“Oh?” Disbelief took hold. She couldn’t imagine what they might be.
“I do hope you can forgive me.” The sincerity in his brown eyes, when he looked back at her, had her nodding before she thought twice.
Drat. Why couldn’t she remember that charming rogues were not for her?
The sooner the birthday party was over the better. Silas was a handsome complication she didn’t need. Her attraction to him would only lead to trouble.
Chapter Four
Silas entered the Vaughn ballroom three days later and immediately searched for Lady Prudence. Or rather, Prue, as she’d suggested he call her. The shortened version of her name fit her perfectly, hinting at the depth of personality beneath her shy façade.
That she’d granted him permission for the informal name suggested they were friends, something he treasured. In truth, he had many acquaintances but few true friends. He gave himself a mental shake, certain he was making too much of the situation, yet he couldn’t help himself.
Her offer to speak to her uncle on his behalf had stunned him, especially when he hadn’t made good on his own offer to dance with her. He’d hardly known what to say when she’d made the suggestion.
Arthur Harrison was well known for his innovative investments. Silas wouldn’t have thought to try to gain the man’s attention if not for Prue. That showed just how timid he’d been about seeing his idea through.
While anxious to speak with Mr. Harrison, Silas was also terrified. If the man dismissed his idea like Professor Ridley had, Silas didn’t think he’d have the courage to pursue it any further. It would be the end of his dream.
Apparently, Silas’s failure to ask Prue to dance had bothered her or she wouldn’t have mentioned the ball. It had been on the tip of his tongue to tell her about the wager. Perhaps she would share word of it, ensuring Maynard’s plan was foiled and none of the men involved would win.
But telling her meant confessing his own participation, something he wasn’t proud of, especially since he couldn’t help but wonder if some of the other wallflowers dismissed by the ton might be as interesting as Prue. Those in Society placed too much importance on superficial qualities like titles, money, and appearance, ignoring the person.
He realized he truly wanted to dance with her, certain it would be more than enjoyable. He liked being with her. With a smothered groan, he shook his head. The least he could do was admit the truth to himself. Prue appealed to him on every level—mind and body.
She was pretty, even more so the better he came to know her. Her intelligence was admirable, along with her obvious regard for her family. Even his grandmother liked Prue, and she found most ladies that age silly and thoughtless.
Lady Prudence was worth a second look, followed by a third. It was only after he’d spent time with her that he noted the gold flecks in her blue eyes, how her alabaster skin glowed with good health, and her lithe body stole into his dreams.
His gaze swept the ballroom, and he quickly found her speaking with several other ladies. The sight of her eased a tightness in his chest he hadn’t realized was there.
He paused a moment to admire her appearance, finding it difficult to pull away his attention.
This evening, she wore a shimmering pale blue gown with dark pink trim. The small expanse of skin the gown’s neckline revealed begged to be kissed. Her upswept hair brought the graceful line of her neck to his notice when she turned to speak with one of the ladies. The way she comported herself with poise and serenity caused his mouth to go dry and his palms to dampen.
Since when did demure young ladies catch his eye? The alarming question was enough to have him jerking away his gaze. He was not courting her, he reminded himself. Such a thing was out of the question. Their interactions were a result of his grandmother’s birthday party and nothing more. Chances were that nothing would come of her speaking to her uncle about the windmill blade design if she had even remembered to do so.
In truth, he’d been able to think of little else since they last met. His mood had shifted between hope and despair that anything would come of her offer. No matter how many times he’d commanded himself to let the idea go, he couldn’t quite manage it.
He started forward, telling himself he could relax once he heard whatever news she had to share and proceed with the evening.
The lady to whom Prue was speaking turned and glanced his way, eyes widening at the sight of his approach. Only then did he realize she was the one he’d danced with at the last ball. She must be Prue’s cousin since they shared the same last name.
Hopefully, Miss Davies didn’t think he intended to ask for another dance. Yet her expression filled with anticipation, causing his jaw to clench.
Blast the damned wager. Why had he ever agreed to it?
He shifted his gaze to Prue, who had also turned to watch him approach. A hint of a blush rose in her cheeks, a reminder that the evening was a social gathering requiring pleasantries and the like. He couldn’t simply inquire whether she’d spoken to her uncle or ask about the man’s response. Yet he realized his desire to speak with her wasn’t merely because of her uncle. He liked her and the way he felt when he was with her.
He managed a smile despite the nerves racing through him as he drew to a halt before the ladies. “Good evening.”
“How nice to see you again, Viscount Winstead,” Miss Davies said.
“I hope the evening finds you well,” Prue added.
“Indeed, it does.” He glanced between the two of them. “And you?”
“Quite well,” Miss Davies said, gloved hands clasped before her.