Chapter 14
“Iwill be out of town for a while,” Alworth imparted to her as they stood in front of the shabby inn where she held her lodgings. “I have some business in Wiltshire.”
His estate in Wiltshire was run by a very efficient steward who sent him weekly reports. Alworth’s take had been, so far, not to meddle in something that ran very well without his interference. His family, however, interpreted his continual absence as indifference to his legacy.
“You’re more interested in your tailors than in the agricultural development of the land,” his brother James had once accused him. There was some truth in those words; yet until now, he hadn’t felt bothered by them in the least.
Why was it lately that he felt he had to get involved in his steward’s affairs and show some interest? And why this sudden urge to visit his brother and sister, Bea and James? In addition to, good heavens, his spinster aunt, Honoria.
He suspected this change in his attitude had something to do with Pen. More than once, the thought crossed his mind that he really wasn’t better than Pen’s unworthy guardian. Hadn’t he abandoned his family similarly as Rochford had abandoned Pen? The notion left him squirming. Anyway, he ought to visit them before he departed for India. Who knows, he might never see them again after that.
“For how long will you be gone?” Pen asked.
Did he imagine it, or did her tone sound woeful?
“I suppose a fortnight at the minimum.” Alworth watched Pen from under hooded eyes.
A shadow flitted over her narrow face. “Very well. I shall miss you,” she said gruffly.
He took her by the chin and tilted it up. There was a soft colour in her sweetly curled lips. Her eyelashes swept down as a flush covered her high cheekbones.
He stared, mesmerised, at her gently parted lips.
So tempting. So sweet. An overwhelming desire to kiss her overcame him.
He lowered his head. The smell of honeysuckle entered his nose. Underneath that manly facade, she was all woman. A courageous woman of the likes he’d never known before. A woman worthy of loving.
The deuce! Was he out of his mind?
Alworth dropped his hands and took a step back. All of a sudden, he did not know what to do with them, so he fiddled around with his cravat. “Don’t get into any kind of trouble,” he said huskily. He cleared his throat. “Like seeking Rochford in some gaming hell. Or getting called out for another duel, or worse.”
The blush on her cheeks, which for one moment had intensified to a strong rose, faded. She evaded his eyes. “Nonsense. Why would I do that? I will go to White’s every day, eat breakfast, lunch and dinner there, read newspapers and be perfectly bored until you return.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
“Well. I will be off, then.” Pen seemed oddly reluctant to leave.
He gave her a curt nod and left.
Damnation. What had that been about? Alworth strode down the road to regain his composure. His waistcoat felt too tight and his cravat too constricting. A breath of fresh air would surely do him good.
Alworth pondered on her response as he approached Berkeley Square, twirling his stick. The brat, no doubt, was up to something. At the moment, there was nothing he could do about it. Hadn’t he decided not to immerse himself any longer in her problems? She was not his concern. Not his responsibility. Not his ward. Yet… of all people, why Rochford?
He sighed.
Conscience was a damnable thing.
Alworth stopped in front of a dapper townhouse with well-polished iron fencing. Cheerful red begonias decorated the windowsills. This was a friendly house. He hesitated. He could still turn around, pretend he was merely walking past, taking a stroll. He took a big breath, pulled up his shoulders and climbed the stairs to knock on the door. It opened almost immediately. Had they seen him arrive from the window?
“Archie!” He hadn’t heard his childhood name in a very long time. He regarded the pretty, dainty brunette with the sparkling eyes, who opened her arms to embrace him.
“Hello, Serena.”
