Page 20 of Never Beguile a Duke

“Wouldn’t you prefer Miss Fernsby-Webb chose to spend time with you because she wanted to and not because my title encouraged her to do so?” Silas tilted his head.

He knew very little about Juliette but hoped she wouldn’t lean into the seductive charm of power that came from being a duke’s daughter.

After a moment, Juliette nodded, then raised her fist and rapped softly on the closed door.

Miss Fernsby-Webb answered, her face breaking into a grand smile—which Silas prayed was genuine—when she spied Juliette. “Do you need assistance dressing for the evening?”

Juliette shook her head, wound her fingers together, and in one breath released the garbled phrase, “Would you sit beside me tonight when we dine?”

“I would be delighted,” Miss Fernsby-Webb replied, extending her arm backward. “If my sister is allowed to join us as well.”

“Certainly!” Juliette beamed.

Before she threw herself at Miss Fernsby-Webb, Silas placed a restraining hand upon his daughter’s shoulders.

“Your Grace,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said, adding a quick curtsey as she lifted her head. “If you have obligations that need your attention, Miss Juliette can visit with us. We’ll bring her down for the banquet.”

Juliette sniffed and pulled free of Silas’ grip. “Why are you so kind to me? I have done nothing to earn it.”

“Everyone deserves kindness.” Kneeling, Miss Fernsby-Webb brought herself eye level with Juliette. “You have done nothing that would cause me to handle you otherwise.”

“You sound like my mother.” One giant tear rolled down Juliette’s face.

She turned, raced toward the staircase, zipping around Mr. Aylett, and ran down the steps. A moment later, the front door slammed.

“Dear Lord, she’s outside.” Silas dragged a hand down his face. “I’ll never find her.”

“I’ll assist you.” Miss Fernsby-Webb slid past him, brushing against his torso as she scooted into the corridor.

A bizarre tingling rippled through his body. Excuses to accidentally touch her again tumbled through his mind.

“I couldn’t ask?—”

“You didn’t,” she replied, wrapping her fingers around his arm. “I caused Miss Juliette’s distress.”

Silas glanced down at the contact. How was she not affected by the peculiar sensation?

“We shouldn’t tarry, Your Grace.” Miss Fernsby-Webb indicated the staircase with her free hand. “It’s nearly nightfall.”

Had the circumstances been different, he would have considered a sunset stroll across the grounds with Miss Fernsby-Webb a delightful distraction. However, as the temperatures plunged with the remaining rays of light, the urgency of finding Juliette overrode every other thought.

He yanked the front door, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled for Juliette. His panic echoed across the snowy landscape.

“Look.” Miss Fernsby-Webb pointed to a barely perceptible trail of tiny footprints leading toward the rear of the house. “That must be your daughter. She’s the only person in attendance small enough to leave such a shallow impression.”

Silas nodded his agreement, and they hurried, shoes crunching on the ice, along the side of the house. As they hastened around the corner, Miss Fernsby-Webb’s foot slipped. She lost her balance and fell, dragging Silas to the ground and landing on top of his chest.

“We seem to find ourselves in the snow quite frequently,” he quipped, picking bits of ice from her hair.

She laughed. “This time, I’m grateful there’s no sleigh trapping us.”

“I must disagree,” he said, enjoying the sensation of her soft body sprawled across his. “Without the sleigh, we have no privacy.”

“And for what purpose would we need privacy?” She placed her hands on his chest but made no effort to crawl off of him. “We are nothing more than friends.”

His fingers encircled her wrists, holding her in place. “You’ve never considered anything more from me?”

“I’m not given to false hope,” she replied, her sweet breath brushing over his lips. “You’ve a wager to win, Your Grace. There’s no need to continue this conversation.”