“Silas is back.”
It felt as though the room around Arabella faded into a blur, the music stopping, the buzz of the women dissipating into the wind. There was nothing but her and Simone then, and the name that hung between them.
“Silas Windham?” she managed to choke out.
Simone nodded. “The very one.”
Simone was watching her closely now. But of course she would. Silas and that night at the Vauxhall Gardens had brought Arabella to her and to this life. She’d never made her desire for him a secret over the years because she had decided never to make what she wanted a secret ever again. She pursued her passions, whether it be men, the occasional woman, orgasms or the finest silk for a gown.
“Back from America,” Arabella mused.
“Yes, I saw him at the Donville Masquerade two nights ago.”
“Oh,” Arabella said slowly. “Does that mean he’s yours?”
“Mine?” Simone cackled. “My dear, he was never mine. That moment in the garden altered your life, I know, but it was, as I’ve told you many times over the years, nothing but a bit of fun for me. Silas has neverbelongedto anyone, I don’t think.”
There was far too much pleasure in the idea that the man was fair game. Arabella had to fight for breath as she murmured, “Hmmmm.”
“So he’s yours to claim if you’d like him.”
She tossed a lock of hair off her shoulder with a shrug that was far more nonchalant than she actually felt. “We shall see. Who even knows what kind of man he’d be after his long disappearance? What brought him back anyway?”
A little shadow crossed Simone’s expression, but then she shrugged. “I have my theories, but he didn’t say. Silas has always blown by his own wind. Rather like someone else I know.”
“Sounds like it could be explosive,” Arabella said.
“I fear it might be. But I may see him at Vivien’s party tomorrow. Are you going?”
“No. My aunt is having us over for our monthly supper at her home.”
“Oh, sweetest Caroline. Give her my regards,” Simone said.
Arabella laughed, for her proper aunt had only encountered Simone once, but any mention of the courtesan always made her blush.
“And should I make an overture to Silas on your behalf?” Simone continued. “Set the groundwork for you?”
A shiver worked through Arabella at that thought and yet she still shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “I suppose.”
“Then I shall. And now I must go. Harding is expecting me soon and one mustn’t disappoint.”
“Goodbye, dearest,” Arabella said, kissing her cheek. Her sisters floated toward Simone, as well, saying their goodbyes, too.
But as Arabella stood there, still watching the room but no longer seeing it, she couldn’t deny the thrill that worked through her body and soul. The man she had dreamed of, obsessed over, fantasized about as back. And she was going to make him hers.
There was already no doubt about it.
CHAPTER2
The house of the Marquess of Pentaghast was just the same as Silas remembered it from growing up here. It was cold, for one, sophisticated without ever allowing tenderness inside. His memories here were mostly unpleasant. There was the loneliness, the isolation, the fear, the pain and the absolute knowledge that as the marquess’s illegitimate son, he didn’t belong. He almost felt like that child again as he stood in the front parlor, nursing a whisky he’d poured for himself while he waited. It didn’t take the edge off nearly enough.
“Mr. Windham?”
Silas turned toward the butler watching him from the door. The same one who had served his father, it seemed. Hateful creature who had always treated him as what he was…or perhaps what he wasn’t. “What is it, Russell?”
“Lord Pentaghast will see you,” Russell said, and then shifted with what seemed to be discomfort. “However, he is abed, sir, and you will have to meet with him in his chamber.”
Silas blinked at that revelation. His brother had never been so informal. “Is it…is it that bad?”
