This meant that the only real obstacle was Xenia herself. How could he get her to agree to marry him when she wouldn’t even commit to staying? How could he prove to her that he would protect her against whatever she was running from?
As he sipped whisky and brooded upon the matter, he saw that Canning was now monopolizing Xenia’s attention. They were standing close—too close—together, and Canning had one arm propped on a bookshelf while he bent his dark head toward Xenia. A gentleman used this debonair posture to convey his interest and display himself to an advantage. Ethan knew this because he’d adopted that exact bloody stance himself with Xenia.
“Fine evening, eh?” Parkhurst settled into an adjacent chair, two glasses in hand.
Taking the fresh drink, Ethan threw it back and set the empty glass next to the others.
Parkhurst arched a brow. “Are we having that drinking contest after all, old boy?”
“I have learned not to accept challenges I cannot win.”
“Mayhap we should have a different sort of wager then?”
Seeing the wicked grin on Parkhurst’s face, Ethan rolled his eyes. “If this involves a brothel, prizefight, or dice, the answer is no. When it comes to debauchery, you are unbeatable.”
“We must all have our talents.” Parkhurst patted himself on the shoulder. “Very well, I shall have to come up with another kind of distraction. Although, come to think of it, maybe we should enjoy the peace and quiet. God knows there’s been enough brouhaha of late. Any news from the constable?”
“The latest is that Rawlins is tracking down Dobson Gill, the footman who worked here. Gill seems to have gone missing. Although he paid a month’s rent, no one has seen him at his boarding house in Cookham for days.”
“Interesting.” Parkhurst sipped his drink. “You don’t think that Gill or that Corrigan fellow is truly dangerous, do you? This is all a bit of mischief?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
Through narrowed eyes, Ethan watched Xenia nod enthusiastically at something Canning said. At her animated response, Canning drew out a pencil and notebook from his pocket and jotted something down.
“But you do think we are safe here?” Parkhurst pressed.
“The guards offer security, but I cannot guarantee anything. If you wish to leave?—”
“No, no. It’s not me I am worried about.”
Parkhurst glanced at Gigi, who was massacring a Mozart serenade.
“I’ll look after Gigi…” Ethan trailed off. “What in blazes are those two talking about?”
“Canning and Mrs. Wood?” Parkhurst glanced at the pair. “I’ve no idea. Something related to writing, probably, since that is all Canning cares about. As I was saying, if you need someplace to go, I do have that cottage in the Cotswolds…”
Ethan lost track of the rest, stuck on what Parkhurst had said about Canning and writing. Didn’t Xenia mention that the follower she’d been head over heels for had also been a writer? Ethan felt something burn in his gut, and it wasn’t just the whisky he’d consumed. It was a feeling of intense and uncomfortable déjà vu.
This exact scenario had happened to him before.
Constance and Blake had always been friendly. In fact, they’d had a shared love of poetry, and Ethan should have guessed his ex-fiancée’s true feelings when he found her reading a volume of Blake’s love sonnets, looking uncharacteristically flustered. She’d said that she found Blake’s work a bit too earthy, and Ethan, fool that he was, had believed her.
Fool me once.
Ethan set his glass on the table, with enough force to make the other glasses rattle.
“Is something amiss?” Parkhurst asked.
“Everything’s fine,” he said curtly. “Since I left London, what has Canning been up to?”
Looking puzzled by the non sequitur, Parkhurst replied, “The usual. He works by day and carouses by night.”
“Is there anyone in particular he carouses with? Females, I mean.”
Is the bastard setting his sights on my lover? On my futurebride?
“You know Canning.” Parkhurst rolled his eyes. “His equanimity acts like a magnet when it comes to the ladies. They believe he will take to domesticity like a fish to water, not realizing he’s as rakish as the rest of us.”
