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lay one hand on his sister’s slender shoulder. “I wish I’d shot that bastard Crewe.”
    “If anyone should have shot him, it was me. But let’s not spoil our morning with talk of that brute.”
    His sister never spoke of the hell of her marriage. Silas suspected revisiting those dark years gave her late, unlamented spouse power over her present. The problem was that the poison continued to taint her view of the world. He compared the wild hoyden she’d been as a girl with this contained, sardonic woman, and his heart cramped with grief for her. “You could have sent me a note last night.”
    She surveyed him thoughtfully over her coffee. “I hadn’t decided to interfere then. I’m still not sure I should.”
    It was his turn to look at his sister with disfavor. “Why in Hades not? She’ll make me a fine wife.”
    “Undoubtedly. I’m sure she made Freddie Beaumont a fine wife, too. Not one to shirk her duty, our Caro. I think that’s one of the reasons she doesn’t want to sign up for more of the same.”
    Pique stirred. “I would hope marriage to me would involve more than duty.”
    “It would involve a commitment, when she’s only now tasting her first freedom.”
    “I have no intention of crushing her spirit.”
    “Maybe not. But she’d be a wife, when I know she’s looking forward to an eventful widowhood.”
    “With that ruffian West,” he said grumpily.
    “And who knows who else?”
    “Bloody hell,” Silas said, setting his cup down in its saucer with a sharp clink. “It’s enough to make a man want to shoot himself.”
    Helena laughed briefly. “Not when I’ve taken this trouble to alert you to your lady love’s latest escapade. Why don’t you get dressed and we’ll see what’s happening in the park?”
    “Capital idea.” Silas strode toward the door. “And, Helena, thank you.”
    * * *
    Caroline drew her roan mare to a halt beneath the oak tree where she’d arranged to meet Helena and Lord West. She hadn’t been up this early since she’d put aside her mourning, but she’d stayed home last night after West had suggested she join him on his morning ride. Despite Silas’s warnings, she found herself increasingly pleased with her choice of lover. So far, thank heaven, West showed every sign of reciprocating her interest.
    When she heard hoof beats, she turned to watch West cantering toward her on a magnificent bay. He was tall and lean and sat his horse like a king. Admiration filled her. He truly was a sight to behold, especially for a woman starting to sample the banquet life offered a presentable widow with an impressive fortune. She had an invigorating sense that her new life stretched before her along a broad, bright path.
    As he approached, he swept his hat from his ruffled ebony curls and bowed. “My Lady Beaumont, good morning.”
    She smiled, wondering why her heart didn’t dip the way it had when she’d seen Silas at her ball—before he began acting like an ass. “Good morning, my lord. It looks like fine weather.”
    “It does indeed.”
    Platitudes. But then she and West weren’t far from strangers. Of course, she’d heard the gossip about his sins. As she’d told Silas, his reputation was no deterrent. She wanted a proficient lover to show her what she’d missed in Freddie’s infrequent embrace. She didn’t want or expect deep affection.
    And she needed to stop thinking about Silas.
    Which proved difficult when she turned to speak to her groom and she saw Helena, invited, and Silas, uninvited, as least by her, trotting in her direction. Early morning sun through the fresh green foliage lit them like characters in a play. Silas was laughing at something Helena said, his face creased in swift amusement.
    That silly little tremor in her heart was back. How very odd.
    West’s classically handsome face showed no whit of disappointment at Silas’s presence. But then of course, a brother and sister riding together was nothing notable, and Caroline’s