Page 65 of To Break the Rules

“Jackanape,” she said.

“Harridan,” Silas retorted.

The two of them stared at each other until Dharani gave a bark of laughter.

“You’ll do,” she said, shaking her head. “Now get me somewhere to sit down, and mind it’s nowhere draughty. My old bones don’t hold the heat like they used to.”

Once Dharani was installed and further buttered up with a gift of a heavy silk shawl to keep the chill off—on a scorching day that was already making Silas fear his collars would wilt—he went to greet St Clair.

“Thanks for doing this,” he said, shaking the earl’s hand.

“Pleasure,” St Clair said with the kind of lazy smile that sent any unwed woman in a twenty-yard radius into a swoon. “I do love to be in on a scandal before it breaks.”

Silas let out a breath and gave him a hard look, but St Clair beat him to it, holding up one hand.

“If anyone so much as breathes a word against the future Lady Cavendish, you may rest assured I shall break their nose,” St Clair assured them. “Though I suppose I must think of an alternative punishment for the ladies,” he added with a frown.

“Good man,” Silas replied gruffly. For all St Clair’s charm and devil may care attitude, there was a sincere and good-hearted fellow beneath the veneer.

“Now then, where is the beautiful bride? Doesn’t the best man get a kiss on the wedding day?”

“Not if he wants to make it out the house with his own nose intact, no,” Silas replied, only half joking as his butler moved to inform him that his wife to be had just arrived.

“Right then, away with you, scoundrel,” St Clair said, taking charge and giving Silas a little push. “Go and take your place. Oh, who’s giving her away, though?”

Silas froze, a sudden panicky feeling rising in his chest.

St Clair rolled his eyes. “Oh, good heavens, man. Must I think of everything?”

“I only proposed yesterday afternoon,” Silas said, a touch indignant, yet relieved he’d had the forethought to arrange the licence days earlier. “It’s been a bit of a rush. Oh… wait….” He grinned and hurried down the stairs to where Fred was getting under Mrs Winston’s feet.

“Fred!” he called, as the fellow turned around in surprise. “Stop harassing my housekeeper, she has a wedding breakfast to organise, and I have a job for you.”

Fred looked a little surprised but followed Silas back up the stairs.

“St Clair,” Silas said, drawing Fred nearer. “My valet, Mr Frederick Davis.”

The earl looked between Silas and his valet, a little surprised but he nodded. “Mr Davis.”

“My Lord St Clair,” Fred said, utterly perplexed.

“Jasper,” Silas said, wondering if he was about to insult one of his few friends.

“Oh, Lord,” St Clair said, appalled. “Jasper, is it? I am in the basket.”

Silas laughed. “No, but I shall be if there’s no one to give my wife away. Please, would you do the honours for me? I’d be eternally grateful.”

“Of course,” the earl said, brightening at once, until he asked. “But who’ll be best man?”

Silas cleared his throat and turned to Fred who blinked up at him. “Did you want me to run and fetch someone?” his valet asked, still looking mystified about what was going on.

“No, you daft beggar,” Silas said, shaking his head. “I’d like you to be best man, if you don’t mind?”

Fred gaped at him, his colour rising dramatically before his face turned a stark white.

“B-But I c-couldn’t, my lord,” he stammered. “You’re a viscount and I… I—”

“You’ve been a good friend, Fred,” Silas said, his voice low. “And this wedding will cause scandal enough whether or not my valet stands as best man, and I for one don’t give a tinker’s cuss. Are you in?”