“Mother was undecided about the cake based on her notes.” He leaned closer to point at the paper near Prue, allowing her to catch the faint scent of his cologne. It wrapped around her senses, and she had to blink to clear her thoughts as the sudden urge to lean toward him took hold.
“Which do you think would be better?” he asked from so close that his breath tickled her ear.
Oh, my. Heart pounding, she leaned in the opposite direction under the pretense of looking at another list, unable to think when he was so close. “Hmm. They all sound delicious. What is your grandmother’s favorite?”
They discussed the options and decided on sponge cake served with raspberry jam and whipped cream.
She avoided looking directly at Viscount Winstead as much as possible, and her eye caught on a stack of papers at the opposite side of the table, one of which was another drawing of a windmill.
“Is this one of yours as well?” she asked, pointing toward the detailed sketch.
He hesitated. “Yes,” he admitted with reluctance. “I brought them to show my grandmother as she likes to see any changes I’ve made. As you might have guessed, her interests are varied.”
“That is one of the reasons she’s such a delight to converse with.” Prue tapped a gloved finger near the paper as an idea took hold. “One of my uncles has a fascination with inventions.”
“Oh?”
“Arthur Harrison. Perhaps you are familiar with him. He’s made numerous investments in them over the years.” Prue didn’t miss the way the viscount stilled at her comment.
“I have heard of him. What type of inventions tend to pique his interest?” Winstead asked after a long moment.
“I couldn’t say for certain.” She looked up at him. “Would it be all right if I mentioned yours to him?” Her face heated with worry that she’d overstepped. After all, it wasn’t as if they knew one another well, and she was no expert in the subject. For all she knew, he didn’t need or want her help.
“I—” He bit off the reply as he seemed to reconsider his response. “I would appreciate that. Always interesting to hear the opinion of another gentleman who enjoys such things.”
“I will be certain to mention it when I see him tomorrow evening. Perhaps the two of you can meet to discuss it if he would like to learn more.”
“Certainly. The pleasure would be mine.” Viscount Winstead’s awkward movements as he turned away and then back, his gaze darting about the room, suggested his thoughts were racing at the possibility.
A little thrill ran through Prue at the hint of his excitement. She couldn’t help but try to reassure him. “Viscount Winstead—”
“Please, call me Silas.” He offered the lopsided smile that never failed to set flutters loose in her middle. “Since we are planning a party together, given names would be easier, wouldn’t you agree?”
She nodded, trying to remain practical instead of wondering how her name might sound in his deep voice. “Quite right. Please call me Prudence.”
His gaze lingered over her face as if matching her name with her features. A ridiculous thought when he already knew both. “Prudence.”
A tiny gasp escaped her. She dearly hoped he hadn’t heard it. She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Or Prue, if you’d prefer. That is what my family and friends often call me.”
“Prue.” His eyes lit even as he slowly smiled as if she’d given him an unexpected gift. “I should like that very much.”
She bit her lip, suddenly irritated with herself. Why was she allowing him to affect her this way when he hadn’t bothered to keep his word to dance with her? She didn’t pretend to understand the game he was playing, nor did she wish to be hurt by it.
And somehow, she knew she could be.
“As I was saying, from what little I know, Uncle Arthur has a fascination with inventions that make life better for people. I shall advise him of your basic idea and see what he thinks.”
“Thank you.” Silas nodded. “I look forward to hearing his thoughts.”
They returned to the remaining details of the party that needed attention, but Prue had trouble concentrating. All she could think about was why he hadn’t danced with her, especially since he’d danced with Millie.
“Did you enjoy the ball last evening?” The question slipped out, but she met his gaze, wanting him to know that she’d seen him there. Wanting to know what possible excuse he might have.
A scowl flashed across his face but was gone just as quickly. He rubbed the back of his neck as if uncomfortable. “Somewhat. Did you?”
Surprise caught her at the admission that he’d seen her there. “It was quite pleasant.” Except for one part.
“Please accept my apologies for not dancing with you.” His brow furrowed as he stared at the notes before them. “There were extenuating circumstances that prevented me from doing so.”