“I mean, not in that manner. Not as you think…” Her voice petered out.
He threw his head back and burst into a guffaw of laughter that shook his entire body. Pen glanced around nervously. They were attracting attention.
“Pen. Oh, Pen. You are a joy to be with. I swear I haven’t laughed in this manner since—” He burst into a peal of laughter again. “I can’t even remember when I’ve last laughed like that.” He wiped his eyes. Then he laughed again.
Pen sat straight and stiff. “I fail to see what’s so funny, sir.”
Alworth slapped her on the shoulder so that her nose dipped into her melted green pistachio soup. “Pen, my boy. The look on your face is priceless. It is none of my business whom you love. Even if it is your guardian who turns out to be a lecherous old duke.”
With a grin, he pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. Pen wiped her nose.
“He’s definitely not a lecherous old duke,” she muttered.
For sure he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. But suddenly she wasn’t so certain anymore. What if he was? What would she do then?
Pen shifted uncomfortably in her chair and swallowed. Alworth certainly had regained his old self. He led her out of the coffeehouse, twirling his stick.
“I will leave you here, my cub. Take my carriage and go home. I have business to attend to nearby. I need to make a call on Mountroy.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Unless you’d like to accompany me?”
What. And watch him court Letty Mountroy? She’d rather face Blackstone in a duel, fists only.
“No, thank you,” Pen said hastily. “I have business myself to conduct.”
Alworth nodded at her and strode down the street.
Pen looked after him, feeling for one moment that she wanted to run after him and talk him out of his crazy plan.
Then she pulled herself up.
It was none of her business whom he married, whether or not he loved his bride. Miss Letty Mountroy. Bah. He should marry this Letty Mountroy and go to India and live happily ever after, and she would marry Marcus and live happily ever after.
Speaking of Marcus.
Madame Beaumont was waiting.
