Chapter Twenty

Silas spent much of the night demonstrating to Clara just how much she meant to him. But even as she slept—sated and relaxed—by his side, his mind seemed to refuse him any sort of peace and so he woke before the sun rose. He had been so sure about his own heart up until yesterday, but even with his growing relationship with Clara, he couldn't help but think he had been wrong from the beginning.

His friendship with Clara had become the most important thing in his life. While he didn't want to ruin it by falling in love, an act he thought impossible, he couldn't help but have feelings for her. Feelings he had never actually felt before. Feelings of security. Of comfort. Not once could either of those words have described his relationship with Cynthia, which made him wonder if perhaps he had never really loved her to begin with.

His steps slowed as the realization dawned on him. Had he ever really loved anyone before?

Surely he had. The sheer amount of passion and excitable fury that had boiled between him and Cynthia had to have been love. It had been intoxicating and painful. Yet even now as he considered it, the memory of those emotions seemed dull and unfocused. Compared to his feelings for Clara… well, the whole experience was completely different. Clara was warm and kind, and it was always a pleasure to be in her presence, even if she baffled him more often than not. She was constantly surprising him with her startling honest and unique perspective.

With Clara, their lovemaking was endearing and poignant. With Cynthia it had been furious and excruciating. While the sexual pleasure he'd shared with Cynthia had been exciting in the moment, he could see looking back on it that passion of that sort was destined to burn itself out. But what he shared with Clara… well, that was something he wanted more than he'd realized.

Clara was the only woman he wanted.

Having woken too late to join the hunt, and finding that he wasn't particularly interested in joining the baron that morning, Silas instead decided to take breakfast on the terrace, where the servants had explained it would be served.

Upon exiting the house, the familiar scent of cheroot smoke wafted on the breeze, causing him to search his surroundings. It had been months since last he smoked, as he had realized Clara didn't particularly care for the smell of smoke on his skin and clothes.

Searching the terrace, his eyes spotted Lord Valle, whose back was turned to Silas as he looked over the western woods, hand on his hip, pushing back his grey tweed coat. In that moment, Silas realized how very similar he and Valle were. They were alike in height and stature and while their coloring was different, they shared similar shaped faces and an arrogance only one in their positions could be born with.

Valle turned then and saw Silas. His face was troubled for a moment before a cool smile came to his lips as he hid his expression.

How odd.

"Ah, your grace," Valle said, coming towards Silas. "I had hoped to see you."

The glint in the young man's eye made Silas both wary and annoyed.

"Whatever for?"

"Come now, let's not be enemies. Cynthia has told me quite a bit about you," he said, grinning. "I think we could be friends of sorts."

Silas was unimpressed. The lad was barely twenty-two, likely brand new to the sort of depravities Cynthia could show him and probably fancied himself something of a devilish rouge. Silas should scare him off, he thought as he rolled the cheroot in between his fingers. He took a step forward, deciding to demonstrate his own dominance.

"Perhaps we could be," Silas said, his voice velvety and low as he came to stand before him. "Perhaps I could make you beg like I made her beg." The young man's sneer faltered as his eyes flashed with both worry and wanting. "Is that what you mean, Lord Valle?"

"I would, um…" He coughed, bringing his fist up to his mouth. "I mean," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Yes. That's exactly what she wants."

Silas gave him a pitying glance.

"Yes, it's always about whatever she wants, isn't it?" he said, shaking his head. "Where did she find you?"

"Excuse me?"

"She must have seemed quite enrapturing. She was to me when we first began our affair. But I assure you, Lord Valle, you will not find your peace with her."

The young lord sneered.

"Much that you know about it. She's the only person in my whole world who accepts me."

Valle was angry, but it didn't hide the pain that crossed his face. Yes, Silas was sure Cynthia accepted him, but it wouldn't be the sort of life he hoped it would be.

"But only because she can get you to do her bidding," Silas challenged. "You shouldn't have to settle for that."

"What do you know about it?" the young man argued. "You couldn't understand what it's like."

Silas couldn't and he did not envy the position the young man was in. Although, as a man who was not restricted by gender when it came to his attractions, he wouldn't tell anyone else how or what to do with their lives. He only meant to warn him away from the devil herself.

"There are people who would accept you, Lord Valle. People who might care for you, as you are. Regardless of what you can do for them."

"I've never met one," he said bitterly.

Silas sighed.

"Perhaps you should keep searching," he said as he left the young man alone, but before he could go, he felt Valle's hand wrap around his wrist.

Having rarely been touched by anyone, Silas gave him a sharp glare, which caused the young man to release him. But when he spoke, Valle's voice was low.

"She wants you back. She means to do what she can to get you."

"She can go to hell."

Valle shook his head.

"You don't understand, Combe. She's obsessed. It's all she's talked about since learning about your marriage. Our engagement was decided on so that we could return to England. My father finds me, shall we say, undesirable, while Cynthia wasn't aware just how ostracized she would be following her divorce. But our coming here? It was at her insistence."

Silas squinted at him and saw the young man's fa?ade drop for a moment. In an instant, he suspected that the young lord was growing tired of his game with Cynthia, a feeling Silas knew all too well himself.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Valle shook his head.

"I… I don't know exactly," he said. "But just know that she won't stop."

Silas looked at the young man for a long time before nodding and walking away. Leave it to Cynthia to engage a man with no support. It was a weak thing to do on her part, but then Silas was realizing that Cynthia was nothing if not cunning.

Regardless, he didn't wish to think about Cynthia's motives. The time had come for Clara and Violet's play, and he was determined to give it his full attention.

Upon entering the parlor, Silas saw that the guests had begun to take their seats. He made his way to an empty settee that stood towards the back and took a seat. Without failure, Cynthia entered the parlor just as his knees bent and she made her way straight towards him, as several heads turned to watch. She seated herself next to him. Silas wanted very much to leave but he remained, strictly to show he wouldn't be chased as the play began.

To his surprise, Violet and Fredrick did an excellent job portraying two people in love. An observer never would have guessed how much they disliked one another. Silas had half a mind to tell his sister that she might have a career on the stage should she ever be desperate enough to need one, but all thoughts of praise fled from his mind when Cynthia leaned ever so slightly towards him.

Her hand wandered to the side of his hip as she tried to get his attention. Annoyed that she would try something so publicly, he shifted away from her, but she only grew more brazen. Her fingers gently found the hem of his pants pocket. Without thinking, he silently grabbed her hand and squeezed her fingers together tightly before glaring at her. Cynthia's eyes fluttered closed, her mouth open slightly, as if she were enjoying his biting grip.

As the scene ended, everyone stood and cheered except for him and Cynthia. Turning his attention to the front of the room, his eyes caught Clara's, whose face dropped at the sight of them sitting together with their hands joined.

Blast.Silas dropped Cynthia's hand and stood, making his way towards Clara. Unfortunately, it seemed she wasn't interested in hearing his explanation.

"Please, Silas, not here," Clara whispered fiercely as she turned away from him.

"Clara," he said, his tone pleading, which caused her to pause—but only for a moment.

A beat later, she peeled away from him quite easily, and Silas watched her as she disappeared in the crowd.