Page 22 of A Duke Makes a Deal
“Shehasbeen wronged,” Silas interrupted.
“—and since she seems to lack the insight to determine between friend and foe, I have no doubt that Miss Woodvine will end up shackled to some spendthrift before the season ends.”
Gavin shrugged his shoulders as if expressing that it made little difference to him while Silas seethed at his words. She didn’t lack insight. She had merely trusted the wrong people at the wrong time. Anyone who had been thrust into a new world might have made the same mistake. Hell,hehad made that mistake and he had far more experience than Clara.
It shouldn’t matter to him if one poor man or another bothered her, but it did make him feel uncomfortably protective. Perhaps he should do something, to stave off the penniless peers who would undoubtedly harass her over the coming weeks. Besides, she was technically already spoken for.
“What did you say?” Derek said, his brow raising.
Silas’s gaze lifted at the question, unaware that he had mumbled his last thought out loud. When he realized what he had said, he coughed.
“Nothing,” he insisted, shaking his head, but Gavin was staring at him with a curious glint in his eye. He squinted at his friend.
“You think she belongs to you, don’t you?” Gavin said slowly, more like a statement than a question. “Because of the bet.”
Silas felt his skin grow warm at the accusation.
“That’s absurd. I do not.”
“But you do,” he said, leaning forward. “You think because you won her—”
“I didn’t win her—”
“—that you have some sort of claim to her.”
“Surely not, Combe,” Derek said, appearing alarmed. “The girl is not suitable. She was made for the country life and nothing more. Her mother was a maid, for heaven’s sake. You wouldn’t suit.”
“You sound like a pretentious ass,” Silas said.
“I’m merely pointing out that it would be illogical. Whether you appreciate it or not, you have to see that she isn’t suitable.”
“Why? Because the ladies of our social standings are such prizes?”
Derek’s eyes went wide at his words.
“At the risk of sounding arrogant, yes.”
“Really?” Silas asked, letting his temper finally flare. “And I suppose a well-bred lady, one born into privilege andstature would benefit me. The daughter of an earl perhaps, who had been coached and practiced in polite society her entire life. Someone whose performance at the pianoforte was once described as perfection? Who spoke French and German without a hint of an accent? Who was deemed the jewel of the season during her coming out? Perhaps someone like that would suit me better?” he said, describing in detail his previous wife.
Both Derek and Gavin shared an uneasy glance with one another, aware of who Silas was talking about. They obviously did not expect that reaction—and neither did Silas, who hadn’t even planned on offering for anyone until that very moment.
What was wrong with him? He didn’t care one ounce about Clara Woodvine and he had sworn to never marry again. Yes, there was some small, spiteful part of him that wondered about courting her, if only because she was the exact opposite of Cynthia, but he was hardly going to pursue such insanity.
“No, perhaps not that sort,” Derek said slowly, his eyes cautiously on Silas. “But you have to know that you don’t actually have a legitimate claim to the Woodvine girl, Silas. The bet does not hold up.”
“Doesn’t he?” Gavin chimed in, standing up all of a sudden. “Dilworth did ask to use her as collateral and no objections were made.”
“Iobjected,” Silas said.
Gavin shook his head.
“But you relented.”
“She wasn’t Dilworth’s to bet,” Derek argued. “He had no legitimate claim to her.”
“Except that he did,” Gavin tried. “He was set to announce their engagement that very night, wasn’t he? It was the entire reason he had been invited by your brother.” Gavin turned to Silas. “If he won, how much would you have owed him?”
“Several thousand pounds,” Silas answered.
