Chapter 9
Nine
“Did you trim your fingernails?”
“Of course I did.” Silas’s tone was clipped. “I’m not an unwashed bumpkin.”
“And you’ve combed your hair?” Marian continued her inquisition, apparently unconvinced.
“Yes, yes.”
Had he thought he would appreciate living with family? Marian’s fussing had grown irritating as the hour of his supper with Miss Williams drew near.
“You should see about getting a new tailcoat.” Marian adjusted Silas’s white cravat and stood back to inspect the results. “This one is too snug in the shoulders for you.”
She was right, but Silas wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of admitting it.
“We don’t have funds to waste on a tailor.” He couldn’t seem to stop his hands from fidgeting, his fingers alighting on anything within reach. “Anyway, this will all be over before he has time to sew me a coat.”
It wasn’t as though he’d had much need for black formal attire before now.
Silas had worn his naval uniform to most of the dinner engagements in his previous life.
But the prospect of sitting down to dine with the Williams family while they picked apart his every flaw made him wish he had something better in his closet.
What had he been thinking when he’d agreed to this?
Mrs. Williams hated him. The only two times they’d met, she’d either been beating him with something or trying to manhandle him off her property.
And Mrs. Eli Williams probably wasn’t too happy about the scandal he’d caused at her card club.
Her husband, the only person in the room whom he might once have counted a friend, was convinced Silas meant to take advantage of his little sister.
How was he supposed to win over these people?
“I don’t think I can do this,” Silas muttered. “I’m going to say something wrong.”
“Of course you can do it.” Marian brushed a stray hair from his lapels. “You’re a hundred times more genteel than any of us. What were all those tutoring sessions for, if not this?”
Silas said nothing.
His father had believed that a good education would help his son impress the officers and mingle in the right circles. If courting a well-bred lady had ever been on the agenda, it must have been a far more distant goal, only possible once he’d made his fortune.
But you never made it that far, did you?
Never mind. He wasn’t really courting Miss Williams. He was performing a chore for her—one that would benefit them both. That was all.
“You’re sure this chit’s finally going to pay you?” James asked, watching them both from the other side of the room, where he stood leaning against the doorframe.
“As sure as I can be without speaking to her.”
“Sounds balmy, if you ask me.” James frowned to himself. “Why would she want to be ruined?”
The story did sound a bit absurd when Silas laid it all out.
“That’s her concern,” he replied. He couldn’t afford to start second-guessing his choice now, or he would never make it to dinner. “What matters is, she can help us get enough for your brewery. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Marian, help me with these cuff links, won’t you?”
“But she still hasn’t even paid what you’re owed from the last time.” James frowned to himself. “Wouldn’t it be simpler just to marry her?”
Silas would have choked if his mouth weren’t empty. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Language,” Marian chided as she fastened the cuffs on his left sleeve.
“If her family is as well-to-do as you say, she must have a dowry, yeah? And I reckon it’s worth more than whatever she’s giving you in bits and bobs for showing up to pretend you’re in love and fool her mum, or whatnot.
” James shrugged. “So why not marry her? Then you get all the money and we can do whatever we want with it. Seems safer than waiting and hoping she pays.”
“She doesn’t want to get married,” Silas explained. “That’s the whole point of this.”
“You sure the whole point isn’t just that she’s sweet on you and wants an excuse to keep you coming back?”
The look James shot his way rattled Silas’s understanding of the situation.
Could Miss Williams have done all this to get his attention? It seemed a bizarre means to ensnare him. And her distress that first night in the club’s office had been real enough. He didn’t think her tears had been false.
James doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
He cast a glance at Marian, who seemed to sense his doubt. “Don’t pay any mind to James,” she assured him, echoing his thoughts. “He’s always spotting attachments where there are none. Still…”
“Still?” Not a word he cared to hear at this juncture.
“It is a bit odd, her calling you back again and again this way.” Marian raised her eyebrows in a knowing manner. “And you do seem to enjoy playing knight-errant to her, or you wouldn’t keep answering.”
“I’m not playing knight-errant!” Silas sputtered. What nonsense. They’d never even met Miss Williams, and they thought they knew everything about her. “I’m going for your sake,” he reminded them. “Or would you rather I stayed home and missed our chance to get the funds we need?”
“Of course we wouldn’t rather you stayed home,” James replied easily. “I’ve just said I think you should marry her, haven’t I? Why won’t you consider it? Isn’t she pretty?”
Silas recalled Miss Williams’s face: the way her rich brown eyes sparkled with determination; her straight, dark brows; the heart-shaped lips that had surprised him with their eagerness when she’d kissed him; her nose that was a touch too long.
“She’s…handsome enough,” he concluded, feeling a bit uneasy at this realization. This whole thing would be a good deal less complicated if he didn’t think about whether or not Miss Williams was attractive.
“Then stop stalling and go make us rich. It’s not every day one of ours gets a chance to catch one of theirs.”
“Are you going to be like this all the time?” Silas snapped, annoyed at his brother’s meddling. His view of the evening had been much simpler before James started talking. “I’m starting to wish I’d stayed at the boardinghouse.”
“You don’t mean that,” Marian said. “But James is right that you should be off.” She gave him a final once-over and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “You have nothing to be nervous about. You look very dashing, no matter how the coat fits.”
“I’m not nervous,” he grumbled. Nor did he care if he looked dashing.
“Good.” She smiled knowingly. “Because there’s no need to be.”
Silas snatched his hat and went out.
Williams had sent his carriage over to spare him the embarrassment of arriving by hackney, which was irritatingly thoughtful of him.
It made Silas feel that much worse about his deceit. But he wasn’t truly doing anything wrong, was he? It was no more than Miss Williams had asked of him. And he wasn’t toying with her heart; he was sure of it. Almost entirely. It was only James’s baseless rambling that had put doubt in his head.
He had the entire ride to Mayfair to ruminate on the matter, so that by the time he arrived, Silas had nearly decided to ask the driver to turn around and take him back.
The white stucco facade of the town house looked too pristine for him, perched between its neighbors with its perfectly trimmed hedges and manicured lawn.
Recalling how he’d spent his last visit to this place circling around those very hedges while the maid and Mrs. Williams tried to drive him from the property, Silas felt his face grow hot.
He forced himself to march up the path and knock on the front door, pushing the memory down as deep as it would go.
Marian was right; he’d been trained for this. Even if it had never come naturally to him, he’d been taught what fork to use and how to sip his soup quietly and a hundred other tiny rules to keep from making a complete ass of himself in front of his betters.
He could do this. He could be what Miss Williams wanted him to be, if only for one night.
Williams and his wife were the first ones to greet Silas once he was shown into their receiving room by the same maid who’d tried to run him off.
Despite their obvious reservations, the couple put on a good face, asking him a few polite questions about the weather and the ease of his journey over.
(No one had the courage for more dangerous subjects, it would seem.) It was only when Miss Williams and her mother entered the room a moment later that things grew truly awkward.
“Good evening, Mr. Corbyn,” Mrs. Williams greeted him. Her lips pinched shut as soon as the words were out, as if she’d smelled something unpleasant. When she looked him over, her eyes lingered at the seams on his shoulders where the fabric puckered.
So much for her change of heart.
“Good evening, Mrs. Williams.” He focused on keeping his bow smooth and unhurried, despite the hot, prickling feeling inching up the back of his neck.
She was looking at him like he was a street urchin who’d wandered in to beg for scraps.
Silas clenched his teeth and forced some more platitudes out. “Thank you for the invitation.”
He turned his attention to her daughter, eager to escape Mrs. Williams’s scrutiny before he lost his temper and gave offense.
The young lady was dressed in a gold and emerald gown, with a matching gold ribbon woven into the elaborate braid that secured her dark-brown hair around her head like a crown.
Everything about her was meant to look dazzling and expensive.
Regal. When he’d first met Miss Williams, he might have judged her too self-conscious to live up to such a descriptor, but now Silas knew better.
She had a streak of determination at her core, despite her shyness.
When their eyes met, she offered a tentative smile, blushed, and quickly looked away. Silas bowed and murmured a greeting to her in return, thinking about what James had said.