Bugger society. Quickly he grabbed the note and broke the seal. A few seconds to read the contents. Another second to slip it into his pocket.
His ruin was now official. Love had brought him crashing down like all this morning’s broken pots in his greenhouse. Caroline Beaumont had destroyed his principles. He deserved to be horsewhipped. Worse, he suffered not a moment’s remorse over his actions.
When West arrived a few minutes later, Silas was perusing one of the crowded bookshelves on the far side of the room.
“Stone, what in Hades are you doing here at this hour?” West strode into the room and shut the door after him. “Have you had a drink?”
“No.” Silas turned to glower at his host.
“Good Lord, man, you look like your dog just died. What is it?” West spoke lightly as he crossed the room to pour two brandies. Over shirt and loose trousers, he wore an extravagant green silk dressing gown patterned with entwined Chinese dragons.
Silas drew himself up to his full, impressive height, although this wasn’t how he’d pictured the scene. For a start, West hadn’t been dressed so casually. Nor had his manner conveyed such ease.
“I’ll do everything in my power to stop you having her,” he said stiffly.
West paused in passing Silas a glass and frowned. “Having who? Helena?”
“Helena?” Silas scowled at his oldest friend. “What the deuce does my sister have to do with this damned mess?”
“You’ll have to make yourself clearer, old chum.”
Dear God above, was the man so consumed by debauchery that he’d lost track of his paramours? Any guilt that Silas might have felt evaporated. Even if she could never be his, Caroline deserved better than this careless Lothario.
“I’m talking about Caro,” he bit out, each word barbed like an arrow.
“Caro?” West looked bewildered. “You mean Caroline Beaumont?”
Silas’s right hand clenched at his side. He’d dearly love to punch West’s smug face. How dare this bastard bandy words with him? “Of course I bloody well mean Caroline Beaumont. Who else do you intend to take as your mistress?”
“Nobody,” West said calmly, replacing the filled glass on the sideboard.
“Well, you shan’t have her.”
He continued to regard Silas as though a raving lunatic ranged about his library. “Very well, I shan’t have her.”
Silas rose on the balls of his feet, ready to thump West. Then he realized what the man had said. He felt like someone had ripped the floor away beneath his feet. He’d come ready for an epic battle, while West seemed unconcerned to the point of ignorance.
“Damn you, is that all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say?” With a nonchalance that rekindled Silas’s itch to spill blood, he collected his brandy and wandered across to a leather chair near the fire.
“I want you to say…” Silas broke off. Actually West had said exactly what Silas had burst into this house to hear. He sucked in a deep breath and a glimmer of logic pierced his turbulent thoughts. “What in blazes is going on?”
West settled in the chair and regarded Silas with an amiable expression. “You tell me. There I was, reading the latest scandalous novel, preparing to retire to my couch in virtuous solitude, and my butler tells me Lord Stone is downstairs demanding my presence. I ask you again—why are you here?”
Silas narrowed his eyes. “You know.”
West shook his dark head. “Not an inkling, my dear man. And if all you intend to do is play riddles, I must send you on your way. I’m hosting that outing to Richmond tomorrow and I want my wits about me.”
Silas straightened and stared West down. “Act innocent as much as you like. I intend to fight you for Caro.”
West frowned again and took a leisurely sip of his brandy. That insouciant air had annoyed Silas for months. Right now, it made him want to crown his lordship with the gilt celestial globe set on the table at his elbow.
“I’m always ready to
His ruin was now official. Love had brought him crashing down like all this morning’s broken pots in his greenhouse. Caroline Beaumont had destroyed his principles. He deserved to be horsewhipped. Worse, he suffered not a moment’s remorse over his actions.
When West arrived a few minutes later, Silas was perusing one of the crowded bookshelves on the far side of the room.
“Stone, what in Hades are you doing here at this hour?” West strode into the room and shut the door after him. “Have you had a drink?”
“No.” Silas turned to glower at his host.
“Good Lord, man, you look like your dog just died. What is it?” West spoke lightly as he crossed the room to pour two brandies. Over shirt and loose trousers, he wore an extravagant green silk dressing gown patterned with entwined Chinese dragons.
Silas drew himself up to his full, impressive height, although this wasn’t how he’d pictured the scene. For a start, West hadn’t been dressed so casually. Nor had his manner conveyed such ease.
“I’ll do everything in my power to stop you having her,” he said stiffly.
West paused in passing Silas a glass and frowned. “Having who? Helena?”
“Helena?” Silas scowled at his oldest friend. “What the deuce does my sister have to do with this damned mess?”
“You’ll have to make yourself clearer, old chum.”
Dear God above, was the man so consumed by debauchery that he’d lost track of his paramours? Any guilt that Silas might have felt evaporated. Even if she could never be his, Caroline deserved better than this careless Lothario.
“I’m talking about Caro,” he bit out, each word barbed like an arrow.
“Caro?” West looked bewildered. “You mean Caroline Beaumont?”
Silas’s right hand clenched at his side. He’d dearly love to punch West’s smug face. How dare this bastard bandy words with him? “Of course I bloody well mean Caroline Beaumont. Who else do you intend to take as your mistress?”
“Nobody,” West said calmly, replacing the filled glass on the sideboard.
“Well, you shan’t have her.”
He continued to regard Silas as though a raving lunatic ranged about his library. “Very well, I shan’t have her.”
Silas rose on the balls of his feet, ready to thump West. Then he realized what the man had said. He felt like someone had ripped the floor away beneath his feet. He’d come ready for an epic battle, while West seemed unconcerned to the point of ignorance.
“Damn you, is that all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say?” With a nonchalance that rekindled Silas’s itch to spill blood, he collected his brandy and wandered across to a leather chair near the fire.
“I want you to say…” Silas broke off. Actually West had said exactly what Silas had burst into this house to hear. He sucked in a deep breath and a glimmer of logic pierced his turbulent thoughts. “What in blazes is going on?”
West settled in the chair and regarded Silas with an amiable expression. “You tell me. There I was, reading the latest scandalous novel, preparing to retire to my couch in virtuous solitude, and my butler tells me Lord Stone is downstairs demanding my presence. I ask you again—why are you here?”
Silas narrowed his eyes. “You know.”
West shook his dark head. “Not an inkling, my dear man. And if all you intend to do is play riddles, I must send you on your way. I’m hosting that outing to Richmond tomorrow and I want my wits about me.”
Silas straightened and stared West down. “Act innocent as much as you like. I intend to fight you for Caro.”
West frowned again and took a leisurely sip of his brandy. That insouciant air had annoyed Silas for months. Right now, it made him want to crown his lordship with the gilt celestial globe set on the table at his elbow.
“I’m always ready to
Similar Books
