Chapter 14
Fourteen
He was actually doing it.
Silas’s heart was hammering in his chest through the first four dances in the set as he waited for the moment he would trip and stumble.
Though he nearly turned the wrong direction when it came time for all the gentlemen to step forward and pass around their partners to the right, he caught himself in the nick of time.
He was nearly there.
More gratifying than his success was the look Miss Williams had given him in between songs.
(During the songs, he was too busy counting steps to look her way.) Her initial surprise had gradually been replaced by a joy that grew surer with every step.
They had already reached the finale now. Just a few more minutes.
Silas stepped forward to cross the set, giving his right hand to the blond lady opposite as he took her former place beside her partner, a gentleman thrice her age, then crossed back, this time giving his left hand.
There. Now he had nothing left to do except watch the other couples complete their turns and repeat the same steps a few times in between each pair. He’d done it.
When it came time for Hannah to step forward to meet her opposite, Silas was startled to realize the gentleman looked familiar.
He hadn’t had the luxury of studying the other dancers’ faces while he’d been busy studying their feet, but now that his part was nearly finished, he could watch them at his leisure.
Didn’t he know this old fellow with the yellowing handlebar mustache?
Silas didn’t think he was imagining it. The fellow looked at Miss Williams as if he knew her, extending his hand with a reluctance that bordered on insult.
She made no obvious reaction, but her face said everything. How had Silas failed to notice sooner?
Once Miss Williams was back at his side, he whispered, “Is that the same gentleman I saw leaving your house the other day?”
“Yes,” she hissed back quickly. “Sir Richard.” Then she linked her hand into his as they completed the set with a grand rond.
As all the dancers formed a circle for the last few bars, Silas made eye contact with Sir Richard.
He hadn’t gotten a good look at him the other time, but a closer inspection confirmed his first impression.
The man was more fit to be a grandfather than a groom.
How could Mrs. Williams have imagined that her vibrant, lively daughter belonged with this? It was disgusting!
When Silas had wondered what would push Hannah Williams to do something so drastic as hire a fiancé, he hadn’t truly understood what she was facing.
Or perhaps he had, and it was only that her hardship hadn’t looked so serious compared to his.
At least not when she’d still been a stranger to him, and one with enough food to eat and a roof over her head and fine clothes to wear.
It was different now that he knew Miss Williams had a gentle heart.
Now that he’d kissed her and made her smile and warmed himself by the light of her attention.
The idea of that old man putting his hands on Hannah filled Silas with such a visceral repulsion that it was all he could do not to breach the formation and grab Sir Richard by the collar.
The object of Silas’s resentment began to grow pale beneath the sheen of sweat that dotted his brow.
Silas must have allowed his anger to show too plainly.
He tried to school his features into a more neutral expression by the time the last notes rang out and it was time to bow to Miss Williams, though it wasn’t easy.
“Let’s go,” he murmured. “We’ve finished our dance.” He needed to get out of here.
Mrs. Williams was waiting for them as soon as they withdrew from the floor, nearly as breathless as if she had been the one turning about to the music instead of her daughter. “That was remarkably competent, Mr. Corbyn. Truly.”
Had she actually complimented him? “Remarkably competent” might not sound like high praise from anyone else, but from Mrs. Williams it was nothing short of a miracle.
“Wasn’t he marvelous?” Miss Williams smiled. She was glowing from the exertion.
Silas should have been pleased to earn their approval—a minute ago, it was all he’d wanted—but the image of Sir Richard had spoiled his moment.
Was he supposed to forget that she’d wanted that man for her daughter until Silas had chased him off?
He wasn’t sure that he could talk to Mrs. Williams without telling her exactly what he thought of her original choice of a husband for Hannah.
You aren’t anyone’s choice for a husband, he reminded himself. You have no business getting jealous over a dried-up old codger.
“Thank you.” He forced the words out through stiff lips. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’m going to find some refreshment.”
He should have offered to fetch something for Miss Williams, but he didn’t want a reason to come back here. He would do better to avoid her mother for the rest of the evening, lest he lose his self-control and say something he might regret before the proper time came.
Silas made his way to the balcony for some air to cool his head, pausing on the way to accept another glass of iced punch from a passing footman.
He took a long swallow, followed by a long breath of the night air.
The sound of footsteps alerted him that he wasn’t alone.
When he turned, he saw Miss Williams lingering in the doorway.
“You followed me.”
“Of course I did. I thought we agreed to spend the evening doing what we liked together. Why did you rush off?”
“I wanted to clear my head.” Noticing that Miss Williams had found her own glass of punch along the way, he warned, “Careful with that. It’s strong.”
“I know.” She took a sip anyway. “I thought you’d be happy at how smoothly the dance went. Did I do something to upset you?”
“You?” he repeated. What had he done to make her think that? “No. Just the opposite. I was annoyed at seeing Sir Richard.”
“But why? You don’t even know each other. Did he say something to you?”
“He didn’t need to. It’s the idea of it. Him and you. It’s…” Silas trailed off on a wince, aware that he was too angry about this. He swallowed the rest of his drink and set the empty glass down. “Why did your mother choose him, anyway?”
“He’s a baronet.”
“No better reason than that?”
“A rich baronet with no sons,” Miss Williams amended, as if that changed everything.
Perhaps it did. Women needed security, didn’t they?
A baronet with a bit of money was worth ten of Silas, at least in the eyes of Mrs. Williams. “And it was after our kiss, so I don’t think Mama had many options left. ”
“You mean to say that if I hadn’t ruined you, you might have done better.”
“Mr. Corbyn. I think we both know that I ruined myself, and you were simply caught in the crossfire.” Her lips were soft and plump as she brought them to the rim of her glass.
Silas wasn’t thinking of that first kiss any longer, the one that had ruined her.
It was their other kiss that took hold of his impulses.
The one that hadn’t been for show. She’d made such an interesting little whimper toward the end.
“The last thing I would want is for you to feel any sense of obligation over my decision. I was never going to make a good match, you know. That was half the problem.”
“Why not?”
Miss Williams looked at him with suspicion, as if not quite sure whether he was mocking her.
“Because I’m neither charming nor pretty enough to attract suitors on my own.
I have nothing to offer but my dowry, which isn’t large.
The sort of men who are eager to settle for a girl with nothing to offer but a few thousand pounds are a wretched lot.
They scarcely even bother to speak to you as if you’re a person. ”
Miss Williams delivered this speech very matter-of-factly, but her voice wavered on that last part. She might want to appear indifferent, but the hurt was there for anyone to see.
For Silas to see, at least. He knew what it was like to feel second-rate.
Growing up on the Libertas, then on the Echo, the distinction between the enlisted men and the gentlemen had been ever-present.
No matter how hard he’d tried, there had been an unspoken understanding that separated them into those who mattered and those who didn’t.
But no one should have made Miss Williams feel that way. She was thoughtful, and kind, and far stronger in spirit than she looked. She was one of the ones that mattered. Anyone could see that.
“‘Charm’ is just another word for a pleasing falsehood,” he said firmly. “I’ve never seen the use for it.”
“I’ve noticed that.” A faint smile toyed with the corners of her lips.
“And as for pretty…” He drew near Miss Williams, until only the barest inch of space stood between them. Her smile faltered, replaced by that look she always gave him when he got too close. A painful cross between longing and doubt.
Silas couldn’t help it. He wanted to scrub the doubt away and replace it with an emotion more to his liking.
Passion, maybe. He pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his pocket so that he could run his bare thumb along Miss Williams’s jaw and turn her chin up toward him.
She shivered, her body confessing the power he held over her more clearly than her words ever could.
“Don’t underestimate yourself,” he whispered, before he finally took what he’d been wanting for half the night.
Her lips were soft and yielding. There was no surprise in her reaction this time. She opened to him quickly, as if answering the question he wouldn’t ask aloud. Yes, I’m yours. Yes.
It was a fantasy. Silas knew that. But she’d encouraged him to do what he wanted this evening, and what he wanted was to pretend they were real.