can you make one up on the spot? Right this instant?”
Sweat turned the band of Ethan’s hat sticky.
How had his day gone so sideways?
Uncle Leith was going to disinherit him.
Right after Kendall broke every bone in his body for exposing his twin sister to the censure of theton.
Assuming Ethan could get them out of thisfankle.
A firm wee hand shoved Ethan’s shoulder, sending him lurching sideways.
Lady Allegra stomped forward, hands on her hips.
“Enough! How disgraceful!” Her voice rang over the gathered throng. She stood at militant attention, a thousand years of aristocratic breeding apparent in her posture and cut-glass vowels. “Mr. Penn-Leith is neither a monkey to dance to your bidding, nor an automaton to be wound up on command. You should all be ashamed!”
The crowd shuffled backwards in the wake of Lady Allegra’s fury.
“Now, if you will please excuse us. Mr. Penn-Leith has an appointment with my brother, His Grace, the Duke of Kendall. You there!” Lady Allegra pointed at a particularly burly coachman. “You seem an enterprising fellow. Could you help clear a path to Gilbert House?” She waved a hand to indicate the imposing pillared edifice towering across the street. “I am sure Kendall will be displeased to find his guest has been accosted on the pavement before his very abode.”
The man blushed and, with a bob of his head, jumped to do her bidding.
“Ye heard the lady!” he bellowed in a voice that could likely be heard in Westminster. “Make way!”
