Turning to Pen, he asked, “Where are we going, now?”
“To Covent Garden. To that woman’s nunnery.”
“The deuce you will. Absolutely, utterly, completely, no.” Alworth stopped in the middle of the street so that the person behind him ran smack into him.
Pen shrugged. “Fine. You don’t have to come. I will go on my own.”
She stepped onto the street to cross it. Alworth grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. “You cannot possibly mean that.”
Pen tore her arm from his grip. “Let me go. And I do mean it. It’s the only way for me to see Rochford.”
Alworth frowned. “Why don’t you wait until His Grace returns and call on him like any other reasonably minded person? Leave him a missive, by Jove’s beard.”
“Because I’m not a reasonably minded person.”
“The understatement of the century.”
“Besides, I already did that. We don’t know when he is returning. Says the butler. I will grow old sitting in my room waiting for a message from him. Marcus doesn’t answer letters.” Pen strode swiftly down the road. “All I need is a glimpse of the man. If it’s not him, I will give up this search and return to Miss H—” she stopped and continued, “I mean, I will return to where I came from.”
“Ah, yes, the eternal mystery of the origins of Pen Kumari,” murmured Alworth. “Nonetheless, it won’t do.”
To his surprise, Pen relented. “Very well, if you say so.” She trotted next to him, meek and biddable as a baby chick following her mother hen.
Alworth shot her a surprised look. “Good.”
“Where are we going now?”
“I thought a new set of boots for you are in order.”
Pen sighed. “Very well.”
“Hoby’s is this way.” Alworth pointed with his stick the other direction.
They spentthe entire afternoon trying on boots, and Pen found herself surprised at how much she enjoyed it. Alworth, no doubt, was one of Hoby’s best customers.
Alworth, however, seemed oddly preoccupied that afternoon. There was a strain around his eyes and a line around his mouth that never quite seemed to turn up into his usual charming, easy-going smile.
Pen peeped at him uneasily. “You seem in a peckish mood today?”
They had ordered three pairs of boots each and had them delivered to Alworth’s home. Alworth did not trust that they would be safe in Pen’s inn. She was to pick up the parcel from Cavendish Square later. Then Alworth took her to Gunter’s for ices, and Pen was certain she’d never enjoyed herself more.
“Hm? What do you mean?”
“It’s almost as if you’re brooding. You’re not worried about anything?” Pen popped a spoonful of pistachio ice into her mouth.
“Worried!” He sat up straight. “By George. No!”
“Then what is the matter?”
Alworth folded his arms and frowned. “Nothing is. I am to be married, that’s all.”
Pen’s spoon fell onto the table. “Oh! I had no idea.”
“That is, not quite so imminently.” The frown line between his brows grew thicker. “That is, maybe it is rather imminent, if you consider I am to leave for India in two months’ time. I’d like to take my wife along then.”
Pen snapped her mouth shut. “Who is she?”
“Miss Letty Mountroy.”
