And Allie realized in that moment that she was going to do this.
That despite her better judgment, she would let Ethan Penn-Leith know her better. That she would permit this friendship to blossom between them.
And so, she set the syllables free.
“It may seem odd to say . . . but I do understand that sort of liminal existence.” She forced the words past her lips. “Though I am the daughter of a duke, I have lived most of my life on the fringes of gentility. Unlike other ladies of my station, I have not been sheltered from the horrors and vicissitudes of Reality. And as such, I cannot relate to other women of theton.”
It made the cage Kendall crafted for her all the more difficult to bear.
“It is a lonely place tae be.” Ethan nodded. “And what of yourself? Who are your true friends?”
Her friends?
What friends?
Allie struggled to know how to answer that question.
She finally offered Ethan the truth.
“Well . . . I have you, do I not?” she said with strained cheer.
His raised eyebrows said she had not fooled him one whit.
“Was your twin never a friend? Even when you were children?” he asked.
Loss paralyzed her lungs for the space of three heartbeats.
Thump.Tristan squishing into her small bed on a stormy night, his cold hands seeking the warmth of hers.
Thump.Allie racing her twin across the back lawn of Gilbert House, shrieking when Tristan tackled her to the mossy grass.
Thump.Tristan slipping her a biscuit he had nicked from the kitchen, whispering, “Just for you, Allie. I know it’s your favorite.”
She banished the memories with one deep breath.
“In any way that matters,” she said so slowly, the words dripped like cold treacle, “my brother, Tristan, is long dead.”
Ethan’s fingertips pressed into the tabletop, as if forcibly restraining himself from reaching across the table and touching her, the motion causing a series of muscles to contract in those delectable forearms. Her own hands tingled from the imagined touch.
“And . . . your mother?” he asked.
Allie took in a shuddering breath. The memory of her mother’s final moments surfaced—eyes hollow, skin yellow and gaunt, death hovering in the fetid air.
This was always the problem with letting another inside one’s armor. Eventually, they wantedallyour secrets. Even the painful ones Allie had long buried for good reason.
Swallowing, she made a show of rising from her chair and crossing to the paned window. Rain pooled in rippling concentric circles on the flagstone street below.
“From my bedchamber window, I can see the walls of the ruined medieval abbey on the hill behind the inn.” She turned back to Ethan. “When the weather lifts, we should explore it.”
His eyes said the obvious.I know ye be avoiding my question.
And hers replied.Yes, but I have given you enough of myself today. I cannot share any more.
Ethan rose and walked to the window, stopping beside her, hands clasped behind his back, his shoulder so close to hers, she could feel the radiating heat of him.
“Aye,” he agreed. “When the rain lifts, we should go.”
Ethan braced hisbody against the wind. After two days ofdreichclouds, a stiff breeze had arrived and blown the rain out to sea. The chill air swept in off the ocean, turning the sea frothy and buffeting the ruins of Whitby Abbey that loomed ahead.
