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“And I haven’t the time to go visiting,” Miss Wilds countered, smiling. “I’m always so busy reading. How curious!” Miss Weaver and Miss Wilds both laughed.
Silas raised an eyebrow. He was impressed. It could have been a social faux-pas, which she’d turned into a clever joke.
“Very impressive, Miss Wilds,” he whispered.
“I have often repelled many by my abrasive manner,” she replied sadly. “I’ve learned how to soften it a little.”
He turned his gaze towards his plate, for he knew he was staring. She was surprising. Usually, Silas was used to women and ladies dissembling—they were always happy, always smiling, always unfailingly polite. Miss Wilds was none of those things.
He liked her.
***
Dinner was a lavish affair, with six courses. Lucy was so full by the end of it that she was surprised they hadn’t all fallen asleep. It was the most delicious food she’d ever eaten. There was soup, and duck, and roast potatoes. For dessert, there was a lavish cake, topped with a chocolate ganache and with a raspberry syrup in its centre.
The whole room was filled with people—mostly members of the ton; however, there were also members of the nouveau riche. Lucy couldn’t help but feel that she and Aunt Joan were out of place. But it was clear that her aunt was having a good time.
Mr Silas Sweet talked to Lucy throughout, with Miss Sweet adding input from the other side of him. For the most part, Lucy enjoyed the discussion, though Mr Sweet seemed to find her amusing. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was laughing at her.
When the whole party left the dining room, heading for the parlour, Miss Sweet caught Lucy’s attention, sidling up to her.
“Miss Wilds,” she said. “Can I perhaps prevail upon you to join me at the pianoforte? I’ll need someone to turn the pages for me.”
Lucy grinned at her new friend. “I would be happy to, Miss Sweet.”
“Good. And you must call me Dinah.”
“Only if you call me Lucy.”
“Deal.”
The two young ladies walked over to the instrument made of cherrywood, which shone in the candlelight. While Dinah sat down on the bench, Lucy stood beside her, turning the pages.
Dinah was a soft soprano singer, and she played excellently. When Lucy turned to look at those gathered, everyone’s eyes were on Dinah. Except for Mr Silas Sweet.
Across the room, their eyes locked. Lucy felt a pleasant tingle across her skin. He raised his glass to her, and her face grew hot as she blushed furiously. She turned her attention quickly to her task at hand.
She could still feel the heat of his gaze on her. She felt a warm flash in the bottom of her belly. He was good-looking, certainly, and he’d seemed to take pleasure in their conversation. But was he doing this as a lark?
