As they rolled on, she felt Silas studying her through the darkness. He had his back to the horses while she faced forward. She suffered an illogical, pathetic impulse to ask him to sit beside her and take her into his arms. She’d never felt so alone in her life.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your delightful evening.” This time, not even the kindest ear could miss the sour note.
“Are you feeling better?” he said mildly. “You looked ready to collapse at the Oldhams’.”
“How considerate of you to notice.”
His sigh was long-suffering. “What’s wrong, Caro? You’ve been staring daggers at me all week.”
I want you to be my friend again. I want you to smile at me the way you used to. I want to know that you and I are united in a conspiracy against the rest of the world. I want you to tell me that you’re not in love with Fenella.
Of course she didn’t say any of that. It would be too revealing.
“There’s nothing wrong,” she muttered, looking blindly out at the rows of quiet houses along South Audley Street.
She didn’t need to see his frown to know it was there. “Perhaps you should get out of London for a few days. Fenella’s right. You’ve thrown yourself into the season like a general on campaign. It’s time to rest on your laurels before the next battle.” His tone hardened. “West will wait a week or so, I’m sure.”
The jibe hurt. What right had Silas to point the finger of disapproval? Temper came to her rescue. She’d rather be angry than bawl like a lost calf. She faced him, catching the glint of his eyes through the darkness. “I could take him with me.”
Except strangely, Vernon Grange wasn’t her preferred companion in this mythical rural idyll. The man she wanted to be alone with was Silas Nash. She must be losing her mind.
“Why don’t you?” Silas asked with a bite. He reached out to grip the base of the open window. The light from the carriage’s exterior lamps shone on fingers curled taut over the dark wood. “I’m sure he’d leap at the chance to consummate your affair in some secret love nest.”
His contemptuous tone made her bristle. “Who’s to say the consummation hasn’t already taken place?” she asked with poisonous sweetness.
His breath hissed out before a lacerating silence crashed down. Caroline’s stomach knotted in horror. What the devil was wrong with her? Frantically she wished the lying words unsaid, but pride stopped her from backtracking.
After what felt like an hour, Silas spoke. She braced for another lecture on her recklessness, but he sounded tired and flat in a way she’d never heard him before. “I hope you’ll both be very happy.”
“We are,” she said defiantly, even as she told herself it was time to shut up. In fact, she should have kept her mouth closed the entire trip.
“Then I’m bloody delighted for you,” he said savagely.
The coach stopped outside her house. Caroline had never imagined she’d be so desperate to escape Silas. In earlier, happier days, the time they spent together had always seemed too short, they had so much to say. She’d lost him, and she didn’t know why. The skin across her temple
s was tight and throbbing with a headache. She longed for the privacy to cry her eyes out in a way she hadn’t since she was a silly girl.
“Good night, Silas,” she said in a thick voice, her hand fumbling for the catch on the door. She didn’t want to spend a moment longer in this carriage than she had to.
“Caro, wait,” he said softly, catching her arm just as she found the trick of the fastening.
“I’m tired,” she said, hating the whine in her voice. No wonder Silas preferred Fenella.
“I know you are. I’ve acted like an utter swine. I have no business criticizing your choices. I’m sorry.”
Strangely his concession didn’t lift her spirits. She was the one who had acted badly, not Silas. “You—”
John, her footman, opened the door and saved her from having to respond to Silas’s unnecessary apology. She felt horrible—lumpen and ungracious and stupid and mean. She hadn’t felt so useless since she’d forsaken Lincolnshire in search of a reinvented self.
“I’ll walk you to your door.”
“There’s no need,” she mumbled.
“You’re not well.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” she said, wondering if they’d carve that lying little phrase on her tombstone.
“Nevertheless.”