4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

S ilas entered the Vaughn ballroom three days later and immediately searched for Lady Prudence. Or rather, Prue , as she'd suggested he call her. The shortened version of her name fit her perfectly, hinting at the depth of personality beneath her shy fa?ade.

That she'd granted him permission for the informal name suggested they were friends, something he treasured. In truth, he had many acquaintances but few true friends. He gave himself a mental shake, certain he was making too much of the situation, yet he couldn't help himself.

Her offer to speak to her uncle on his behalf had stunned him, especially when he hadn't made good on his own offer to dance with her. He'd hardly known what to say when she'd made the suggestion.

Arthur Harrison was well known for his innovative investments. Silas wouldn't have thought to try to gain the man's attention if not for Prue. That showed just how timid he'd been about seeing his idea through.

While anxious to speak with Mr. Harrison, Silas was also terrified. If the man dismissed his idea like Professor Ridley had, Silas didn't think he'd have the courage to pursue it any further. It would be the end of his dream.

Apparently, Silas's failure to ask Prue to dance had bothered her or she wouldn't have mentioned the ball. It had been on the tip of his tongue to tell her about the wager. Perhaps she would share word of it, ensuring Maynard's plan was foiled and none of the men involved would win.

But telling her meant confessing his own participation, something he wasn't proud of, especially since he couldn't help but wonder if some of the other wallflowers dismissed by the ton might be as interesting as Prue. Those in Society placed too much importance on superficial qualities like titles, money, and appearance, ignoring the person.

He realized he truly wanted to dance with her, certain it would be more than enjoyable. He liked being with her. With a smothered groan, he shook his head. The least he could do was admit the truth to himself. Prue appealed to him on every level—mind and body.

She was pretty, even more so the better he came to know her. Her intelligence was admirable, along with her obvious regard for her family. Even his grandmother liked Prue, and she found most ladies that age silly and thoughtless.

Lady Prudence was worth a second look, followed by a third. It was only after he'd spent time with her that he noted the gold flecks in her blue eyes, how her alabaster skin glowed with good health, and her lithe body stole into his dreams.

His gaze swept the ballroom, and he quickly found her speaking with several other ladies. The sight of her eased a tightness in his chest he hadn't realized was there.

He paused a moment to admire her appearance, finding it difficult to pull away his attention.

This evening, she wore a shimmering pale blue gown with dark pink trim. The small expanse of skin the gown's neckline revealed begged to be kissed. Her upswept hair brought the graceful line of her neck to his notice when she turned to speak with one of the ladies. The way she comported herself with poise and serenity caused his mouth to go dry and his palms to dampen.

Since when did demure young ladies catch his eye? The alarming question was enough to have him jerking away his gaze. He was not courting her, he reminded himself. Such a thing was out of the question. Their interactions were a result of his grandmother's birthday party and nothing more. Chances were that nothing would come of her speaking to her uncle about the windmill blade design if she had even remembered to do so.

In truth, he'd been able to think of little else since they last met. His mood had shifted between hope and despair that anything would come of her offer. No matter how many times he'd commanded himself to let the idea go, he couldn't quite manage it.

He started forward, telling himself he could relax once he heard whatever news she had to share and proceed with the evening.

The lady to whom Prue was speaking turned and glanced his way, eyes widening at the sight of his approach. Only then did he realize she was the one he'd danced with at the last ball. She must be Prue's cousin since they shared the same last name.

Hopefully, Miss Davies didn't think he intended to ask for another dance. Yet her expression filled with anticipation, causing his jaw to clench.

Blast the damned wager. Why had he ever agreed to it?

He shifted his gaze to Prue, who had also turned to watch him approach. A hint of a blush rose in her cheeks, a reminder that the evening was a social gathering requiring pleasantries and the like. He couldn't simply inquire whether she'd spoken to her uncle or ask about the man's response. Yet he realized his desire to speak with her wasn't merely because of her uncle. He liked her and the way he felt when he was with her.

He managed a smile despite the nerves racing through him as he drew to a halt before the ladies. "Good evening."

"How nice to see you again, Viscount Winstead," Miss Davies said.

"I hope the evening finds you well," Prue added.

"Indeed, it does." He glanced between the two of them. "And you?"

"Quite well," Miss Davies said, gloved hands clasped before her.

He looked around the ballroom but found nothing of note to remark upon when it was much like the others—too many people, too warm, and much the same crowd. No doubt the other men involved in the wager were here or soon would be. The thought had him scowling.

Though tempted to ask Prue to dance so they could speak in private, he didn't want to use her that way. Yet not asking her would surely hurt her feelings.

"I was hoping for a moment of your time this evening," Prue said before he determined the best way to proceed. "My uncle has several questions and would like to speak with you."

"Oh?" Silas's heart threatened to beat from his chest. "I would be happy to meet with him at his convenience." He hoped he sounded calm and rational as opposed to ecstatic. That would never do.

"Excellent." Prue nodded but said nothing more.

He frowned. Would he have to wait several more days before a meeting could be arranged? He didn't think he could bear it. Then again, what difference would it make when he'd already waited years for anyone to show interest? Never mind that he had told so few about it.

He risked a glance at Prue, wondering if she might be able to share when a meeting might occur or the extent of her uncle's interest.

A smile tugged at her lips and a sparkle lit her eyes. He had the strangest feeling she was teasing him with her silence.

Perhaps the lady wasn't as demure as he thought. That had him grinning as he waited to see if she'd say anything more.

"Would you be available to meet with him tomorrow afternoon at Brooks's? He mentioned he'd be there around three o'clock."

He pretended to consider the timing as if he wouldn't clear his entire schedule in order to make the meeting. "Yes, I believe that should work."

A glance at her cousin showed she'd turned away to speak with someone else, leaving them alone in the crowd. "Thank you very much, Prue." He held her gaze. "I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate it."

"You are welcome. He said he was quite intrigued by the premise of your design."

Before Silas could ask for details, Viscount Maynard joined them. "Good evening, Winstead."

"Maynard."

The man's dark eyes shifted to Prue, his gaze holding on her overlong. While some ladies might have preened under his regard, Prue looked decidedly uncomfortable. Her cousin turned and stared at Maynard as if surprised by his presence.

Silas could hazard a guess as to why the viscount had sought them out.

Silas reluctantly offered an introduction to Prue and her cousin, willing the viscount to be satisfied and walk away. But of course, he didn't.

"A wonderful ball, don't you think?" the lord asked as he glanced around the room. He was slightly shorter than Silas, a diamond signet ring flashing on his finger. With dark hair and a cool demeanor, he always seemed to view others as if they were beneath him, including Silas.

Miss Davies lifted her chin as if refusing to be intimidated. "It is, yes."

Prue sent a questioning look at Silas, seeming to wonder why Maynard had chosen to join them.

The way Miss Davies kept looking at Maynard out of the corner of her eye suggested she would accept an offer to dance without a second thought. The lady had to be several years older than Prue. Perhaps desperation for a match was taking hold.

Why was it that some ladies saw immediate success their first Season and others did not? While appearance and fortunes played a part, there seemed to be more to it. Miss Davies might not tempt him, but she was attractive enough. Their brief conversation during their dance had been pleasant. That Prue and her cousin remained unattached was puzzling.

Had some event in their past made them unappealing? He rarely attended balls until the wager and didn't keep abreast of gossip.

Regardless, Silas didn't like that his presence had brought the two ladies to Maynard's attention. The man wasn't good enough for either of them as far as Silas was concerned. And he hated to think Maynard would use them to win the wager.

But that was obviously the reason he was there, attempting to make conversation.

Silas longed to tell the viscount what he could do with the ridiculous wager but held back. Beggars couldn't be choosers. If he won, the money would help to either create a prototype or pay debts while he attempted to catch the interest of an heiress.

He looked at Prue, wishing not for the first time that she was one as she captivated him in an unexpected way that he longed to explore. Preferably with less clothing than either of them wore tonight. "Have you enjoyed your time in London thus far?" Silas asked her, ignoring Maynard.

"It is always pleasant to be with family."

Maynard cleared his throat as if annoyed their conversation didn't involve him. He leaned closer to Prue's cousin to catch her attention. "May I request the honor of a dance?"

Miss Davies beamed. "I would be delighted."

Maynard gave Silas a smug smile before offering his arm to Miss Davies.

"Surely the viscount won't ask me to dance, will he?" Prue asked in a quiet voice, her face pale.

"I couldn't say." Silas attempted to mask his annoyance at the situation that had nothing to do with her but might hurt her in the end.

If Maynard did, it wouldn't count toward the wager since he was already dancing with Miss Davies, but from what Randolph had told him, Maynard was dancing with several wallflowers at each ball with the hope they would agree to a later dance when it suited him.

In Silas's eyes, that would only further raise the hope of the unfortunate ladies.

He glanced at Prue, dismayed to find her expression pinched. "Is all well?"

"Yes, thank you." When he continued to look at her, certain she wasn't telling the truth, she added, "I confess that I do not care for men like him."

"How do you mean?" he asked. She couldn't know the viscount well when they'd just been introduced.

"In all honesty, he looks like a rogue."

Silas raised a brow. "Do rogues have a particular look?" While he knew Maynard to be one, he was curious what a sheltered lady such as Prue saw, especially since he, himself, had been called one numerous times.

Prue blushed, those long lashes fluttering down to hide her eyes. "Jaded and empty." She sounded almost breathless. "As if nothing in the world is amusing anymore." Those lashes swept up and her eyes met his. The emotion in them pulled at him, tightening the connection he felt with her.

"That sounds quite accurate," he admitted.

"I think it's tragic."

"How so?" He had never thought of Maynard as such.

"The world is not here for our amusement. People shouldn't be used on a whim. If men like him put their wealth and power to good use instead of merely for entertainment..." Her brow furrowed as she considered her words. "Think of how much better our lives would be."

He slowly nodded as he pondered her words. "True."

"The viscount and those like him would be happier for having a meaningful purpose other than their own enjoyment." Her gaze held on him. "Like you do."

Her words struck him directly in the chest. Did that mean she didn't see him as someone like Maynard? "I'm not certain I can claim that." After all, it wasn't as if he'd truly pursued his passion.

"It seems to me that you could if you wished to." The challenge in her blue eyes had him straightening his spine despite his doubt.

Yet he couldn't deny that he agreed with her. The need for purpose had him continually pulling out his drawings and plans to revise and improve them even if he feared nothing would come of them. To think Prue might understand and support such an endeavor only made him like her more.

The urge to tell her how much he admired her took hold. To talk to her and hear her opinion on a variety of subjects since they seemed to be of the same mind. To share his dreams and fears and ask her to do the same. To somehow show her just how special and desirable she was. He longed to wrap her in his arms and hold her. To press kisses along her neck and take her lips with his.

"Prue," he began, wondering if he dared to share some of what was in his heart.

"I'm so pleased you're not a rogue of that sort," she whispered as her blush deepened.

Guilt swept through him. How he wished that were true.

"You will simply not believe this." The outrage on Millie's face caught Prue's attention, where she stood not far from her mother behind a potted palm, hoping none of the rogues decided to ask her to dance.

The fact that Silas still hadn't asked her to dance bothered her, but she wouldn't admit it. She had no idea what he'd meant by the extenuating circumstances that had kept him from doing so at the last ball. Apparently, they were still an issue since he'd left her side without asking her to dance.

Well over a quarter of an hour had passed since Millie's dance with Viscount Maynard, and Prue had been wondering what had become of her.

Millie took her arm to draw her away from their mothers and various aunts who visited together.

"What has happened?" Prue asked with concern. Had Viscount Maynard done something untoward? Prue didn't want her cousin to suffer a fate similar to what had happened to Prue.

"I have heard terrible news. There is a wallflower wager underway." Millie's lips tightened as she glared across the ballroom.

"I don't understand." Prue followed her gaze to where Silas stood talking to Randolph and Maynard, along with two other men.

"I overheard Maynard speaking with Randolph. They have a wager going that whoever can first manage to dance with twelve wallflowers at twelve different balls will win a substantial sum of money."

Prue's heart sank. She had a terrible feeling she knew at least four of the scoundrels involved based on the men at whom Millie glared. "Twelve?"

"Yes." Millie looked back at her. "I'm given to understand the men speaking with Viscount Winstead are involved."

Prue nodded. "Including him?" She had to ask even though she was already certain of the answer.

"Yes." Millie's lips twisted, her disappointment obvious. "And here I thought this Season was going to be different. I was rather excited by how many dances I've had at the last few balls. But they only asked because of a wager, not because they have any interest in me."

"Oh, Millie." Prue pressed her cousin's arm, hating to see how discouraged and hurt she was. "None of them deserve you. You're far too special for the likes of them."

Millie shook her head. "Am I? I suppose I should be flattered that they consider me a wallflower rather than a spinster."

"Millie—"

"If only the Marquess of Linford wasn't one of the rogues involved." She pressed a gloved hand to her chest. "I have had a secret tendre for him for some time now."

"Perhaps he isn't." Prue didn't know who the man was but hoped she was right.

"He is. I've spoken to him several times of late as his sister, Eliza, is in our literary league. Each time I fall a little more. When he asked me to dance, my heart soared. But now I know the reason." She turned her back on the men and heaved a sigh. "Life can be so unfair."

"Yes, it can." Prue knew that firsthand. Anger had her clenching her fist at the realization that her cousin was being hurt much the same way Prue had been during her debut. She'd been humiliated by a lord in front of everyone, and it had nearly ruined her. She prayed she didn't come upon him again. She didn't know if she could bear it. "We can't allow them to do this."

Millie shook her head with a resigned expression. "I don't know what we could possibly do. Wallflowers like us have no power against rogues like them."

"Surely we can do something." Prue refused to believe otherwise. "Allowing ourselves to be manipulated in such a fashion is unacceptable."

"I suppose we could try to convince the other ladies who might be considered wallflowers not to dance with them if asked." She frowned. "But some are so desperate for a match they probably won't agree."

"We shall ask anyway. We must find a way to thwart their game. But there must be more we can do. Something that will teach them a lesson."

Millie almost smiled. "That would be ideal, though I can't imagine how we could manage it."

"I shall think on it. Meanwhile, let us speak with those who might be affected by their wager. Surely a few won't want to dance once they know why they're being asked."

Millie nodded. "I will alert my friends in the literary league, as well. They'll help to spread the news."

"Are any wallflowers?" Prue asked.

"Not anymore. Most are either betrothed or recently wed. I'm one of the few still unattached in the group." Her smile was rather wistful. "You see, the founder of our league proposed that we each consider making a bold move to catch the attention of the men who captured our interest. We call it the For Better or Worse agenda."

"What sort of bold move?" The term alone was both concerning and intriguing.

"Nothing untoward, of course. No compromising situations or anything of that ilk. Something that helps the gentlemen see us in a new light, as a potential partner for life."

"How interesting." The more Prue thought it over, the more she liked it. To take action rather than waiting along the wall of the ballroom and hoping.

"It has been. A stolen kiss, a marriage proposal, a pretend betrothal, a favor of some sort." Millie smiled. "The ladies have been quite inventive with their moves."

"And successful?"

"Absolutely." Millie's smile faltered. "At least, those who have made a bold move have been."

"Do you intend to participate?" Prue asked gently, wondering if she'd already attempted a move only to have it fail.

"I considered it, but the opportunity has never arisen."

"The Season has only begun. You might yet have the chance."

Millie sighed. "Doubtful. Now I know Linford only danced with me because of the wager. I was so tongue-tied that I don't think I said a word the entire time."

"I'm sure his request took you by surprise. That's understandable." Prue studied Silas and the men near him, resolve filling her. "Perhaps showing Linford and the others that we are not willing to play a part in their ridiculous wager will bring you to his notice."

"Perhaps." Millie's expression suggested she didn't believe it.

That only made Prue more determined. She detested the idea of anyone hurting her cousin, especially a rogue. She knew that pain and humiliation and how it made a person lose faith in love. "Whatever we do will have to take them by surprise and teach them all a lesson."

Including Silas. Yet she had to wonder if the wager was the reason he hadn't danced with her. That he hadn't wanted to use her in that way. Though her heart fluttered at the thought, she quickly squashed it.

She was no na?ve girl and knew better than to have faith in a rogue. Never mind the stubborn corner of her heart that hoped Silas was different.