Chapter Six

Anewspaper dropped unceremoniously on the table beside the leather club chair Silas occupied in the far back corner of his club, White's. Gavin Winscombe, Silas's oldest confidant and friend, sat next to him, his dark auburn hair falling over his forehead as he loomed over a map, studying it.

Silas, Gavin, and Derek had all attended Eton together, though the start of their friendship had been unusual. Gavin was an orphan, raised by an ancient aunt in Scotland who had brought him up alone after the tragic loss of his parents to a bout of scarlet fever. Gavin had taken ill as well, but he had survived, even though it had left him with weak lungs. When he reached school age, the other boys at Eton had singled him out for being different as children so often do.

Silas and Derek had happened upon Gavin and another student in an all-out brawl and had tried to separate them, when Gavin turned his frustrations on them. Soon the other student had disappeared, leaving the three fighting each other until they were eventually sent to the headmaster's office, where he had demanded to know who had started the fight. None of them had been willing to inform against the others and thus had been compelled to suffer their punishments together. A bond had been formed then and for the remainder of their school years, the three had been inseparable.

Gavin was set to leave in a few weeks for a six-month tour of the continent and had made a point of meeting Silas that afternoon to discuss routes and people to visit while on his journey. He had just decided on stopping on the Greek island of Skopelos when the newspaper landed with a flourish on the table. Several men seated at tables nearby turned their heads to see who had tossed the publication.

Silas looked up and saw Derek Trembley's serious face, standing over him. He was obviously waiting for Silas to react.

"Uh-oh," Gavin said leaning back, a concerned look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Have you read this?" Derek asked, nodding to the newspaper.

Sighing, Silas leaned over the table and saw that it was folded open to display a gossip column, which held little interest for him. Leaning back, he glanced back at his friend.

"I see nothing worth discussing," he said.

"‘Divorced Duke's Deal,'" Derek said, taking a seat opposite of Silas and Gavin. "It's all anyone is talking about."

Silas peered past Derek to a group of young men that were speaking animatedly across the room. There was one man standing in front of a group of four others, using his hands to describe something or other. Another man with light hair and an easy smile turned just then and caught Silas's eye. His grin instantly faded.

Clearing his throat, Silas turned away, trying to push down the beginning of his irrational panic. He knew logically that there was nothing to be anxious about, but his body reacted of its own accord. It seemed that even at White's he couldn't fully control his problem.

"What?" Gavin said, leaning forward to pick up the paper, reading the title. "They're talking about the writer's ghastly use of alliteration?"

"Yes, Winscombe, that," Derek said sarcastically. "Not about the egregious bet placed at my home—"

"Your own fault for inviting Dilworth," Gavin interrupted.

"—and the consequences thereafter," he continued, appearing annoyed. He turned to Silas. "Now that poor Woodvine girl is getting raked over the coals for it."

Silas glanced up, irritated.

"Why? She was the victim in all of it. I'd say she's the only one in the whole mess who can claim to be blameless."

"Perhaps, but it seems she had a bit of a falling out with Dilworth's new fiancée."

"His what?" Silas asked, picking the paper out of Gavin's hand.

He read the horrendous article, detailing a very public scene that took place a few days earlier in Hyde Park. Miss Woodvine and some girl named Bettina Moppet had argued publicly while others watched. Supposedly, Miss Woodvine cried loudly and stomped her feet while Miss Moppet fainted from the entire ordeal.

Silas was suspicious. The entire article made Clara out to be some sort of wild, hysterical creature, even going so far as to call out her humble beginnings as the reason for her graceless outburst.

Silas didn't think she was graceless. She could be somewhat proud and a bit annoying, but she hadn't been hysterical. Hell, she had witnessed her fiancé use her as collateral and then had calmly told an entire room of peers that they should be ashamed of themselves before leaving without so much as a whimper.

Whoever the author of this article was, they obviously did not know Clara Woodvine. Silas suspected that someone had paid off the reporter to paint Clara in a bad light. But then why had the Divorced Duke title been used?

Reading further, the article went on to detail how Lord Dilworth had been bullied into making a deal with the devil himself, Combe, who had demanded Dilworth use his own fiancée to pay his gambling debts. Silas rolled his eyes. It was certain that this writer was in debt to Dilworth somehow, as it went on and on about Combe's rumored treacherousness.

He tossed the paper back on the table, where Gavin quickly snatched it back up.

"It's a crock and you know it," Silas said, his voice strained. "You saw her at that card table. She wasn't some shrill banshee. She was calm and collected. Furious too, as she had every right to be, but she wasn't hysterical." He nodded his head towards the paper in Gavin's hand. "Dilworth must have paid for this article. Or perhaps his new fiancée footed the bill, knowing he doesn't have two pence to rub together."

"Perhaps the writer owed Dilworth a favor. Either way, it was a shame I couldn't make it to that card game," Gavin said, his eyes scanning the paper as he spoke. "I should have very much liked to witness Miss Woodvine's speech."

"Yes, why didn't you make it?" Silas asked, ignoring Derek's disgruntled face. "You never miss a Trembley ball."

"I had to visit my uncle," Gavin said, shaking his head as he looked down. "The old fool wanted me to attend some dreary house party this summer, but I informed him that I was going to be away." He waved his hand in the air. "It doesn't matter."

Silas eyed Gavin for a moment, wondering if he was being vague on purpose when he turned to see Derek glaring.

"You told him what Miss Woodvine said?"

"He was going to find out anyway apparently," Silas said, nodding to the newspaper. "That article is rubbish. You know as well as I Dilworth is to blame. This writer is compromised."

"It doesn't matter. This is now what everyone will see as the truth. What does it matter that a dozen or so people witnessed something else? Now hundreds of thousands of people have read what they will take to be the real story," the earl said, shaking his head. "What are you going to do?"

Silas frowned.

"About what?"

"About all of it," Derek said, gesturing to the paper. "Your honor is in question."

"That is certainly true," Gavin said, returning his attention to his map.

"My honor was signed away with my divorce, if you recall," he said, exasperation boiling up. "I've no say of how people think of me, and I do not care."

"That is certainly not true," Gavin added.

"Don't you have a boat to catch?" Silas snapped at Gavin.

"Not until the end of the month," he answered, his white teeth flashing.

"So that's it?" Derek asked. "Dilworth wins?"

"Wins what?" Silas asked honestly. "Some second-rate wife who will soon find out that the only reason the blackguard married her was because of her money? Why should I care about that?"

"You cared when Miss Woodvine was Dilworth's victim."

Silas stilled. Derek had him there. He had cared when Clara had been involved, but for the life of him, he couldn't understand why. The mention of her set Silas's extremities tingling. The kiss they had shared had set his blood on fire and he had been hard pressed to remember a time when he had felt such need. He had thought of little else since then and now that it seemed she was in a bit of a public scandal, he had to beat down the masculine urge to come to her rescue.

"And see what trouble it's brought me. Believe me, I will not repeat my mistake," he said coolly. "Let these fools cry foul and be entertainment to the masses. I will not participate."

It was Silas's greatest aggravation to be written about, but he had learned the last time that the more he protested, the more the gossip came. He knew now that it was wisest to ignore such fodder.

Silas could feel both men watching him and while it aggravated him greatly, he remained quiet until Gavin spoke.

"A shame about poor Miss Woodvine. She'll likely not have any peace now."

A moment of silence followed before he spoke.

"Why not?" he asked in spite of himself.

"Well, she's an heiress and a poor judge of character it seems." Gavin shook his head as he leaned forward. He picked up a crystal glass, half full of amber liquid and took a sip before continuing. "She'll likely be sought after by ever indebted man in England now that Dilworth doesn't have a claim to her."

"Her family should take her out of London then," Derek said. That earned the earl a contemptuous glare from Silas. "She obviously doesn't fit in to town life. She'd probably be better suited as the wife to some country squire or a vicar."

"With her coin?" Gavin said, disbelieving. "Not likely. No, she'll probably be married within the month to some poor, enterprising peer. He'll find her, comfort her, tell her that she has been wronged—"

"She has been wronged," Silas interrupted.

"—and since she seems to lack the insight to determine between friend and foe, I have no doubt that Miss Woodvine will end up shackled to some spendthrift before the season ends."

Gavin shrugged his shoulders as if expressing that it made little difference to him while Silas seethed at his words. She didn't lack insight. She had merely trusted the wrong people at the wrong time. Anyone who had been thrust into a new world might have made the same mistake. Hell, he had made that mistake and he had far more experience than Clara.

It shouldn't matter to him if one poor man or another bothered her, but it did make him feel uncomfortably protective. Perhaps he should do something, to stave off the penniless peers who would undoubtedly harass her over the coming weeks. Besides, she was technically already spoken for.

"What did you say?" Derek said, his brow raising.

Silas's gaze lifted at the question, unaware that he had mumbled his last thought out loud. When he realized what he had said, he coughed.

"Nothing," he insisted, shaking his head, but Gavin was staring at him with a curious glint in his eye. He squinted at his friend.

"You think she belongs to you, don't you?" Gavin said slowly, more like a statement than a question. "Because of the bet."

Silas felt his skin grow warm at the accusation.

"That's absurd. I do not."

"But you do," he said, leaning forward. "You think because you won her—"

"I didn't win her—"

"—that you have some sort of claim to her."

"Surely not, Combe," Derek said, appearing alarmed. "The girl is not suitable. She was made for the country life and nothing more. Her mother was a maid, for heaven's sake. You wouldn't suit."

"You sound like a pretentious ass," Silas said.

"I'm merely pointing out that it would be illogical. Whether you appreciate it or not, you have to see that she isn't suitable."

"Why? Because the ladies of our social standings are such prizes?"

Derek's eyes went wide at his words.

"At the risk of sounding arrogant, yes."

"Really?" Silas asked, letting his temper finally flare. "And I suppose a well-bred lady, one born into privilege and stature would benefit me. The daughter of an earl perhaps, who had been coached and practiced in polite society her entire life. Someone whose performance at the pianoforte was once described as perfection? Who spoke French and German without a hint of an accent? Who was deemed the jewel of the season during her coming out? Perhaps someone like that would suit me better?" he said, describing in detail his previous wife.

Both Derek and Gavin shared an uneasy glance with one another, aware of who Silas was talking about. They obviously did not expect that reaction—and neither did Silas, who hadn't even planned on offering for anyone until that very moment.

What was wrong with him? He didn't care one ounce about Clara Woodvine and he had sworn to never marry again. Yes, there was some small, spiteful part of him that wondered about courting her, if only because she was the exact opposite of Cynthia, but he was hardly going to pursue such insanity.

"No, perhaps not that sort," Derek said slowly, his eyes cautiously on Silas. "But you have to know that you don't actually have a legitimate claim to the Woodvine girl, Silas. The bet does not hold up."

"Doesn't he?" Gavin chimed in, standing up all of a sudden. "Dilworth did ask to use her as collateral and no objections were made."

"I objected," Silas said.

Gavin shook his head.

"But you relented."

"She wasn't Dilworth's to bet," Derek argued. "He had no legitimate claim to her."

"Except that he did," Gavin tried. "He was set to announce their engagement that very night, wasn't he? It was the entire reason he had been invited by your brother." Gavin turned to Silas. "If he won, how much would you have owed him?"

"Several thousand pounds," Silas answered.

"And would you have paid him if you lost?"

"Of course."

"Then as far as wagers go, it sounds like if anyone has a claim on Miss Woodvine, it would be you, Combe."

"This is preposterous," Derek said. "You can't bet people."

"No," Silas agreed. "You can't."

"And you can't court a woman so very obvious your opposite."

Silas turned to his friend and let out a huff.

"What a hypocrite you are."

Derek's eyes rounded.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You just said that it was preposterous to use people yet in the same breath state that Miss Woodvine isn't worthy of being pursued."

"Yes, and?"

"Well, what is it? Is she a person of worth or not?"

"I…" Derek began before his mouth closed. Silas and Gavin waited for a moment before Derek clucked his teeth. "Very well. I see your point. But what do you even know about her besides her father's business dealings?"

Silas considered that. The truth was that he didn't know very much about Clara Woodvine, only that she seemed to be the mirror opposite of his ex-wife. She was forward and spoke with a refreshing practicality that made him curious to know more of her opinions. She didn't cower, but then she hadn't seemed particularly cruel either, much unlike his last wife.

Silas had no wish to ever be connected to another female again, but the idea of Clara being insulted irritated him beyond reasonability. He should do something. Her image had plagued his mind for days and the more he thought about her, the more he wondered if he might be able to perhaps alleviate some of the unwanted attention she was getting.

"She is attractive," he said lowly, to no one in particular. "Her wit is sharper than most."

"A strangely beautiful creature, from what I hear," Gavin said, pressing the issue.

"Why are you so interested in Combe's love life?" Derek asked Gavin suspiciously.

"Why aren't you?" Gavin countered. "He's been through hell, hasn't he?"

"Yes but—"

"And he's been locked away for the better part of a year dealing with, well," Gavin said, avoiding Silas's eyes. "Whatever it is that he's been dealing with."

Silas snorted humorlessly. He had confided in both Derek and Gavin the panic he felt at the idea of being in public places other than White's. Derek flexed his fists, obviously uncomfortable with Gavin's mentioning it.

"To be honest, I find her rather frustrating, but my… problem… Well, it seems to fade when I'm in her presence."

Though he kept his eyes on the corner of the table in front of him, he sensed both men were staring at him.

"Is that so?" Derek said after a long pause.

"Yes. I'm sure it's because she's more annoying than anything, but I did notice that I didn't have any trouble when I went to her home to offer my apologies."

Gavin's hands shot up.

"Well now, that seems reason enough to, at the very least, investigate this woman. Besides, you've been badgering him to make a return to society, Derek. Knowing how difficult it is for a divorced person to traverse through life, I see no reason why he shouldn't at least get to know this Woodvine woman," Gavin concluded as he sat back down, leaning into his chair. "Combe won her, after all."

Derek gawked between the two men, appearing utterly confused.

"You cannot seriously be considering this, Silas."

"Calm down, no one is getting betrothed," he said. "Gavin's just trying to annoy you."

Gavin grinned and while Derek did seem to settle after that, Silas couldn't shake a budding idea from his mind. Perhaps he could use Miss Woodvine and her distracting personality to better his own situation. If he could spend some time with her, he would have the opportunity to perhaps see if her presence could somewhat deafen his anxieties. It would certainly be worth investigating. Maybe he could finally bring some amount of peace to his life once more. And it wouldn't hurt her reputation if it was reported that she had caught the attention of a duke. Scandal-ridden though he was, his title still carried weight. It could provide her with some protection.

Perhaps they could help each other? He needed to speak with Clara again and soon.