“Like some pampered Roman emperor?” Ethan laughed, his lungs easing. “I think not.”
“Well, you cannot continue to live like this.” She tossed a thumb over her shoulder.
“True. Though I am rather surprised ye saved my hide instead of escaping into London as soon as the mob was upon me.”
“Yes. Me, too.” Was that sarcasm in her voice? “Unfortunately for me, the only way out of our situation was through the crowd. So I did what I must to survive.”
Ethan suspected that might just be her life’s motto:I did what I must to survive.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Do not mistake this for any sort of compassion on my part.” She fixed him with an exasperated look. “Though Idosave your person more often than not. Granted, I’m not sure that is due to my own skill as much as your poor choices and bad luck.”
“Me? Now, my lady, I would not—”
Ethan cut off as a dignified butler in fussy livery all but raced into the room, nearly skidding across the marble floor in an effort to control his speed.
“Lady Allegra!” the man panted. “What is all this? A footman notified me of some commotion? And a celebrated guest?”
“Ah, Fredericks.” Lady Allegra pushed off of the door. “There seems to have been a bit of an incident with Mr. Penn-Leith here.”
Fredericks nearly cricked his neck he turned toward Ethan so quickly.
“Mr. Penn-Leith.” The butler bowed, deep and precise. “It issucha pleasure to welcome you to Gilbert House.”
Ethan nodded, placing his top hat and gloves into the butler’s outstretched hands.
“I am a devout reader of your works.” The man’s eyes were radiant.
Wait? Was that a tear? Was Kendall’s butler about to . . . cry?
“Thank ye.” Ethan donned his ‘sincerity’ face, the one he used with sobbing widows and, apparently, ducal butlers.
“I must tell you, after my mum died,”—the butler tucked Ethan’s hat under his arm and, yes, his eyes were suspiciously glassy—“I read ‘On Grief’ at least once a day.”
“Aye?”
“Your words soothed my soul more than I can ever express.” Fredericks pressed his free hand over his heart.
“I am humbled tae hear it.”
“I owe you such a debt of gratitude . . .”
“Nonsense. Merely knowing ye have read my works is sufficien—”
“Thank you, Fredericks.” Lady Allegra removed her bonnet and slapped it against the butler’s chest. She flounced between the two men, aiming toward a door to the right. “Mr. Penn-Leith will wait with me in the small drawing-room until the enthusiasm of the crowd outside wanes or my brother returns home, whichever occurs first. If the mob outside becomes unruly, send a few grooms to knock heads about.”
Frederick’s eyes widened, and he reverted to the role of a staid house servant. “At once, your ladyship.”
Ethan smiled at the man before following Lady Allegra into the small drawing-room.
He paused in the doorway.
Many adjectives could be used to describe the room. However, the wordsmallor any of its relatives—little, tiny, wee—would not have made the list. Ethan would have chosenopulentorsumptuoushimself.
Rich blue curtains draped two imposing windows to the right, while a gilt fireplace topped by an imposing mirror engulfed the left wall. Lady Allegra sank into one of two large settees that flanked the hearth, sagging her weight against the back in an unladylike neglect of posture.
She motioned for him to shut the door.
