8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

S ilas searched for Prue the moment he entered the Duncan ballroom. Since their interlude the previous afternoon in the conservatory, he'd had difficulty thinking of anything but her.

Between berating himself for taking advantage of her innocence and knowing he couldn't allow anything of that sort to happen again to wondering if they might have the chance for another passionate encounter, he hadn't slept more than a wink.

"Winstead." Mr. Havenworth, the father of the heiress he'd been attempting to woo, glared at him and started to continue past.

"Mr. Havenworth." Silas tried a smile, but the man only glared harder. "Is Miss Havenworth attending this evening?"

"She has no interest in you." The man stalked away, tossing one last dismissive look over his shoulder.

Silas sighed but felt little remorse other than the waste of time and effort he'd put into speaking to her. Miss Havenworth hadn't appealed to him, although losing a chance with an heiress was a setback. He'd have to find another. Unfortunately, the thought held no appeal.

How did other men manage to marry when they knew they had nothing in common with the lady? The idea of spending decades with someone he could barely tolerate was inconceivable. He hoped to be friends with his wife to make their years together somewhat pleasant for them both.

In comparison, every moment he spent with Prue was a blessing. He enjoyed her company. She was quick-witted, pretty, thoughtful, and even-tempered. Her assistance was making the planning of his grandmother's birthday party a delight rather than a chore. But it was so much more than that.

When he was with her, all his worries about the future fell away. He wanted to hear her opinions on everything, regardless of the topic, and coax a smile from her. Bringing the light of joy to her face made him feel like he could conquer mountains.

Yet he couldn't allow any of that to change his path. An heiress was the only way to save his family. Even if Prue's uncle decided to invest in his windmill design, it could be years before it turned a profit, if ever. The risk of relying on that—on his intellect and creativity—was too great.

While he intended to continue to pursue it, the endeavor would be a matter of passion rather than practicality.

Much like Prue.

He gave himself a mental shake. He wasn't pursuing her.

Liar.

The sight of her across the ballroom gave his heart a little lurch. If he were wise, he'd keep his distance, but his feet didn't listen and walked directly toward her.

Better that he speak with her now and release the urge. Afterwards, he would focus on another heiress.

He wound through the crowd, taking his time so as not to appear in a rush in case anyone watched. He didn't want it to be obvious that he was seeking her out.

As he drew closer, he frowned, trying to puzzle out the sight before him. Prue, Miss Davies, and several other ladies were standing around Lord Ulstead as if they'd surrounded him on purpose. The bewildered look on the man's face suggested he didn't know what to make of it either.

The ladies, most of whom might be described as wallflowers, looked quite displeased with Ulstead. One had her hands on her hips. Another glared at him with a heated look in her eyes.

Silas was hesitant to interrupt what appeared to be a confrontation of sorts, yet curiosity had him continuing forward until he stood just behind Prue.

"Good evening."

Prue stiffened at his greeting and spun to face him. "Silas."

Heat colored her cheeks, but whether it was from the memory of their encounter the previous day or whatever was happening with Ulstead, he didn't know.

"How is...everyone?" Silas asked with a raised brow as he looked around the group.

Some of the ladies reverted to their shy tendencies, dropping their gazes to the ground or clasping their hands before them as if in self-defense.

Sympathy welled inside him. How difficult it must be to feel such a lack of confidence, as if one wrong misstep might ruin their hope for a future.

As for Ulstead, his relief at Silas's arrival was clear. "Winstead. You're just in time."

"For what?" He had no wish to rescue the lord. Ulstead deserved whatever the ladies intended to deal him.

"Explain to the wall—" The lord bit off the term, his face turning red as more glares were turned his way. "To the ladies that we meant no harm."

"To what are you referring?" Silas enjoyed watching him squirm almost as much as he enjoyed the smiles lighting the faces of several of the ladies in the group when he didn't immediately aid the lord.

"The wager, of course." Ulstead's glare might've withered a lesser man. "Don't deny you are in on it."

Indecision gripped Silas. As much as he wanted to do just that, he wouldn't lie. Besides, Prue already knew the truth. And he wouldn't deny how welcome the money would be if he won. Yet it seemed the game was up since the ladies knew about the wager.

He glanced at Prue, wondering at her thoughts, but her expression revealed little as she waited for his reply. Once again, she kept secret his involvement, much like she had when he'd fallen from the tree.

"I wouldn't lie to the ladies." He gave a small bow to the group to show his respect. "Nor do I wish to cause offense."

But blast it, he didn't want Maynard to win, and since he was the one whose money was at risk and was already in the lead, that was the likely outcome. The arrogant lord would only continue to think himself superior if he won. If only there was a way to teach him a lesson and take his money.

Silas offered his customary grin as he met each of the ladies' gazes, ending with Prue. "It appears the wager is off. That is unless the ladies decide to choose a rogue to champion." He looked around the group again. "Why don't we place the wager in their hands to decide who, if any of us, should win?" The more he thought about the idea, the more he liked it as it gave the ladies the power to decide their fate, something they deserved after enduring the rogues' poor behavior.

Gasps met his suggestion as the ladies looked at one another, whispering as smiles took hold.

"That's ridiculous," Ulstead sputtered. "That isn't how the wager is supposed to go at all."

"You couldn't expect them not to notice when a group of rogues took a sudden interest in dancing with them. They are much smarter than that." He should've realized that from the beginning.

Prue cleared her throat but didn't look at him. "You have given us much to consider, Lord Winstead. We will ponder the idea." She cast a glare at Ulstead. "For now, we believe it would be best if Lord Ulstead departed."

The lord jerked on the hem of his jacket. "I will be in the card room if—"

"No." Prue's cousin, Miss Davies, shook her head. "You must leave the ball. We are in agreement on that."

"Leave?" Ulstead looked at them with mouth agape. "But I only just arrived."

"And immediately offended several of us," another of the ladies added with a lift of her chin. "You should go and think upon your actions. Perhaps we will consider allowing you to attend the next ball."

"You can't be serious." Ulstead looked askance at Silas, who only shrugged as he hid a grin.

"It's up to the ladies," Silas said. Good for them for taking charge of the situation. While he hated to lose the money, he would trade that for seeing the shy ladies gain confidence and force the rogues to see them differently.

With a muttered oath, Ulstead turned on his heel and walked away.

The group watched in silence until he exited the ballroom.

Twitters of discussion ensued with the ladies speaking over one another as they shared their thoughts.

Clearly, the time had come for Silas to step away. He only hoped he wasn't asked to leave like Ulstead had been.

He eased back a step only to hesitate when Prue turned to him. "Thank you for your support, Lord Winstead. We appreciate it."

She appeared to be the spokesperson for the group since the other ladies nodded in agreement and added their thanks.

"Of course." He bowed again. "I wish you all a pleasant evening." He paused, allowing amusement to show. "And if anyone would like to dance, do consider me as a partner."

Laughter ensued, though he wondered if one or two might take him up on his offer, based on their delighted expressions.

To his surprise, Prue joined him as he started to walk away.

"My goodness. What was that all about?" he asked.

"We have been warning the ladies about the wager so they can decide for themselves whether they want to dance with the rogues."

He drew a relieved breath at her use of "the rogues" as if he weren't included. He was, of course, but he liked to think he hadn't sunk to the same level of debauchery as most of them.

"Three ladies refused him in a row after he admitted he had only asked them because of the wager," Prue continued. "The others decided enough was enough, and we confronted him."

"Point in favor of the ladies," he said with a dip of his head.

"Exactly." Prue smiled, the light in her eyes stirring his admiration.

Confidence looked good on her. If she weren't careful, other gentlemen would notice just how attractive she was.

Never mind the way his chest tightened at the thought. He didn't care for the idea at all.

Would he ever have the chance to dance with her? He didn't dare ask now as he didn't want her to think he did so for the wager.

He paused to face her. "I enjoyed our time together yesterday."

Her eyes darkened, a pretty blush rose in her cheeks, and a smile curved her lips. "As did I."

Bold and confident. Be still his heart. He wasn't quite sure how to respond. This new version of Prue was one to be reckoned with, and he liked it very much. He liked her very much, his affection deepening each time they were together.

She glanced over her shoulder. "I should return to the others."

"Of course. I hope the rest of your evening goes as well as the first part has. I will be watching." He shouldn't have said as much, but he wanted her to think of him.

She tilted her head to one side as if considering his words. "I will be watching you, too." She flashed a smile that had his breath catching. "Do advise if we need to meet again for Mrs. Sutton's party."

He nodded and watched as she returned to the ladies who were still talking. Did her words mean that she was open to further exploration of the physical attraction between them?

Damn, but he dearly hoped so, his body tightening at the thought.

Prue didn't think she'd enjoyed a ball more. Watching Lord Ulstead's arrogant manner shift to confusion and then to outrage had been delightful.

Silas had come at the perfect time to lend support. It was all the other ladies could speak of, though she hoped none had their eye on him. She sighed as she realized how possessive she was, ridiculous when he could never be hers.

As she and Millie slowly made their way through the guests to return to their mothers, she realized how different she felt now than when she'd arrived in London a few weeks ago. Did he have any idea how much he'd helped rebuild her confidence in the short time they'd known one another?

He'd assisted her in overcoming the feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness the scene with Waltham had caused three years ago in numerous ways. She couldn't claim to be over those debilitating emotions, but she was working toward that.

All thanks to Silas.

He'd allowed her to see herself in a new light. As someone worthy of attention. Worthy of admiration. Worthy of desire. She was grateful and wasn't ready to allow it to slip away when she had only just begun to believe it.

Did her heartbeat quicken when he was near? Definitely. Did her entire body tingle even when they weren't touching? Absolutely. Did she hope they might kiss and caress one another again soon? Without a doubt.

How could those precious moments be wrong? It was impossible to regret time with him when being together felt so right.

Of course, she couldn't allow it to go any further than it had. There was still a chance she would marry if her mother had anything to say about the matter.

The thought had her closing her eyes, heart aching, because she couldn't imagine being with anyone other than Silas.

"Prue? Is all well?" Millie asked.

She opened her eyes and smiled. "Yes. Quite well. I was just remembering the look of consternation on Ulstead's face."

Millie giggled. "He deserved it with his high-handedness. I am thrilled the other wallflowers joined together the way they did. It was perfect."

"A lesson he won't soon forget." Now if only they could manage a similar feat with Maynard.

He was of the same ilk as the Marquess of Waltham. They thought nothing of treating others poorly, as if it was their right. Would challenging them serve any purpose?

Prue's confidence was still a fragile thing, like a butterfly's wings. She couldn't risk losing it, which meant confronting either of the men was impossible. The thought of doing such a thing was nearly enough to make her shudder.

There had to be an indirect way to force Maynard to see the error of his behavior.

"Whatever are you girls up to?" Millie's mother asked when they returned to her side.

"We've been watching and are quite confused," Prue's mother added. "Why did no one dance with Lord Ulstead?"

Prue allowed Millie to explain the rogues' wager. Her cousin seemed to be gaining some confidence through the situation as well. Prue hoped that was true since over the past year, Millie acted as if she'd given up hope of the future she'd always dreamed of.

There was always someone younger and prettier to catch a man's eye. It felt as if they stepped in front of ladies like Prue and Millie, pushing them to the back where they were rarely seen for who they truly were.

With each Season that passed, the wallflowers faded a little more, like a rose wilting in the chill of autumn, its colors muted.

That was why she intended to enjoy the next week or two. With Silas as a willing partner, doing so might be possible, at least until his grandmother's birthday party was over in just a few days.

She pressed a hand to her aching heart, hoping it would stay strong. Unfortunately, reminding herself that charming, handsome rogues like Silas didn't marry wallflowers who weren't heiresses had little effect.

As if she'd conjured him with her thoughts, her gaze caught on him some distance away where he conversed with an older lady whose daughter stood nearby. Was the young lady an heiress? The thought of Silas giving the lady the same smile he gave her pinched her heart.

She blew out a breath, realizing how difficult it would be to not only watch him woo another but marry her. Knowing how much his family's lack of funds weighed on him, she understood. Duty first was something most members of Society learned from a young age. The burden he carried couldn't be easy.

Perhaps her uncle would see potential in Silas's design of the windmill, and it would bring him prosperity in the coming years.

She turned away. Watching him court another was painful, and she comforted herself with the knowledge that if she truly wanted to, she could ask him for a dance. She smiled at the thought. Before the end of the Season, she wanted that—a dance with Silas.

Her smile held the remainder of the evening. Even when she saw Lord Randolph ask a wallflower to dance and the lady gladly accepted. To her relief, Millie noticed it, too, and approached the lady after the dance.

The more "wallflowers" they gathered together, the better hope of showing the rogues they couldn't use others for their entertainment. Whether Silas had been asked by one of the wallflowers, as he'd suggested, she didn't know.

"Who is Viscount Winstead dancing with?" Millie asked when she returned.

Unable not to look, Prue saw he danced with the young lady he'd been speaking with earlier. "An heiress, I presume," she whispered.

The besotted look on the lady's pretty face suggested she was far from immune to Silas's charm. But Prue could see a hint of unhappiness on Silas's face. If she were to guess, he wasn't overly pleased to be with whoever the lady was. That made Prue feel slightly better.

Millie squeezed her arm. "Life isn't fair, is it?" she whispered. When Prue glanced at her, she added, "I've noticed how your face lights up when you speak with him. He is very charming and handsome."

Prue nodded, uncertain of what else to say. Luckily, she was kept from adding anything by the Marquess of Linford's approach.

"Miss Davies, may I have the pleasure of a dance?"

Prue watched with bated breath. Just as Millie had noted her reaction to Silas, Prue noticed her cousin's response to Linford, confirming how much Millie cared for him.

Millie's face flooded with color, and her mouth opened and closed several times. Prue's heart twisted, knowing exactly how her cousin must feel. To refuse the one man who meant something to you was nearly impossible. But knowing he'd asked you to dance only to try to win the wager was equally impossible.

Millie's chin lifted. "How kind of you, but as I assume you ask only because you're involved in the rogues' wager, I must refuse."

Prue wanted to applaud her strength, uncertain if she could've done the same if Silas asked her to dance now that she knew how it felt to be in his arms.

"Wager?" Linford stiffened, a ruddiness coloring his face.

"Do you deny it?" A hopeful note colored Millie's question that Prue knew only she could hear.

His lips twisted, much like a young boy caught stealing an extra biscuit at tea. "Perhaps it would be best if I didn't say."

"Then I must refuse." Millie held the lord's gaze and leaned closer as if to impart a secret. "But when you truly wish to dance with me, my answer will be yes."

"It will?" Linford's confusion was almost as amusing as Ulstead's had been.

"Most of the ladies involved know about the wager, and we're not helping any of you with it," Prue added, wanting to lend support.

"I see." Linford glanced away, obviously uncomfortable.

Millie's gaze shifted to the couples dancing. If Linford had been looking at her, he might've seen the flash of longing in her face. "You might as well admit defeat."

"Humph." Linford cleared his throat and pinned Millie with his dark gaze. "Of course, I truly wish to dance with you, or I wouldn't have asked." He glanced at Prue then returned his focus to Millie, looking like he wanted to say more. "Have a pleasant evening." With a dip of his head, he strode away.

Millie's breath caught. "You don't think he really wanted a dance, do you?"

Prue bit her lip as she watched the lord's stiff form wind through the crowd. "I don't know." She smiled at her cousin. "It will be interesting to discover if it's true."

A faint light of hope lit Millie's eyes. "Perhaps so." She gasped. "We already danced once, so dancing again with me wouldn't help him win the wager." Her eyes met Prue's. "Maybe I should've accepted."

The moment was a reminder that circumstances could change in the space of a heartbeat. No matter how much Prue told herself that wouldn't be true for her and Silas, hope burned eternal.