“I did not ask for your help nor would I ever—”
He lifted his hand. “Do me a favour, Pen, and let us have breakfast before you impart to me the entire story. I’m fiendishly hungry. Come.”
The latter came out as a command and allowed no counter argument. He held out his hand. Pen placed the pistol in it. He locked it away in the Chinese cabinet and motioned her to follow him to the dining room.
“I need strong coffee, and my friend here will join me for breakfast,” Alworth imparted to the butler.
“Very well, sir.”
“I really shouldn’t disturb your breakfast like this,” Pen mumbled.
“Have you broken your fast yet?”
In response, her stomach growled loudly.
“I ascertain not. Sit down.”
He motioned at the chair opposite to his. The footman served them beefsteak. Far too heavy a fare for breakfast, for Pen was used to toast and tea, but as it was noontime, she was so hungry she could’ve easily consumed an entire cow.
After they had eaten, Alworth dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin and leaned back in his chair. The butler poured coffee. Alworth added four spoonfuls of sugar and milk.
“The sweeter, the better,” he explained. She herself drank her coffee black.
“Now tell me exactly how it came about that Blackstone called you out.”
Pen rambled off the story. “I suppose I shouldn’t have insulted him. But I was so angry, you see.”
“What did you call him?”
“A corny-faced pig-widgeon.”
Alworth guffawed. “You’re priceless, Pen. Blackstone is understandably offended.”
“Yes.” She looked at her coffee unhappily.
“You could back out of it. Cowardly, but it’d be the easy way out.”
She sat up, stung. Her black eyes flashed. “Never. It’s a matter of honour. You weren’t there when it happened. How they insulted Lucy. It was unbearable! It was crude, rude, dastardly and disgusting.”
He held up his hand. “Who on earth is Lucy?”
“My friend. I would die for her.”
“No doubt you have set yourself up for that very opportunity. But let us backtrack one step.Whois Lucy?”
“The Duchess of Ashmore.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Ashmore. By George. That is elevated company. What do you have to do with the Ashmores?”
“Lucy’s a very good friend.” Pen jumped up and walked up and down, gesticulating. “To return to the point. It isn’t fair to slander a person’s honour when they aren’t even there to defend themselves. Granted, they were half drunk, but that is no excuse. I won’t have any of my friends slandered in such a manner.”
Alworth wondered whether Pen would defend him similarly, if he ever had the honour to enter her ranks of friendship. She was fiercely loyal to those she called friends.
She ranted on and on until Alworth lifted another hand. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that Ashmore might be more than capable of defending his wife’s honour—in a more effective, yet less dramatic, way? Has it ever occurred to you he might not appreciate you standing up for his wife? And that it might bring about the opposite effect: blowing it up to a full-fledged scandal that is even more difficult to quench?”
“I don’t care a tuppence for what Ashmore thinks. I only care about Lucy’s reputation.”
“So you said. What about your own reputation?” His eyes bored into hers. He willed her to trust him enough to reveal the truth about who she was.
