play fisticuffs with you, Stone, even if we haven’t sparred since our teens. From memory, the honors then were fairly equal.”
West was one of the few men who could best Silas in a physical contest—at least until Silas had decided brawling ill befitted a man of science. “Then stand up, you bastard,” Silas said belligerently.
West didn’t budge. “By all means, old man. But please put me out of this agony of suspense—why have you chosen me as your punching bag, out of all the men in London?”
Silas paused in the act of raising his fists. “Caro has decided to take you as her lover.”
At last, genuine emotion flashed in West’s eyes. “Good Lord above, really? I had no idea.”
His friend—former friend—sounded sincerely surprised. And much as Silas wanted to think West an unregenerate liar, thirty years of acquaintance told him the man was caught unawares. “You’ve flirted with her all season.”
West shrugged and drank some more brandy. “She’s a lovely creature. And entertaining besides. Of course I’ve flirted with her. I never sensed any genuine interest.”
Silas scowled. “She wants you in her bed.”
West looked more cheerful. “Well, that’s remarkably interesting.”
“If you lay a finger on her, I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
“You’ll need an army. I’ve kept up with my sporting pursuits. You, my boy, have wasted your youth and vigor digging neat little holes in teeny weeny flowerpots.”
“I could beat you with one hand tied behind my back,” Silas scoffed, while his dull, obsessed masculine brain battled to come to terms with the astounding fact that West was no rival at all.
“Only if someone cuts off my arms and legs.” West rose and returned to the sideboard. He refilled his brandy, then lifted the other glass and extended it toward Silas. “Take down your fighting colors, Stone. Your lady is a prize, but she’s not for me.”
Without accepting the brandy, Silas surveyed West as the truth finally bashed him over the head. He’d been a blasted fool. What the hell was wrong with him? If Caro and West had shared any true attraction, they would have acted on it before this. Still, after all this time, he couldn’t quite relinquish his suspicions. “You and Caro have been dancing around each other for months.”
“Dancing with, not around. She’s society’s new darling. Naturally I made a show of chasing her. You know the game.”
He did indeed. If he hadn’t been crazed by unrequited love, he’d have noted that West was too circumspect with Caro to be on the hunt.
With a growling exhalation, he let go of months of anger. “Oh, confound you, West,” he said, aggression seeping away. He took the glass of brandy. “It’s antics like this that get you into strife. If you could just say one word and mean it, there would be a deal less trouble in the world.”
“And where would be the fun in that?”
Silas swallowed a mouthful of liquor, aware that he’d acted like an ass and grateful that West wasn’t making an issue of it. The idea that he could appreciate anything West did was shocking enough to kick his brain back into action, after months of blundering around on blind instinct.
“Sit down and stop looming.” West gestured to the matching leather chair as he ambled back to where he’d been sitting.
“I suppose I ought to apologize for bursting in on you.” Silas took the chair and drained his glass.
West shrugged. “We all do silly things when we’re in love.”
Silas didn’t bother arguing. It would only confirm West’s opinion about the state of his emotions. “How would you know?”
A faint smile hovered around West’s lips. “You’d be surprised, old chap.” Then before Silas could question that unexpected response, he went on. “Damned fine woman, Caro Beaumont. I commend your taste.”
“She’s damned elusive,” Silas said on a sigh, tilting his head back on the chair and studying his friend from under lowered
West was one of the few men who could best Silas in a physical contest—at least until Silas had decided brawling ill befitted a man of science. “Then stand up, you bastard,” Silas said belligerently.
West didn’t budge. “By all means, old man. But please put me out of this agony of suspense—why have you chosen me as your punching bag, out of all the men in London?”
Silas paused in the act of raising his fists. “Caro has decided to take you as her lover.”
At last, genuine emotion flashed in West’s eyes. “Good Lord above, really? I had no idea.”
His friend—former friend—sounded sincerely surprised. And much as Silas wanted to think West an unregenerate liar, thirty years of acquaintance told him the man was caught unawares. “You’ve flirted with her all season.”
West shrugged and drank some more brandy. “She’s a lovely creature. And entertaining besides. Of course I’ve flirted with her. I never sensed any genuine interest.”
Silas scowled. “She wants you in her bed.”
West looked more cheerful. “Well, that’s remarkably interesting.”
“If you lay a finger on her, I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
“You’ll need an army. I’ve kept up with my sporting pursuits. You, my boy, have wasted your youth and vigor digging neat little holes in teeny weeny flowerpots.”
“I could beat you with one hand tied behind my back,” Silas scoffed, while his dull, obsessed masculine brain battled to come to terms with the astounding fact that West was no rival at all.
“Only if someone cuts off my arms and legs.” West rose and returned to the sideboard. He refilled his brandy, then lifted the other glass and extended it toward Silas. “Take down your fighting colors, Stone. Your lady is a prize, but she’s not for me.”
Without accepting the brandy, Silas surveyed West as the truth finally bashed him over the head. He’d been a blasted fool. What the hell was wrong with him? If Caro and West had shared any true attraction, they would have acted on it before this. Still, after all this time, he couldn’t quite relinquish his suspicions. “You and Caro have been dancing around each other for months.”
“Dancing with, not around. She’s society’s new darling. Naturally I made a show of chasing her. You know the game.”
He did indeed. If he hadn’t been crazed by unrequited love, he’d have noted that West was too circumspect with Caro to be on the hunt.
With a growling exhalation, he let go of months of anger. “Oh, confound you, West,” he said, aggression seeping away. He took the glass of brandy. “It’s antics like this that get you into strife. If you could just say one word and mean it, there would be a deal less trouble in the world.”
“And where would be the fun in that?”
Silas swallowed a mouthful of liquor, aware that he’d acted like an ass and grateful that West wasn’t making an issue of it. The idea that he could appreciate anything West did was shocking enough to kick his brain back into action, after months of blundering around on blind instinct.
“Sit down and stop looming.” West gestured to the matching leather chair as he ambled back to where he’d been sitting.
“I suppose I ought to apologize for bursting in on you.” Silas took the chair and drained his glass.
West shrugged. “We all do silly things when we’re in love.”
Silas didn’t bother arguing. It would only confirm West’s opinion about the state of his emotions. “How would you know?”
A faint smile hovered around West’s lips. “You’d be surprised, old chap.” Then before Silas could question that unexpected response, he went on. “Damned fine woman, Caro Beaumont. I commend your taste.”
“She’s damned elusive,” Silas said on a sigh, tilting his head back on the chair and studying his friend from under lowered
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