He knew she was worried about him, but right now she wasn’t the focus of his interest. His fight to win a certain troublesome widow was. He needed every ounce of cunning and resourcefulness to ensure his victory, and Helena’s interference was an unwelcome distraction. He felt brittle and alert like a man on the eve of battle, the way he did when his experiments verged on a breakthrough.
Caroline Beaumont didn’t know it yet, but her dashing days were about to end.
“Good morning to you, Hel.” He shifted his gaze from where Caroline’s curricle turned off the road onto the grass. “Perhaps if you looked less set on a scolding, I might be less eager to take to my heels.”
“I’m not going to give you a scolding,” she said, and they both heard the unspoken “even if I should” at the end of that sentence.
“You couldn’t say anything that I haven’t already said to myself.” Caro’s presence set him bristling with awareness, like a hound scenting a fox. “I have no idea what got into me yesterday.”
That was a lie. He and Helena both knew what had got into him. Volcanic passion too long suppressed.
“Well, given the risks you took, you’ve got the devil’s own luck.”
“Have I?” It didn’t feel that way, not after he’d told Caro he loved her and she’d thrown his words back in his teeth.
Helena must have heard the grimness underlying his question because her martial air eased. “Well, in one respect at least. A scandal’s unlikely. The servants were all downstairs having their dinner when you—”
“Lost my head?”
“From what I can gather, nobody saw a thing. Which is a better outcome than you deserved. Good God, seducing Caro in a building made of glass—it beggars the imagination.”
“You said no scolding, Hel.”
Her lips tightened. “Very well. I imagine you’ve spent the night cursing yourself anyway. You don’t need me to join in.”
It was true. Or it had been until he’d visited West and set today’s nefarious plan in train. He kicked idly at a tree root and cast Helena a sidelong glance. “What did Caro say after you took her inside?”
She sent him a disgusted look. “I’m not going to tell you that.”
“Pity. I could do with an inside track advantage.” His attention returned to the neat little carriage rolling toward the picnic site and his eyebrows rose in surprise. “Good God, Fenella is quite the whip. I had no idea.”
Helena turned to take in her friend’s unexpected skills as a driver, but stuck to her topic. “Caro means to have West. I’ll tell you that much.”
A faint smile lightened Silas’s expression. “There’s many a slip between cup and lip.”
Helena was no fool. She immediately guessed there was some scheme afoot. “What does that mean?” she asked sharply.
His smile intensified. “It means that the race is not yet over.”
She touched his arm and spoke urgently. “Silas, even if you want her…”
He met her eyes, making no attempt to conceal his emotion. “You know that it’s worse than that. I love her.”
Compassion softened Helena’s disapproving expression. “I also know you’ve got some mischief in mind, but please be careful. She’s nowhere near as indomitable as she acts.”
“I don’t intend to hurt her.”
Her smile was sad. “You mightn’t intend to, but that doesn’t mean you won’t.”
“You two are being dashed unsociable,” West drawled, prowling up behind Silas. “Save the family reunion for your own time. I’ve got a dozen footmen standing idle, ready to answer every whim. If you persist in loitering over here in isolation, you’ll hurt their feelings.”
“West,” Silas said, and caught his sister’s surprise at the greeting’s lack of hostility. “You’ve been deuced fortunate with the sunshine.”
“I have contacts in high places.”
“More likely down below,” Helena muttered. His sister was the only person Silas knew who didn’t melt under West’s famous charm. West had introduced Helena to his great chum, Lord Crewe, and she’d never forgiven him.
West bowed over Helena’s hand and sent her a glinting glance from beneath his heavy eyelids. “Put away your barbs, my prickly lady. It’s too nice a day for sniping.”