Page 15 of A Reckless Courtship (A Chronicle of Misadventures #3)

15

SILAS

S o, Drayton intended to marry off his daughter.

Of course he did. He might love her, but that did not mean he would not use her to his advantage. He had essentially hidden the existence of his children from the ton , but now that it suited him, he intended to make use of her. Everyone was a pawn to be used and disposed of according to his needs and whims. Why would his daughter be any different?

The thought of Drayton choosing some ill-tempered, wealthy, philandering lord for Miss Easton was enough to send Silas’s temper into a frenzy. It was simply unbearable.

He glanced at her as she touched a finger to the petals of the flower nearest her hand.

She deserved the best.

Silas wasn’t fool enough to think he himself fell into that category. Even had Drayton not been intent on sending him to the gallows, he would not have stood a chance with Miss Easton. He had neither title nor fortune, as they had established.

She caught him looking at her and smiled perplexedly. “When you look at me so somberly, I fear I have displeased you.”

He stood straight and forced a smile. “Never. I was merely lost in thought.”

“That makes two of us.” Her eyes flitted to his mouth. “Have you grown more fond of your mustache?”

His hand went to it involuntarily. “I fear that is an unlikely development.” It had become a reminder of the captivity in which he lived, but it was a necessary evil. With Drayton flitting in and out of Town, he needed to adapt and protect himself and his family as best he could. It was his fear of meeting Drayton that had decided him against coming this evening. Then he had learned from William that Drayton had left Town again, and he had hurried to catch the barge, knowing Miss Easton would be here.

“Your need for attention outweighs your dislike of it, then?” She was clearly both amused and bemused by his choices.

“Precisely.”

“Which is also why you chose to make such a grand entrance this evening.”

“You know me so well, Miss Easton.”

Her bemusement grew, and she studied him. “I do not believe you. If attention was the driving factor, you would be over there.” She indicated a group of people at the stern of the barge, laughing and drinking. Amongst them was the man with the wine and brandy glasses. They were by far the most raucous group on the barge.

“Or perhaps I am merely selective in where I seek that attention.”

Her eyes met his, questioning him over a set of rosy cheeks. Frederick’s comment about toying with a woman’s emotions came to him, and he felt a stab of guilt. He was not toying with Miss Easton. His admiration and affection for her were genuine. But what difference did that make when he knew he could not have her?

More than anything, he hated lying to her. He had never appreciated just how precious the truth was until he was forbidden from telling it.

“If you truly wish to know,” he said, “I lost a wager to Yorke, and I am now condemned to look like a fool until midsummer.”

“Well,” Miss Easton said with an arch look, “we will all look forward to midsummer, then.”

Silas’s mouth broke into a smile, and he ran his fingers along his mustache. “Both I and my mustache take offense, madam.”

“You agreed to be my friend by helping me ward off unwanted suitors, Mr. Hayes. I am merely trying to ensure you do not unwittingly ward off wanted ones.”

“Ah, but do I wish for a woman who would be scared off by something as trivial as a mustache?”

“There is nothing trivial about it.” The way her eyes twinkled at him robbed her words of offense, and Silas marveled at how he could feel so much joy in her presence while feeling simultaneous despair that he could never be more than a friend to her.

Silas’s mustache was the constant topic of conversation whenever he went to see William, which made him wonder why he ever bothered to visit. But William’s and Frederick’s responses to it were nothing compared to Aunt Eugenia’s.

Silas approached her in the entry hall of William’s townhouse, intending to give her his customary embrace, but she drew back and prevented him from coming any nearer with the cane she had recently adopted.

“Get thee hence!” she warned.

Silas tried to suppress his laughter, feigning ignorance despite knowing full well to what she had taken such violent exception. “What sort of response is this, Aunt? I thought I was your favorite nephew.” He took a few steps closer, and she matched them with her own steps away.

“Perhaps you were until you allowed what I can only assume is a dead squirrel to take up residence on your face.”

“I have been told it is rather dashing,” he said.

“He has not,” William said. “Both Freddie and I have informed him, in no uncertain terms, that it is repulsive.”

“And a fire hazard,” Frederick added.

Aunt Eugenia walked around Silas, eyeing the mustache as though it might leap from his face and attack her at any moment. “I thought you were trying to be inconspicuous.”

Silas followed her toward the parlor but was obliged to increase the distance he kept, as she continued to look over her shoulder at him with misgiving.

“I suppose it does keep people from wanting to be near you,” she added.

“Nothing could do that. Besides, I think it quite romantic. Some have compared me to Byron.”

Aunt Eugenia barked with laughter. “Byron? I hope you do not mean to ape his ways. Debt, scandal, and disrepute.”

“Surely not all because of his mustache, though,” Silas argued.

“Let us leave the mustache behind,” William said. “If not in reality, at least as a topic of conversation. Freddie tells me you are in a scrape.”

Silas looked at Frederick, who shot William an annoyed look.

“My entire life is a scrape, as you well know,” Silas said.

“What scrape is he in, Frederick?” Aunt Eugenia asked baldly. “Pockets to let?”

“He is in love with Drayton’s daughter,” William said, his gaze fixed on Silas.

Silas scoffed, but there was little force behind it.

“Not so different from Byron after all, then,” Aunt Eugenia said. “Are you mad as well, Silas?”

“Firstly,” Silas said, “I did not know she was Drayton’s daughter. I assure you, if anyone had mentioned his name in connection with her, I would have run the other direction. But no one did—including you, Freddie.”

“I had no idea,” he said defensively. “I thought Drayton had no children. How was I to know? The man never attends Parliament, and I certainly have gone out of my way to avoid him—for obvious reasons. William is the one with connections in the Lords. If anyone knew, it should have been him.”

“I am not in the habit of interrogating Drayton about his personal life. He is infamously private, not to mention he is rarely to be seen in Parliament. Evidently, his duties there bore him. I had no notion his surname was Easton.”

“You see?” Silas said. “There was simply no way for me to know.”

“And yet,” Frederick said, “now that you do know, you have not only run in her direction, you jumped across the Thames to be on that barge with her.”

“What?” Aunt Eugenia exclaimed.

“Freddie loves a bit of drama, Aunt,” Silas said. “I was invited to a party on a barge. I was late and did not care to be left behind, so I hopped”—he fixed his gaze on Frederick for a moment—“onto a very slowly moving barge as it was departing.”

Aunt Eugenia’s mouth drew into a lopsided smile. “You certainly have pluck! I only wish you had enough of it to pluck that horrid creature off your lip.”

“Miss Easton was on this lethargic vessel?” William asked.

“She was,” Silas admitted.

“And did you speak with her?”

Frederick snorted. “Spent the entire night in her pocket.”

Silas shot him a look. But annoyed as he might be with his brother’s tale-telling, he could not be angry with him. He understood his family’s fears, and beyond that, he knew his friendship with Miss Easton was dangerous. He simply couldn’t help himself—or perhaps it was that he didn’t wish to.

William’s eyes had settled on Silas and never once left.

“What?” Silas asked.

“You are being careless,” William responded calmly.

“Oh, come, William,” Aunt Eugenia said. “You had your romantic scandal. Anthony had his. It is Silas’s turn.”

Silas regarded his aunt with curiosity. He had not expected her to throw her support behind him.

“Not that he stands a chance with any woman if he keeps that furry atrocity,” she said. “As long as he can clear his name and his upper lip, why should he not be able to choose the bride he wishes for?”

“I shall welcome whatever bride Silas chooses,” William said. “My concern is entirely for his safety. Have you made any headway, Silas?”

“I took Bence into my confidence,” Silas said. “He sent me a note just this morning. He is exploring various avenues and hopes to have promising news for me soon—evidence to use against Drayton.”

“Let us hope he is trustworthy,” William said.

“Bence is steady as an oak,” Frederick said.

“And yet, he did business with Drayton.”

“Something he sincerely regrets,” Silas said. “He has no love for Drayton, William.”

William nodded. “Then let us hope that he finds something we can use. In the meantime, I beg you to keep your distance from Miss Easton, Silas.”

Silas suppressed a sigh, but he could not counter the sense of William’s request. Drayton would return to London, and the danger in seeking her company once that occurred would simply be too great to seriously consider.