“P-pardon?” he finally managed to say.
Ethan’s mind raced, attempting to connect all the points of the duke’s logic.
“I know,” Kendall gave yet another weary sigh. Which, for the stoic duke, had to be a record. “It seems utterly counterintuitive, and yet . . .”
“Nae,” Ethan slowly nodded, the picture forming in his mind, “I can see the logic of it. If I am invited to travel with ye to Scotland, as a hanger-on or even guest of sorts, then it makes it harder for the press and Society gossips tae argue that ye be concealing something. The action proclaims louder than words that their scurrilous claims have no credence. Why would ye allow me within a mile of your sister if she were the highwaywoman of my poem? Of course, ye would not. Your own reputation for propriety is unimpeachable.”
The plan was rather diabolical, actually.
No wonder the man succeeded in politics.
Ethan may not have liked Kendall as a person, but the duke’s mind for strategy was rapier sharp.
“Precisely.” The duke nodded in approval. “A Duke of Kendall would never risk his own sister’s reputation in such a manner. We are above reproach. Therefore, by admitting you into my inner circle, I am showing plainly and clearly to the entire world that I—that you, that my sister—have nothing to hide. That the story regarding Lady Allegra is an utter falsehood.”
“And thereby taking the wind out of any gossip rag that chooses tae perpetuate the idea that Lady Allegra is the woman from ‘One Kiss Alone.’”
“Exactly,” Kendall said. “In turn, I will encourage several of the more favorable newspapers to report on our journey together to Scotland. Perhaps weave it into a tale based on the rumors—I found it appalling that anyone could presume such behavior of my own beloved sister, but it did spark a desire to explore Scotland. And who better to guide us than the Highland Poet himself.”
Despite himself, Ethan was impressed.
It was clever. Very Clever.
More than anyone, he understood the power of words and a good narrative.
Kendall continued, “You will agree to accompany us, of course.”
Not a question.
Och,there was the duke that Ethan knew. Autocratic and demanding.
How could Ethan turn this to his own advantage? He quickly thought through options.
“Of course,” he replied smoothly. “Though I do have four questions.”
“Four? That seems rather excessive.”
Kendall stared him down. Ethan met his gaze, unflinchingly.
After a moment, the duke relented.
“Very well.” His Grace waved a hand. “Proceed.”
Internally, Ethan celebrated the wee victory. “Where are we going in Scotland?”
Kendall smiled faintly. “Well, if I have the Highland Poet as my guide, then we should retire to the place Ethan Penn-Leith knows best—Fettermill and the Angus Glens.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “My home?”
“Muirford House, to be precise. You likely already know that Lord Hadley is hosting another of his political gatherings.”
Ah.Of course, Kendall would have been invited to Hadley’s house party.
“I would prefer you to stay at Muirford House,” the duke continued, “and not the ramshackle affair you call a home, even if that overbearing brother of yours insists.”
“Malcolm? And Thistle Muir?”
“The very same.” Kendall brushed lint off his trousers.
