He frowned. “Of course you do.”
“Of course I don’t.” She tilted her chin and took advantage of the small island of privacy surrounding them to confide her wicked intentions. “I am, however, in the market for a lover.”
As she’d expected, her pronouncement didn’t shock Silas. His tolerant attitude was among the many things she liked about him. He regarded her thoughtfully. “Is that an invitation, Caro?”
She stared into his unwavering hazel eyes. Around her, the crowded ballroom receded strangely until she and Silas seemed alone together.
Caroline hadn’t blushed since before she’d married Freddie. But something in Silas’s expression brought color to her cheeks and a disconcerting stumble to her heart. Which was absurd. Even without Helena’s warnings—and her friend had early dampened any thought of setting her cap at Silas—she’d soon recognized that he never took his conquests seriously. While for all their shared jokes, she did take this friendship seriously.
When she’d mentally listed the men she’d consider inviting to her bed, she hadn’t included Silas. She couldn’t bear for him to dismiss her the way he dismissed all his flirts beyond the immediate seduction.
And if he didn’t dismiss her, what then? She didn’t want anything that required a commitment. As she’d told Silas, she was never going to marry again. Tiptoeing around Freddie’s feelings had been hard enough. Catering to a man who loved her, a man she wanted to please, was signing up for another life sentence.
Far better Silas remained her dear friend and she sought physical pleasure elsewhere.
After a month in society, she’d seen enough to know that a dashing widow would easily find a lover. Replacing a true friend was an entirely different matter. Which meant she stalwartly ignored the unprecedented catch in her breath when Silas focused that green-gold stare on her. Even if he looked like he’d need little encouragement to sweep her off and prove his reputation as a devil with the ladies.
“I’m more than you can handle,” she said lightly with a flutter of her fan. “You like them silly and flighty. Neither word applies to me.”
His mouth firmed when she’d hoped to make him smile. “That sounds like a challenge.”
Startled, she looked at him properly. Their interactions were usually unshadowed, a blessing in a world that had varied between black and gray as long as hers had. She’d imagined, once she left her seclusion behind, that the easy camaraderie would continue. Perhaps she’d been naive.
He looked disgruntled. It took her so long to interpret the expression because she’d never seen it on his face before. Sulking sat surprisingly well on Silas’s vivid features. Which obscurely annoyed her more than it should.
No woman could miss how attractive Silas was, but so far, she’d admired his spectacular looks as one might admire a fine painting. A brooding Lord Stone became unacceptably compelling. She forced a laugh and wished she sounded more natural. She snapped her fan shut and tapped him on the arm. “You’re teasing.”
Still he didn’t smile. “Am I?”
A horrible thought arose, scattering her archness. “Good God, Silas, don’t say you disapprove of my plans? I never imagined you’d be mealy mouthed about a few adventures, not when you’ve been mad for the girls since you went to Cambridge.”
The grim expression didn’t lighten. She’d never seen him so stern. “Apparently Helena’s been spreading tales about more than this evening’s entertainments.”
His unfavorable reaction left her flummoxed. Lord Stone’s beautiful manners were touted as society’s ideal. His careless wit and graceful demeanor were much praised. Yet he responded now with neither wit nor grace, when she’d expected him to applaud her daring.
Caroline became annoyed. With Silas Nash, of all people. “I was a good and faithful wife to Frederick Beaumont. And I nearly perished of boredom as a result. If I choose to take a lover or two now, it’s entirely my decision. If that doesn’t fit some hypocritical view you have of respectable women, that’s too bad. I won’t apologize.”
She waited for him to respond with equal heat, but after a fraught second while she braced for a scolding, he sucked in a breath and the temper faded from his expression. “Let’s not quarrel, Caro. Not tonight when you’re basking in your success.”
“Your censure oversteps the mark, my lord,” she said stiffly, telling herself to accept his olive branch. But worse than anger, she was hurt that someone she’d counted as an ally turned against her.
His lips quirked and abruptly he became the easygoing companion who had helped her weather all those humdrum tea parties. “‘My lord?’ Oh, the pain. I’ll never recover. You know how to strike a man down, Lady Beaumont.”
Despite her disquiet, she couldn’t suppress a faint smile. “I probably shouldn’t have told you my plans. I’ve become too used to confiding in you.” She studied him searchingly. “If I lost your regard, I’d be cast low indeed.”
He expelled his breath with a hint of impatience. “Don’t be a goose, Caro. You haven’t lost my regard. You never could.” He glanced around the packed room. “I’ll prove it by asking you to dance.”
The fa
miliar benevolence settled on his features, but she hadn’t mistaken his anger in those brief moments of discord. She battled the uncomfortable suspicion that she didn’t know Silas Nash at all.
“I must check on the supper,” she said quickly, although it wasn’t true. She needed to gather her composure. Their discussion had come too close to argument and left her on edge. Fear beat in her blood, chilled her on this warm night. If Silas withdrew his friendship, she’d miss him like the devil.
“Given the interest our contretemps has aroused, a waltz would be the wiser choice.”
She started. Good heavens. What on earth was wrong with her? She’d forgotten where she was. She’d taken so much trouble to establish herself in society. Now in bickering with a rake, she risked all she’d gained. A quick reconnoiter indicated more than one pair of eyes focused on her. She caught Helena’s concerned dark gaze and sent her a reassuring smile.
“You’re right,” she said, still reluctant to step into Silas’s arms for the dance. Then she squared her shoulders and damned the world, and Lord Stone with it. She’d lived too long as a mouse. Now she meant to be a tiger.