Page 23 of A Viscount's Bet of Seduction

Chapter 13

Silas followed behind at a slower pace than all of the others. He wanted a moment to think. His heart was still racing, after his amorous encounter with Lucy in the woods.

He recalled the way that she had gasped softly. She had liked what he had done, had clearly wanted him to continue. If only Dinah had come much later, then he might have been able to get somewhere.

He could see Lucy and his sister, their arms linked as they talked. Together, they looked like a Rococo painting, with Lucy in white and Dinah in a pale pink, their baskets dangling from their arms.

He was ashamed of accepting Percy’s bet, but he didn’t want to appear weak and back out of it. He would never hear the end of it. For Percy was, unfortunately, a part of their lives. The Sweet family would never be rid of him—not while the Stalton estate bordered their own.

The fact is, though, I’m actually interested in her. What I told her in the woods was true. She has changed things for me. Marriage wouldn’t be so bad, if she were my wife. She’s smart and strong. She would challenge me, just as I would challenge her.

He smiled to himself, imagining the possibility.

“What are you smiling about?” Levi asked.

Silas beamed at his friend, who had snuck up on him. “Reminiscing on other times,” he replied vaguely.

“Very well, then,” Levi replied. “Keep your secrets.”

“Oh, I will, my friend.”

The group arrived back at the house, where their baskets were collected by the scullery maids and brought to the cook, Mrs. Larson, who would make the berries into blackberry compote for dessert.

Silas trailed after the group, which was heading up to the parlour for glasses of fresh, cold lemonade before luncheon was served.

“Silas!” his father said, drawing him off to the side. The older members of the party had remained at the house, spending the morning playing cards and chatting in the cool indoors.

“Father.” He smiled. “How was your morning?”

“Very good. Us older folk have been sitting and playing cards.”

“Sounds like a nice, quiet morning.” Silas knew that it was the sort of morning that his father preferred.

“It was. A quiet morning, with a rousing discussion about the effects and uses of gruel in digestion.” His father was looking out over the group, a happy grin on his face. Including the Sweet family, their number was nearly twenty. The room was filled with conversation, which was like the low buzz of bees.

Silas’ gaze gravitated towards Lucy, who sat beside her aunt, deep in conversation. He could tell that the both of them were close, and that they both deeply cared for one another. They would have to be—from the sound of it, Miss Joan Wilds had raised Lucy after her parents’ passing.

He was thinking about how it would be Miss Joan Wilds from whom he’d have to ask permission.Or, would it be Lucy herself? he wondered. After all, she seemed so independent and fierce. His thoughts were interrupted by his father.

“What do you think of Miss Lucy Wilds?” His father beamed at him, clearly pleased that he had found the perfect match for Silas. He was right, of course.

Silas felt as though he’d been struck by lightning, but he recovered quickly. Silas was too proud to give his father what he wanted. He had fought against his family too hard and too long to give up that easily.

“I must get to know her better,” he replied soberly.

“I have something that I want to give you,” the viscount replied, thoughtfully. “But I feel that you’re not quite ready for it.” He was just reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket to take something out.

His curiosity piqued, Silas waited for his father to explain further. Josiah opened his mouth, but then was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Fort, the butler.

“A messenger has arrived, My Lord,” he said. “From London.” In his hand was a silver tray with a letter on top. Silas noticed the hand, which looked to be the writing of his father’s solicitor in London, who had a particularly distinctive flourish to his letters.

It must be serious. The solicitor had sent the update on their finances with Michael. He would have nothing to say, unless it was an emergency that had happened in the time since Michael had left the city.

“Excuse me,” his father said, taking the letter. He moved off to the side, where he broke the seal, then unfolded it. Silas watched, burning with curiosity as his father read the contents, a frown coming over his face.

He refolded it, putting it into his pocket.

“What does it say?” Silas asked.

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