Page 84 of Dukes All Night Long

T he city was waking as Silas walked back from the seashore through town along his usual path.

No matter how little he’d slept, or how tempting bed might be, it was almost impossible to sleep late. He blamed it on a life in the countryside, helping his father either break camp or prepare for another performance.

He blamed his father for a lot of things. Some weren’t his fault.

The noise of the city hadn’t helped him sleep.

In all his memories of Bath, he’d overlooked how noisy the city could be.

Now, however, the crashing sea served as a rooster’s crow, and the rumble of milk carts over the cobbled streets had become as welcome as birdsong, and his walk from Aunt Daisy’s home through the city had become one of his favorite parts of the day.

Gulls wheeled overhead, rehearsing their screeches as they made their way to the beach. They’d spend their day scolding the fishing boats for stealing their catch and then feasting on the remains.

“Silas? You look like you haven’t slept at all. Daisy isn’t ill, is she?”

“No, Minnie. She’s as bossy as ever.” He kissed the older lady’s cheek and inhaled the scent of fresh flour, sweet butter, and a hint of sugar. It reminded him of the cold dinner he’d shared, naked, with Zara not many hours before.

“Take these.” Minerva put a box in his hands. “She needs a treat now and then.” She stopped him from searching for payment. “No need. They’re from yesterday, but they’ll crisp after a few minutes near the fire.”

“She’ll paddle me to London and back.” As much as Daisy loved scones, she hated charity.

“Then tell her you saved them from the rats,” Minnie said, laughing. “Now go on. You’ll be late for work.”

Silas walked on, the box of treats under one arm as he dodged the ladders propped against the lamps and the boys scrambling them like squirrels to douse the flames.

A carriage lumbered past, creaking in protest at the early hour. A yawning driver sat in the box propping up the young groom—no more than a boy—who was fast asleep. Curtains hid the occupant, and the coat of arms wasn’t familiar.

No doubt someone returning home from a tryst or escaping a scandal. Then again, perhaps they were creating one.

“You would know,” Silas whispered to himself. He’d remember holding Zara’s hand at the opera for as long as he lived.

His smile faded as he recalled the coach that had almost trampled Zara beneath its wheels the night before, and then the one before upended on the side of the road in the rain. His mother’s lifeless body lit by flashes of lightning while his father sat on a stone, wailing, his head in his hands.

That had been Father’s fault.

The florist cart was waiting where it always did, near the park, visible to shoppers but far enough to keep a crowd safe from the street.

There was never a crowd.

As he approached, a splotchy blush stained the young shopgirl’s cheeks. “Good morning, Mr. Archer.”

“Good morning, Miss Trask.”

Silas hated the formality of the greeting, but he’d never requested anything else from the girl for fear she would misinterpret even the lightest flirtation. Given her thin frame, she was hungry for more than attention.

“We have some beautiful roses this morning.” She indicated blooms of all colors, shoved into a basket. “Perhaps one for a vase on a tray?” She nodded toward the box beneath his arm.

“Just the violets, please.” He handed over the coins for payment, adding what extra he could afford.

The violets had begun as an impulse. He’d had a few coins when he’d passed the cart last year. The violets had caught his attention because they were almost the same color as Zara’s eyes. He thought they would make her smile, even if no one saw it in the tower.

But then he’d climbed the stairs to ask a question for his aunt, who was battling a crinoline. When he’d entered, Zara had been placing the flowers between the pages of a heavy book, pressing them to keep, her lips curved in a wistful smile.

Since then, Silas had always arranged to have a few extra coins in his pocket every morning while he walked.

He ran his finger over the petals—as delicate as Zara’s skin. “Thank you, Miss Trask.”

Thinking of Zara’s body next to his aroused Silas until he could feel his pulse with each step. He was tempted to go back to the townhouse and kiss her awake so she could see the violets on her bedside table.

But she’d had as little sleep as he had, and she’d been so beautiful with her dark lashes fanned against her pale skin and her hair spread across the pillow.

Instead, he let himself into the opera house and took the stairs two at a time in a race to keep his treats a secret. William always arrived early, as though they were going to receive visitors all day.

The sunlight tinted the office pink and orange, pushing the shadows into the corners before they surrendered. The pale blue sky winked through the windows, and the doves cooed from the nearby perches.

Zara was already behind the desk, wearing a simple gray dress. One look at her neatly pinned hair had Silas itching to free it.

“Good morning.” He crossed the floor and bent to press his lips to her cheek. “If I’d known you were going to wake so early, I would have stayed.”

“And neither of us would accomplish anything useful.” She stroked her fingertips along his jaw. “We still may not if you take the stairs and kiss me every morning.”

“I didn’t come to kiss you.” He turned his hand to display the violets.

“You?” she squealed, her voice cracking in the middle of the word. “I was all set to scold William for wasting his money. He’d have thought I was daft.” She lifted the bouquet from his fingers. “Still. You shouldn’t waste your money.”

Her smile was the best profit ever made on a one-shilling investment. “The flower girl in the park would disagree with you.”

“How am I to argue with someone I never met?” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You light the fire as well?”

“Since I’m already here.” Silas shrugged. “And it saves William from climbing the stairs.” Her purse and gloves caught his attention. “Are you going out?”

“I have an appointment this morning.” Zara paused for a moment, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “At the bank.”

The thought of her going further into debt made him angry at Edgar all over again. “If you need funds—”

“They are offering to buy the property.”

“Which property?” Her downcast eyes sent his stomach into a free-fall. “ This property?” Silas pushed himself from the corner of the desk. “Your home? Everyone’s home? ”

“The last of my funds are invested in this production, Silas. If we break even, there is still a note to pay. If I default, the bank will take it and sell everything piecemeal like a vulture picking over carrion.”

“Then we’ll find a way to fill the house every night.” He couldn’t believe she’d come to this point and never said a word.

“And the same creditors will reappear for the next production.” Her eyes had lost their luster. “It’s like spinning a wheel with no wool on the spindle.”

Damn that old madman for leaving her with nothing. Not even hope.

“I have money set aside. I could—”

“I’m not letting you throw your savings down a crumbling chimney and a hole in the roof.” She rose and walked toward him. “Silas, life has to be about more than this stage.”

“We talked about it becoming more.” He knew he hadn’t dreamt their conversation, but now his memories were shifting into nightmares.

“A school.” Her sweet smile was tinged with sadness. “It sounds wonderful, Silas, but…”

She reached for him, and it took everything he had to step away, to watch her face fall. “But you won’t try.”

“We can’t get people in our own city to walk across a bridge often enough to pay our creditors. How will we convince students to come learn stagecraft as a trade from artists who are old enough to be their grandparents?”

They would come because he would have. “I know this will work,” he said. “And if we can’t compete with opera, then we fill the seats another way.”

“You shouldn’t be tied to this place for the rest of your life, Silas. None of us should.”

The longer he was in the room, the more he wanted to grab her by her shoulders and shake some sense into her.

It was premature to fall in love. He knew that.

But he’d glimpsed what loving her would be like, and he wanted to pursue it.

She saw the same and was running away. He wasn’t going to stay and watch her do it.

“You’re right.” He turned on his heel and marched toward the door.

“Silas. Please try to understand.”

He understood all too well. He stopped with his hand on the latch and looked back at her. Maybe in a few years she’d be nothing but a memory. Maybe she’d haunt him forever. “You have an appointment, Zara. Don’t let me keep you.”

*

Zara stood in the middle of the room and listened to Silas stomp down the stairs.

“Of all the stubborn, arrogant, narrow-minded…”

Edgar had loved her, but he’d loved the opera more. Now Silas had seduced her for the sake of a school.

“Stupid, stupid girl. You knew not to get involved with him.”

Involved . What a distant word. Entranced or entangled were better.

In love was more accurate, and much more frightening.

She’d suspected it when she began looking forward to rehearsals too much, and when his invitation for an evening out made her feel like a princess.

And then she’d awakened this morning with a well-used body, a smile on her face, and not a worry in the world.

She wasn’t wrong to want that all the time.

Zara put her hot face in her hands, hating her trembling fingers and the tears stinging her eyes. She’d been foolish to put desire in front of common sense.

The clock chimed the half-hour. If she didn’t leave now, she would arrive at the bank out of time and out of breath.