The Seduction of Lord Stone Read Online Free PDF Page B

that’s a disqualification in a husband, but it’s not really a problem in a lover.”
    The devil, what else could he say against his dear, much admired friend? “And he picks his teeth. It’s worse than Pascal’s knuckle cracking.”
    Caro cast him a doubtful glance. “Are you sure? People do nothing but sing his praises, and nobody’s mentioned any unfortunate personal habits.”
    Silas shrugged and strove to look reliable. “I’m only telling you what I know. You were the one who asked me to snitch on my friends. You ought to be grateful that I’m breaking the gentlemen’s code for your sake.”
    “You’re right. I’m sorry.” A ruminative expression entered her eyes. “From what you’ve said, West sounds the best of the lot.”
    Bloody hell. All that lying and Silas was no further advanced than he’d been last night. “He’s not right for you.”
    “I don’t see why not. Unless you’re going to accuse him of snoring or picking his teeth or crunching his knuckles. I know he washes and his mother is a charming lady. She came to one of Helena’s teas.” Before he could gather his arguments, she sent him a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Silas. You’ve been most helpful.”
    Helpful? Someone should hit him with a hammer before he was so helpful again. As if to underline the stinking morass Silas waded into, West glanced up from the stalls and smiled at Caroline, damn his sneaky, covetous, lecherous, thieving eyes.
    And Silas’s beloved smiled back with a cordiality that made him want to snarl like an angry mastiff.
    * * *
    A soft tap on Silas’s bedroom door interrupted disturbed dreams where he chased endlessly after Caro and she chased endlessly after some faceless man. Round and round, and nobody laying a hand on their quarry. Feeling exhausted with all that running, he cracked open one eye. The room was dark. He groaned and rolled over to bury his face in the pillow. Whoever the hell it was would go away.
    Except there was another knock and the faint squeak of an opening door, before a tentative voice asked, “My lord?”
    “If you don’t get out in the next five seconds, Dobbs, you’ll be seeking alternative employment,” Silas mumbled without raising his head.
    “I’m sorry to hear that, sir,” his valet said calmly.
    “Five, four, three—”
    “Your sister is downstairs and requests your presence.”
    That was surprising enough for Silas to roll over and stare blearily through the gloom at the cadaverous-looking fellow holding a candle. “It’s the middle of the night.”
    Dobbs’s expression didn’t change. It never did. “Not quite, sir. Close on six o’clock.”
    “What the devil is my sister doing here?” He felt thickheaded. It wasn’t altogether lack of sleep. Last night when the prospect of Caro tumbling into West’s arms had become unendurable, he’d sought refuge in the brandy bottle. The pincers behind his eyes reminded him why he so rarely indulged.
    “Lady Crewe is dressed for riding.”
    Which saved him having to ask which sister. He had three, although Helena was his favorite. Or she had been before she started barging in on a chap when any sensible person would still be in bed.
    Dobbs placed the candle on a chest of drawers and crossed to open the curtains. The pale morning light made Silas wince.
    “Shall I help you dress before you go downstairs, my lord?” Dobbs lifted Silas’s velvet dressing gown from the chair where he’d flung it last night.
    Silas forced himself to sit up. Each movement felt like pushing a boulder up a steep hill. “No, the dressing gown will suffice. There might be an emergency.”
    “Lady Crewe didn’t appear agitated.”
    That didn’t mean much. Helena could keep her head up through a hurricane. God knew, she’d needed all her pride and courage when she’d lived with Crewe.
    Silas grunted acknowledgment as he let Dobbs slide the heavy crimson robe over his bare shoulders. “I’m awake now, Dobbs. You can go back to