Tempting Mr. Townsend (Dashing Widows 2)

She shook her head and spoke through agonizing embarrassment. Could this day get any more humiliating? "No, I'm glad you're here. Caro and I were about to come to blows."

"A dashed useful umpire, that's me," he said, but his touch was gentle when he kissed her cheek and drew her down to sit beside him.

"Would you like tea?" Helena asked, turning to the tray. "I can ask for some more."

Silas looked disgusted. "Tea, at this hour? You'll get me thrown out of my clubs."

"Brandy, then?"

His eyes met Caro's, and the silent communication between them pierced Fenella with longing. She and Anthony had shared a similar bond. Or at least started to.

Silas didn't mention the theatre again, but relaxed on the sofa, stretching out his long legs in their black trousers. "A small one. I haven't dined yet."

Fenella expected he and Caro had romantic plans for an intimate meal after the play, then a night of making love. She shifted subtly on the chair as she recalled Anthony's big, virile body pounding into her. Since leaving him, she hadn't only suffered emotionally. That night at the Rainbow and Angel had reminded her how much she'd missed the physical side of marriage.

"So are you going to tell me why you could cut the atmosphere with a knife when I came in?" Silas asked with deceptive laziness.

"What do you know about Anthony Townsend?" Helena asked.

"Helena, for pity's sake!" Fenella snapped.

Silas's disconcertingly intelligent hazel eyes settled on her. "Ah."

Fenella's cheeks burned again. Silas's ahs could speak volumes. "Brandon is great friends with his nephew."

"His brother's son? That was a horrible tragedy when William and his wife were lost at sea. The lad's lucky to have a steadfast fellow like Townsend to turn to."

"So you like him?" Caro asked.

"Yes, I do. Very much. Capable chap. More than capable. Brilliant. Came in to rescue the government from fiscal disaster last year. Word is there's a peerage in the offing from a grateful nation."

Caro sent Fenella a significant look before she returned to quizzing Silas. "But what about his character? Would you trust him?"

Sil

as's expressive brows rose. "What's all this sudden interest in Anthony Townsend? Are you planning to throw me over for a richer prize, my love?"

"He probably doesn't tease," Caro retorted.

"Yes, he does," Fenella said, then wanted to kick herself.

Silas studied her like one of the botanical specimens in his greenhouse. "He's a fine man. I can't think of a better. Even if his manners aren't the most polished."

This time, Fenella restrained her response.

After a thoughtful pause, Silas said softly, "But I doubt whether my liking has any bearing on the matter. The question is whether Fenella likes him."

"If you were any sharper, Silas Nash, you'd cut yourself," she muttered.

He laughed and picked up her hand to place a casual kiss on her knuckles. "There I have my answer."

"Silas, I had an interesting chat about you the other day," Helena said, offering Fenella a reprieve. Now that attention focused on someone else, Fenella dragged in a relieved breath.

"Oh?" Silas said, accepting a crystal glass from his sister and raising it to his lips. "What the devil mischief have I been up to now?"

Helena didn't smile, but ranged herself in front of the fire with a curiously belligerent stance. "The pertinent issue is what you haven't been up to—or what you won't get up to, rather."

"I'm all ears," he said idly. Caro shifted to stand behind the sofa and rest her hand on his shoulder. Fenella had long noticed that the two lovers could hardly bear to be in the same room without touching. They'd come together at the end of last season, so few people knew about their affair. But she couldn't imagine the secret surviving once the annual round of balls and parties began in the spring. "Who's been spreading wicked tales?"