Page 13 of To Break the Rules

“Sure it’s not just your natural charm bringing out the worst in her, my lord?” Fred volunteered with a sly grin.

Silas snorted, his eyebrows hitting his hairline. “Why in God’s name did I employ you?”

He glowered and looked thoroughly forbidding, though Fred could see the amusement in the man’s eyes clear enough.

“You’re an impudent scoundrel, Davis. Damned if I know why my father bore with you all these years.”

“Oh, I was never rude to the old viscount, my lord,” Fred said with a shrug. “He’d ’ave belted me.”

“What makes you think I won’t?” Silas demanded, looking somewhat affronted.

Fred grinned at him, gathering up his scissors and combs and heading for the door to make a quick exit. “’Cause, for all your denials and bluster, you’re more of a gentleman than your father ever was.”

***

6th July 1814. The Earl of Ulceby’s ball, Hyde Park, London.

“Well, well. Here we are again.”

Silas repressed a groan as the Earl of St Clair cornered him. He’d been lingering on the periphery of the grand ballroom, looking thunderous in the hope everyone would leave him alone.

So much for that idea.

“And looking remarkably dapper, too,” St Clair continued, ignoring his friend’s warning look as he walked a circle around him. “Not a crease or crinkle to be seen, and that cravat…! My word, Cavendish, you almost look like a gentleman.”

That comment, coming from anybody else, would have earned the speaker a broken nose. As it was, Silas glowered at him. “Pike off, you damned coxcomb,” he muttered

“Oh, no, no, no. I’m desperate to see your face.”

Despite knowing better, Silas turned to regard St Clair. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I want to see the look on your face when you see her.”

They both knew St Clair didn’t need to elaborate on exactly who he meant.

Feeling foolish and aggravated, Silas folded his arms and refused to say another word. Not that he could have done anyway; at that moment he caught sight of her, arm in arm with Matilda Hunt as they walked into the room. They were the midday sun and a starry midnight sky. Matilda Hunt wore a gown of sky blue, her blonde hair shimmering gold under the blaze of hundreds of candles. Lucia, by contrast, wore a deep, rich purple, the colour of black cherries. Her black hair shone, thick and lustrous, and Silas ached to take down the heavy locks and watch them spill around her shoulders in a wave of darkest silk.

They were probably two of the least marriageable ladies in the room, both tarnished by scandal and dubious reputations. There wasn’t a soul here, however, who could have denied they were the most beautiful, the most desirable.

The most trouble.

“Yes, that’s the look I was waiting for. Like a fox when the hounds have caught his scent. You poor bastard.”

The earl’s smug voice filtered through Silas’ mind and he ignored it. He was past caring.

“Go to the devil, St Clair,” he muttered, moving forward and keeping Lucia in his sights. His heart was beating too fast, and he knew he was in danger of playing the fool for this woman, but he couldn’t help himself. There was such defiance in her eyes, as if she was waiting for an insult, waiting for someone to realise she didn’t belong.

Having spent a fair portion of his youth in the gutter fighting for survival, he recognised that glint in her eyes. There was something not quite tame that warned you not to look too closely. It suggested she didn’t give a damn about you, about anything, but Silas knew that was a lie too. She cared. She cared too damn much.

The knowledge made something fierce and protective spark to life in his heart. Silas wanted to save her, from what he didn’t know, perhaps from herself, but he knew better than to ask or to offer. He’d have thrown any such gesture in the face of whoever gave it when he’d been making his way back to where he belonged. He’d done it himself, on his own terms. It was the only way he would allow it.

Lucia was the same. Pride and defiance. It shone from her like a fire blazing out of control and he wanted nothing more than to feel the heat of it.

***

Lucia smiled as Bonnie hurried up to them, looking like she might bounce on the spot. She was such a vivacious girl, all ample curves and laughter.

“Oh, my word, the two of you look simply glorious. Did you notice every man here turned to look as the pair of you walked in?”