Page 4 of To Break the Rules

The mystified look in Silas’ eyes satisfied Fred.

“What the devil do you mean by that?” Silas demanded.

“I mean, my lord, that you don’t have the faintest idea of what your position entails, seeing as how you and your father have been estranged these past fifteen years, and I’m too old and set in my ways to go and work for someone else. I’m as much a part of your inheritance as Cavendish House, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you throw away all my years of loyalty.”

“You make it sound as if I was tossing you in the gutter,” Silas retorted, a thread of anger in his voice. “As far as I remember, I offered you a very generous retirement in light of your loyal service to my father.”

“That you did, my lord,” Fred admitted, his voice softening a little as he remembered the staggering amount settled upon him. He’d not expected anything like the sum the new viscount had offered him. “But the fact is, my work is my life. I never married and I’ve got no kin. What would I do?”

There was a note of pleading in Fred’s demand that he hadn’t meant to allow, but Silas heard it the same as Fred did.

A frown of consternation gathered at Silas’ brow. “I understand,” he said, his voice gruff with unease. Another trait of the Cavendish men was that they’d rather die than speak of anything that smacked of sentiment or emotion. “It’s true that I… I owe you a debt, Davis,” Silas said, sounding increasingly awkward.

It was Fred’s turn to frown now. “Whatever for?”

Silas’ mouth quirked and he huffed out a laugh. “For a thousand little kindnesses when I was a boy. For not letting me starve when the fellow banished me to my room, for taking the time to notice a snot-nosed boy when you might have ignored me, and certainly for taking the blame when that bloody vase got broken. By God, man, the fellow might have dismissed you for that.”

Blushing for the first time he could ever remember, Fred stuttered and shook his head. “I never meant that you owed me aught. That’s not why I’m here.”

Fred watched, bemused as Silas grinned, showing even, white teeth in a face that was uncompromising and hard. “I know it, and for that alone I suppose I’d best let you have your way, though I warn you now: I’ll not put up with primping and fuss. I’m not a doll to be dressed up and paraded about.”

“I gathered that much,” Fred said, chuckling and shaking his head with dismay.

Silas gave a snort. “Oh, to the devil with it. Come along, then. It looks like you’ve got yourself a job.”

Fred gave a deep and heartfelt sigh of relief. “Thank you, my lord,” he said, meaning it. “I promise I’ll not give you cause to regret it.”

“Hmmm,” Silas replied, though there was laughter in his eyes. “We’ll see.”

Fred fell into step with his new master, unable to stop his gaze from falling to the shocking state of the man’s Hessians.

“There is one condition of my employment,” he said, unable to restrain himself despite his good fortune. “For the love of everything holy, let me polish your boots.”

“Bloody hell, I thought you said I wouldn’t regret it?” Silas shook his head and sent him an accusing look.

“What possible harm could polishing your boots do?” Fred demanded.

“A great deal,” Silas said, perfectly serious. “People might think I give a damn.”

Chapter 2

Thank heavens for Lucia, her company has eased the transition from leaving my brother’s house and stopped me feeling too sorry for myself. She is a strange young woman, so very lovely and sweet natured, yet I cannot help but feel she is adrift somehow. I have never met someone so self-contained and so full of secrets. I wish she would confide in me. I would dearly like to be her friend.

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Matilda Hunt to Prunella Adolphus, Duchess of Bedwin.

1st July 1814. The evening of Lady Grasmere’s ball, Mayfair, London.

Silas stifled a groan as he stared around the crowded ballroom. At least he’d sent Fred off to fetch his belongings, so he’d avoided being primped to death before he came out.

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” he grumbled, sending an impatient look towards his companion.

Jasper Cadogan, the Earl of St Clair, returned a dazzling smile.

“Because I can charm the birds from the trees, or so I’m told,” St Clair replied, his handsome face showing a hint of mockery. “Winkling you out of your blasted library didn’t pose too much of a challenge. Besides, there’s someone here I want you to meet.”

Silas did groan this time. “Damn it, Jasper, will you stop with this ridiculous urge to get me leg shackled?”

“Who said anything about marriage?” The earl looked so offended that Silas couldn’t help but laugh. “But I’ve never met a man more in need of a bit of female company. I don’t understand why you insist on living like a blasted monk.”