“As you say,” the duke replied, tone cold. “Regardless of intent, Penn-Leith, your actions have landed us in a particularly thorny predicament. If word of Lady Allegra’s involvement gets out, she will be ruined. Given the delicate nature of this situation, I rely on your honor as a gentleman to ensure this information remains secret.”
“Naturally, Your Grace.”
“I am also certain I do not need to indulge in melodrama to make clear that you are not to speak with Lady Allegra again. Your short association with her has sufficiently tempted scandal.”
Ethan’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
“Madonna mia, Kendall”—Lady Allegra surged to her feet—“I am hardly some precious flower in need of your protection. I’ll associate with whomever I wish and—”
“You are dismissed, Mr. Penn-Leith.” Kendall pointed toward the door. “I would like a word with my sister.”
Not five minuteslater, Ethan slipped out a side door of Gilbert House and into the mews. Devotees of his poetry still milled about in front of the townhouse, so Fredericks had suggested he leave by another route.
Hat pulled low, Ethan walked away from Grosvenor Square—shoulders hunched, gait purposeful—praying no one recognized him.
The cold reality of his situation weighed heavier and heavier with each step.
For a man who had awakened determined to avoid Lady Allegra at all costs, he had monumentally blundered. Any hope of petitioning Kendall for a shipping contract was now dead. Uncle Leith would be bitterly disappointed.
Did Ethan regret his actions? Was he discomfited in knowing Lady Allegra had used him for her own aims?
Unfortunately for both his pocketbook and his future, the answer was truthfully . . .no.
No, he did not regret stepping into the back garden of Gilbert House and speaking with Lady Allegra. He did not regret their verbal sparring or listening to the throaty timbre of her laughter. And despite the consequences, he most certainly did not regret enjoying the plush feel of her mouth on his once more.
His blood heated at the thought.
Ethan had often wondered if the circumstances of their initial kiss—the thrill of the highwaymen, the surprise of hisladra’sdefection—had been the source of the kiss’s power. That it had lingered in his memory as this electrifying moment due to the perilous situation, not necessarily because the kiss itself was pleasure and awe and heat on his lips.
In that, he had been mistaken.
Today . . . kissing Lady Allegra . . . the press of her body against his, the husky catch in her throat at his touch—
Ethan bent his head lower and took in a slow, steadying breath.
Aye. He had not exaggerated the power of her kiss.
He wanted more of them. An endless number.
A star-scape of kisses shimmering onward to eternity.
The line of poetry drifted through his mind.
Hmmm. That was rather good.
He pulled his ever-present notebook and pencil from an inside coat pocket and scribbled the line down.
Of course, nothing led him to assume Lady Allegra had felt the same about either of their kisses.
Tucking the notebook away, he crossed Oxford street and slipped into a wee alleyway, cutting through the narrow lanes of mews that backed larger houses.
As he wended his way back to Uncle Leith’s townhouse, one awful, glorious thought occurred:
In the end, he had never promised Kendall that he would cease all communication with Lady Allegra.
Theycouldstill speak with one another.
Not that Ethan would. But hecould. . . and still keep his honor as a gentleman.
