He paused to stare out the window, the steady drizzle a perfect match for his mood. Not even the fire in the hearth could chase away the chill that had seeped into him on the drive over for another meeting with Prue.
Two nights ago at the ball, he’d held hope the future might be turning in his favor. Yes, he’d spoken with another heiress, and she seemed interested in him, or at least, in his title. He’d also been asked to dance by one of the wallflowers, which had been quite sweet.
But the times he spent with Prue were showing him another path—one that led to a future filled with happiness, and dare he say, love.
He should’ve known better. After all, Hayworths weren’t known for their luck, only their charm and looks. Why should he be any different?
Mr. Harrison had returned his plans and sketches when they’d met that morning. The investor group decided against proceeding with his idea. How unfortunate that Professor Ridley, the man who hadn’t liked his plans years ago, happened to be part of the group.
Prue’s uncle had been apologetic and seemed puzzled by the vote. “Ridley was adamant the design wouldn’t make a significant difference in a windmill’s production,” he’d explained. “His opinion swayed the group.”
As if realizing how disappointed Silas was, the older man had placed a hand on Silas’s shoulder. “There are other investor groups out there. If you have a prototype made and test the effectiveness, that will surely gain more interest.”
Mr. Harrison might as well have suggested that Silas fly to the moon. Making one blade might be possible. But without significant resources, making an entire windmill and testing it against a standard one was out of the question.
He hadn’t realized how hopeful he’d been until hearing the news. He felt crushed, not to mention bitter and angry, at fate. No matter that he knew those emotions would not serve him.
“Lady Prudence, my lord,” Wilson announced from the doorway, his concerned expression suggesting he sensed something was amiss.
That was a reminder to hide his distress. He couldn’t allow Prue to realize the depths of his devastation.
But he needed to step back from her. It wasn’t fair to her to continue their...friendship. The term did not define what burned between them or the joy that filled Silas when he was with her.
Even now, the sight of her smile had him reaching for one of his own. Yet when hers faltered, he knew he hadn’t hidden his upset.
“Silas? Whatever is wrong?” she asked as she came to stand before him.
He resisted the urge to draw her into his arms and take comfort in her presence. She was not his, and now it was clear she never would be.
He attempted a sheepish look to lighten the mood. “Please ignore me. I had unwelcome news this morning, and I suppose I’m still out of sorts.”
With another quick smile, something that had always been his best defense, he turned aside.
“What is it?” she asked, moving to better look at him, her gaze searching his face. “Your mother and grandmother are well?”
“Yes, quite well.” She would hear the news sooner or later anyway. He glanced at the set of papers he’d brought with him from the meeting. “Your uncle’s investment group decided against proceeding with the design.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry to hear that.” The sympathy in her tone provided some comfort. “Why don’t I speak with him and ask—”
“No need.” He held up a hand to stop her. Clearly his idea wasn’t good enough or they would’ve moved forward. “I’m pleased I made one more attempt with it. Otherwise, I would’ve always wondered.” He shook his head. “Now I know it won’t work.”
“That’s not true.” She placed a gloved hand on his arm, but he had to pull away, unable to bear her touch. “Silas, you know in your heart it’s a fine idea and would help others. You can’t give up.”
“I must. My attention needs to shift elsewhere.” On finding a wealthy bride as soon as possible. Dragging it out wasn’t helping anyone. He’d been told from his youth what was expected of him. What a fool he’d been to think he had the intelligence to escape that destiny and forge his own.
“To what?” Prue asked, a hint of steel in her tone. “This is important. Even your grandmother sees that.”
He closed his eyes at the thought of how disappointed she would be. Telling her would be nearly as painful as telling Prue.
“Prue.” Silas forced himself to look at her again but was careful not to touch her. “I am sorry.”
“For what?” Wariness darkened her eyes.
“For allowing my...desire for you to overcome good sense. I hope my attentions didn’t hurt you.” He clenched his hands to keep from reaching for her. “I am sorry for taking liberties when I shouldn’t have.”
“I am capable of saying no if it wasn’t what I wanted.” Though her words were bold, a blush rose on her cheeks.
“Yes, you are very capable.” He nodded. Dear heaven, but he was going to miss her. “And lovely and intelligent. I hope you find a man who deserves you. I wish it could be me.”