Chapter Eleven

S ilas skipped breakfast. He had no appetite for food or conversation. He lazed about in bed, not wanting to get up.

A knock at the door forced him to rise. He climbed from the bed and opened the door, seeing his valet on the other side.

"I was worried, my lord," the anxious servant said. "When you didn't summon me to dress you this morning, I thought..." His voice trailed off.

"You thought what?" he asked.

The valet looked at him sheepishly. "I hope I am not speaking out of turn, my lord. I know you are one for the ladies."

"You thought I had some chit in my bed—or that I was in another bed?" he demanded, the thought of being with anyone but Lyric making him queasy.

"I did," the servant admitted. "Then you missed breakfast, and I thought you might be catching up on your sleep. But it is almost time for the picnic to start at the lake, Lord Blankenship. You must go to it," the valet insisted.

"You are right. Set out clothes for me at once."

"Right away, my lord."

The valet hummed to himself as he went about preparing Silas for the day. He had brought hot water along and shaved Silas before helping him to dress. As always, he looked just right for the occasion. Today, he wore a bottle green coat, fawn breeches, white shirt, a white and gold brocaded waistcoat, and a cravat tied to perfection.

"Your hat, my lord," the servant said, handing it over to Silas. "I hope you enjoy the picnic, my lord. The kitchens have been busy for hours preparing the food."

"Take the rest of the day off," he said generously. "I will not need your help to dress this evening.

"What... what do you mean, my lord?" the servant sputtered.

"What I said. I am a grown man. I can change my shirt without your assistance. Flirt with one of the maids. Go on a picnic of your own."

"Why.... thank you, Lord Blankenship. That is most generous of you."

Silas watched his valet leave and then went downstairs, where he ran into Carroll.

"I assume you are headed to the picnic," the earl said. "Would you care to go together?"

They set out for the lake, with Silas saying, "I am surprised you are attending the picnic. You have certainly made yourself scarce lately. I thought you had decided to return to town."

"I had wanted to," Carroll admitted. "But then some man I used to call friend scolded me like a schoolboy, telling me it was the wrong thing to do if I wanted to try and win back the woman I love."

"Have you a plan?" he asked. "To convince Miss Allegra you are the man for her?"

Silas wasn't above stealing any idea which might give him another chance with Lyric. Then he chastised himself, telling himself he would never be the man for her and reminding himself to keep his distance from her for the remainder of the house party. He already had formulated his plan, and that was to pluck a wallflower and have a meaningless ton marriage.

"I do," his old friend said with confidence. "I think you, too, should come up with your own measure to persuade Miss Lyric that you are meant to be together."

"I will not be doing so," Silas said stiffly. "I will choose a bride from those on the Marriage Mart next Season."

Carroll halted. "You are a gutless dolt, Blankenship."

"I suppose I am," he agreed tonelessly, continuing to walk.

The earl caught up with him. "You cannot mean what you say, Silas."

"I am not the man Lyric needs," he said frankly. "She is the most heavenly creature ever placed upon this earth. I am not worthy of her."

"So, you will wed and bed to get your heir—and spend the rest of your life pining for her," Carroll said flatly.

"Yes," he said, his throat feeling as if someone had rammed their fist down it.

"I have written a love poem for Allegra," the earl suddenly announced. "It's bloody good. I only hope it is good enough to convey the depth of my love for her."

His words startled Silas. "You wrote a poem. You."

"Yes. Me. I write poetry. It is something I have always kept to myself. Now, you know."

He stopped and placed his hand on Carroll's shoulder. "I think the effort alone will convince Miss Allegra to take you back. That—and you saying the words she longs to hear."

"I can say them," Carroll said stubbornly. "I even practiced before the mirror." He paused. "And if I say them, you can, too, Silas."

"But I won't," he said stubbornly. "I told you. I am unworthy of Lyric and her love. She needs to meet a man who can—"

"Who can what?" the earl demanded. "You are plenty good enough for her, and you bloody well know it. If I can be good enough for Allegra, you most certainly can be for Lyric. You are a better man than I am, Silas. You always have been. You simply need to believe in yourself more. Believe in you and Lyric together."

He dropped his hand. "I will not ruin her life."

"But you will ruin your own—and the woman you take to wife?"

He shrugged. "She will not care. She will become a viscountess and lack for nothing. She will have her friends and do the things she chooses to do. I will get my heir."

"And you will be miserable."

"Very much so," he agreed. "But it gives Lyric the chance to find someone else. Yes, she is hurt now, but she will recover. She has all those Strongs surrounding her, bolstering her. When the rest of her family returns to Shadowcrest, she will have even more support. Now, leave me be, Carroll. Go read your love poetry to Miss Allegra. Truly, I wish you the best. I hope she will forgive you."

Silas strode off, the ache inside him so intense, he almost doubled over in pain. He did want what was best for his old friend and Allegra Strong. If Carroll had summoned the courage to write a love poem, of all things, he could also say those words to Miss Allegra.

The picnic showed him just how out of place he was. Six of the guests had obviously formed strong attachments. Envy filled him as he saw Lady Lida with Lord Motley and his young daughter, already looking like a family. They ate their meal spread on a blanket, Miss Allegra with them. Miss Markle and Lord Lamkin paired off, sitting on a blanket by themselves. Miss Bancroft and Lord Tillings sat at a table with Lord and Lady Crowell and the elder Miss Bancroft and Lyric. The remaining table held the Duke and Duchess of Seaton and Captain and Mrs. Andrews.

He had no place to sit and no reason to be here.

He decided to walk around the lake instead. No one would miss him. Silas set off, finding the scenery beautiful despite his misery. He sat on a large rock, feeling sorry for himself, staying away a good two hours before he started back. When he did, he saw a couple of rowboats on the lake. Motley had taken out Lady Lida and Lady Viola, while Lord Carroll and Miss Allegra sat in another. He saw them kissing and knew the earl's love poem must have worked its magic.

Deep down, Sterling Ayles was a good man. He wore a mask in Polite Society, much as Silas had his entire life. No one knew the true men behind those masks. He gathered Allegra Strong would get to know all of Sterling and love him even more. Silas would never begrudge or resent his friend for turning over a new leaf. It only made him sorrowful to know he would never be close to Sterling again. No more working their way through the female population of London. Sterling would be faithful to the Strong he wed. Of that, Silas had no doubt.

He watched as Lord Tillings helped Miss Bancroft to maneuver a fishing rod. Lord Lamkin did the same with Miss Markle. Even across the lake, their laughter carried.

Never had he been more miserable. Silas plopped on the ground, determined to wait out the happy couples. It was another two hours before everyone left the area, leaving a bevy of servants to retrieve the tables and chairs and cart them and the blankets and remaining food back to Shadowcrest. Following at a distance, he decided he would speak to the Seatons tonight and leave Kent in the morning.

Slowly, he walked toward Shadowcrest. He would carry many memories of this place with him. He would certainly use what he had learned from Lyric about gardening and spend time with his own gardeners at Chase Oaks. Every time he worked in the dirt, he would remember the woman who held his heart.

He had no doubt that she would attend next Season. Because of that, he rethought going himself. Instead, he would take time to get to know his neighbors in the country. Surely one of them would have a daughter of marriageable age. He could wed her quietly and remain in the country, never having to set eyes on Lyric again. Yes, that would be best. Marry a country girl and tell her he had no taste for city life.

Silas returned to the house and his bedchamber, peeling off his clothes and slipping into his banyan. He rang for hot water, and a servant brought it to him so he could wash the heat of the day from him. He had heard Mrs. Andrews say since they would be at the lake so long today, they would forego tea and simply meet in the drawing room this evening before dinner as usual.

He washed and dressed, sitting quietly in a chair, knowing this would be his last night with the Strongs. Maybe he could forget Lyric. Try to make a go of a marriage. He knew he wanted children and that he planned to spend time with them, teaching the boys to ride and fish. He supposed he could also teach any girls the same things. Resolve filled him. He would have a quiet life and do the best he could to make his children feel wanted and loved.

When the time came, he made his way down to the drawing room, joining Lord Motley and Lady Lida and her parents. By the way Lady Lida glowed, Silas would not be surprised if a betrothal announcement was forthcoming.

"Viola was certainly tired," Lord Motley said. "It was quite an adventurous day for her. I took her to the nursery when we returned from the lake, and she could barely hold her head up to eat her milk and bread. By the time I left, she was already fast asleep."

"She told me that she wants a cat," Lady Lida shared. "That she had seen one in the barn. A mother cat with kittens. Perhaps you might ask His Grace if you could claim one for her when it is weaned from its mother."

Lord Motley smiled. "I can never say no to Viola—or you." The look in his eyes made Silas turn away so that no one could see how much he hurt.

The butler announced dinner, and he found himself sitting with Mrs. Andrews and her husband. Though Silas had always thought he had a talent for telling a tale, he appeared as an amateur compared to this man.

They were finished with the fish course when the captain said, "My wife tells me you were interested in Lyric."

It startled him to have it spoken of so openly. "Unfortunately, it was not meant to be."

"You offered for her," Captain Andrews said boldly. "You must have seen a future with our girl."

"I did—at one time," he admitted. "But Miss Lyric and I had differing opinions on exactly what a marriage should be, Captain. Because of it, she is free to pursue a different kind of man."

The former sea captain scratched his chin in thought. "You don't believe love has a place in marriage?"

"No," he said coolly, his gaze daring Andrews to continue the conversation.

"You're a hard-headed fool," the captain said dismissively, turning to his left to speak with the elder Miss Bancroft.

"He means well," Mrs. Andrews said. "He is very concerned about Lyric. So am I." She searched his face. "I am also concerned about you, Lord Blankenship."

"Do not be, Mrs. Andrews. I am fine," he assured her.

When fine was the last thing he was.

Dinner finally ended, and the men partook in their usual cigars and brandy. Silas put his out after only a few puffs, finding it tasteless. He did down the brandy, however, needing the courage it would provide to tell His Grace that he would be leaving the house party early. He hoped to get both Their Graces alone for a moment in the drawing room so he could so.

"Shall we join our ladies?" the duke asked, and the men rose from the table.

Silas found himself bringing up the rear of the group, the last to enter the drawing room. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed a few footmen following him into the room, seeing they carried trays with champagne flutes. He had been right. Lord Motley would announce his betrothal to Lady Lida this evening.

Glancing to Lord Carroll, he saw the earl stood beside Miss Allegra, his hand on the small of her back. The pair looked quite cozy. Perhaps there might even be two engagements announced tonight. When he spied Caleb Strong in the room, he knew he must be right. The Shadowcrest steward had not made a habit of joining them for dinner. His presence indicted that his sister's betrothal announcement would now occur.

"May I have your attention?" His Grace asked, and the room fell quiet. The duke slipped an arm around his duchess' waist. "We have some very good news to share this evening with our guests."

Silas took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He braced himself, knowing his practiced smile would come in handy during the next few minutes.

"I wish to wed Miss Bancroft," Lord Tillings blurted out suddenly.