9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

S ilas paced his grandmother's drawing room, relieved she was out shopping. The unfortunate news he'd received that morning would be impossible to hide.

He paused to stare out the window, the steady drizzle a perfect match for his mood. Not even the fire in the hearth could chase away the chill that had seeped into him on the drive over for another meeting with Prue.

Two nights ago at the ball, he'd held hope the future might be turning in his favor. Yes, he'd spoken with another heiress, and she seemed interested in him, or at least, in his title. He'd also been asked to dance by one of the wallflowers, which had been quite sweet.

But the times he spent with Prue were showing him another path—one that led to a future filled with happiness, and dare he say, love.

He should've known better. After all, Hayworths weren't known for their luck, only their charm and looks. Why should he be any different?

Mr. Harrison had returned his plans and sketches when they'd met that morning. The investor group decided against proceeding with his idea. How unfortunate that Professor Ridley, the man who hadn't liked his plans years ago, happened to be part of the group.

Prue's uncle had been apologetic and seemed puzzled by the vote. "Ridley was adamant the design wouldn't make a significant difference in a windmill's production," he'd explained. "His opinion swayed the group."

As if realizing how disappointed Silas was, the older man had placed a hand on Silas's shoulder. "There are other investor groups out there. If you have a prototype made and test the effectiveness, that will surely gain more interest."

Mr. Harrison might as well have suggested that Silas fly to the moon. Making one blade might be possible. But without significant resources, making an entire windmill and testing it against a standard one was out of the question.

He hadn't realized how hopeful he'd been until hearing the news. He felt crushed, not to mention bitter and angry, at fate. No matter that he knew those emotions would not serve him.

"Lady Prudence, my lord," Wilson announced from the doorway, his concerned expression suggesting he sensed something was amiss.

That was a reminder to hide his distress. He couldn't allow Prue to realize the depths of his devastation.

But he needed to step back from her. It wasn't fair to her to continue their...friendship. The term did not define what burned between them or the joy that filled Silas when he was with her.

Even now, the sight of her smile had him reaching for one of his own. Yet when hers faltered, he knew he hadn't hidden his upset.

"Silas? Whatever is wrong?" she asked as she came to stand before him.

He resisted the urge to draw her into his arms and take comfort in her presence. She was not his, and now it was clear she never would be.

He attempted a sheepish look to lighten the mood. "Please ignore me. I had unwelcome news this morning, and I suppose I'm still out of sorts."

With another quick smile, something that had always been his best defense, he turned aside.

"What is it?" she asked, moving to better look at him, her gaze searching his face. "Your mother and grandmother are well?"

"Yes, quite well." She would hear the news sooner or later anyway. He glanced at the set of papers he'd brought with him from the meeting. "Your uncle's investment group decided against proceeding with the design."

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry to hear that." The sympathy in her tone provided some comfort. "Why don't I speak with him and ask—"

"No need." He held up a hand to stop her. Clearly his idea wasn't good enough or they would've moved forward. "I'm pleased I made one more attempt with it. Otherwise, I would've always wondered." He shook his head. "Now I know it won't work."

"That's not true." She placed a gloved hand on his arm, but he had to pull away, unable to bear her touch. "Silas, you know in your heart it's a fine idea and would help others. You can't give up."

"I must. My attention needs to shift elsewhere." On finding a wealthy bride as soon as possible. Dragging it out wasn't helping anyone. He'd been told from his youth what was expected of him. What a fool he'd been to think he had the intelligence to escape that destiny and forge his own.

"To what?" Prue asked, a hint of steel in her tone. "This is important. Even your grandmother sees that."

He closed his eyes at the thought of how disappointed she would be. Telling her would be nearly as painful as telling Prue.

"Prue." Silas forced himself to look at her again but was careful not to touch her. "I am sorry."

"For what?" Wariness darkened her eyes.

"For allowing my...desire for you to overcome good sense. I hope my attentions didn't hurt you." He clenched his hands to keep from reaching for her. "I am sorry for taking liberties when I shouldn't have."

"I am capable of saying no if it wasn't what I wanted." Though her words were bold, a blush rose on her cheeks.

"Yes, you are very capable." He nodded. Dear heaven, but he was going to miss her. "And lovely and intelligent. I hope you find a man who deserves you. I wish it could be me."

She stilled at his words, eyes holding on him. "What do you intend?"

"My family's finances are only worsening the longer I delay marrying an heiress. I need to put all my attention toward that goal."

"I see." Her gaze fell, and it was all he could do not to place a finger beneath her chin so she would look at him again. "Are you certain there is no hope for your design?"

"Not without building a prototype. That requires more time and money than I have."

"But if you won the wager..." She looked at him again, her steadfast gaze striking him in the heart.

To think she would be willing to set aside her determination to teach Maynard and the others a lesson to help him win touched him deeply. She would have been the perfect partner—someone who believed in him more than he believed in himself. A woman whose love and passion equaled his own.

Better that he end their relationship now before he did something foolish. Asking her to be his mistress would be a mistake. She deserved more than that, and he refused to be so selfish. She should have a family of her own to love.

"I wouldn't ask you or the other ladies to compromise your values for me. That wouldn't be fair." He wouldn't lower himself in such a manner. "Thank you for helping me with Grandmother's birthday party. I have no doubt it will be a huge success."

"Don't we still need to finalize the refreshments?"

"No need to trouble yourself." It would be impossible to be with Prue and not touch her or kiss her again. "Mother is recovering and will lend a hand." That was partly true. She was feeling better though her energy had yet to return.

"I see." Prue swallowed visibly, and his heart ached with the worry that he'd hurt her. Yet what else could he do? She looked at the papers on the table. "I still wish you wouldn't set aside your idea."

"It's for the best." He lifted several of the sketches and measurements, thinking of the effort and hope he'd put into his plans. "No need for these any longer."

He strode to the fire and tossed several papers into the flames.

"Please, Silas. Don't do that," Prue pleaded. "The opportunity might arise—"

"No. No more." He tossed in several more, watching his sketches curl as they burned. "Time to face reality, even if it is unpleasant."

Unpleasant? That was far too dull of a word for his current emotions. He tossed the remaining papers onto a nearby stool, suddenly unable to so much as look at the plans even to watch them burn.

He turned his back on the ashes in the hearth. Saying goodbye to his design was hard enough, but saying goodbye to Prue was much worse. Still, he forced himself to look at her again. "I wish you well, Prudence. I am a better person for having had the chance to know you."

They both turned at a rustling sound to see Bertie stroll into the room. "Meow."

Silas couldn't help but feel the cat was admonishing him for telling Prue goodbye. Still, he welcomed the distraction the cat provided and reached down to scratch him behind his ears, unable to bring himself to watch Prue.

A few moments later, she joined him, clutching her reticule as if her life depended on it, to stroke the cat who leaned into her touch. Silas scowled at the realization that he was envious of the feline.

Prue heaved a sigh as they both stood. "I do wish you'd reconsider, Silas." She lifted her gaze to meet his, the emotion in them nearly his undoing. "You are an amazing man with a tremendous idea that should be brought to fruition. It would benefit others and that matters."

She stepped closer and lifted onto her toes to kiss his cheek. " You matter. You are an intelligent and clever man. I hope that one day, you will be able to see that. I wish you well, Silas."

Tears glinted in her eyes and caused his own throat to tighten. Then she walked out the door, taking a piece of his heart with her.

Prue made it to the carriage before tears overcame her. She hadn't realized Silas, too, had hoped they might have a future together. That made his goodbye all the more heartbreaking.

She understood why he'd ended their association. Continuing to see one another would only make their eventual goodbye—because there could be no doubt it would come—even more painful.

And she knew that was something she couldn't endure.

"Lady Prudence," her maid whispered, "is there anything I can do?"

Prue shook her head and opened her reticule to retrieve a handkerchief. The sight of Silas's plans that she'd folded and tucked inside it without him knowing made her tears flow even harder. Yet she couldn't stand to watch him burn them knowing how much time and effort he'd put into them.

If only her uncle had agreed to invest in his design.

There had to be something else at play given how impressed and excited Uncle Arthur had been by the sketches Silas had provided. She knew he wasn't the only one in the investment group. Perhaps someone else had decided against the idea.

With a shuddering breath, she wiped her tears and shut the reticule. Though tempted to call on her uncle that very minute, she didn't think that would serve any purpose. Perhaps after she'd calmed, she would consider doing so, despite wondering if it would be pointless.

The depth of Silas's despair had been palpable, as if all his hopes and dreams were shattered. She closed her eyes, realizing her own were broken as well. Was it truly better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?

That was a question for another day, yet she couldn't imagine never having known Silas or his tender touch.

By the time they arrived at Millie's, Prue had managed to collect herself. Surely, she could keep her composure long enough to make it to her bedroom. The last thing she wanted was to explain what had happened to her family.

"Please tell anyone who asks that I'm not feeling well," Prue requested the maid.

"Of course, my lady."

Prue nodded and hoped the rain helped to disguise her tear-streaked face as she hurried inside. To her relief, she managed to make it to her bedroom without encountering anyone.

Once alone, she allowed more tears to fall, heart aching, wishing she'd had just one more day with Silas.

"Are you certain you're feeling better?" Millie asked, her expression one of concern that evening when she sought out Prue in her bedroom.

"A lingering headache but better." Prue avoided meeting her cousin's eyes since it was clear she suspected something else was amiss. She might eventually tell Millie the circumstances, but not now when she was still so distraught.

If only...

Too many times, she'd pulled her thoughts from that ledge when no good could come of it.

"The ball won't be the same without you." Millie was already dressed in a pink gown with brown trim.

"I look forward to hearing your report of how the battle is progressing with the rogues." She met Millie's gaze at last. "I am still amazed that you refused the Marquess of Linford."

"As am I." Regret tightened her expression before she forced a smile. "But he asked me for the wrong reason. Hopefully he'll realize that and ask me again one day."

"Hopefully soon after the wager is over, and those men have realized we are not helpless ladies dependent on their whims."

"Well said." Millie gave a single nod. "I refuse to allow that to occur and shall keep a close watch this evening to make certain all goes as planned."

After she left, Prue couldn't help but wonder if it would help Silas to win the wager. Surely that would still teach Maynard and the others a needed lesson, but helping Silas would mean choosing him over Millie and the other wallflowers.

She was torn between her head and her heart, uncertain which to listen to. Was there any way to help Silas win yet honor them?