Page 21 of Never Beguile a Duke

Except he wanted to.

A horrific scream whipped around the side of the house, smacking into Silas and dragging him from his fantasy. He and Miss Fernsby-Webb scrambled to their feet and raced toward the sound. As they rounded the residence’s second corner, another scream, louder than the first, rippled across the frozen grounds.

In the distance, a tiny black speck collapsed in the snow.

Juliette!

CHAPTER FIVE

WINIFRED

Winifred hastened after the Duke of Beaufort, using his footprints instead of creating her own path through the snow, but as they neared Miss Juliette, the young girl’s crouched form melted into two, revealing a second, larger dark mass half-buried in the ice.

“Are you injured?” The Duke of Beaufort grabbed Miss Juliette, yanking her to her feet and spinning her in a circle as he inspected her slush-stained clothing.

“N-No,” she replied through chattering teeth. “However, she is.”

Winifred peered around Miss Juliette, her gaze sliding over the woman’s battered face, and gasped. “Mother!”

Diving forward, Winifred landed on the frozen ground with a grunt, leaned forward, ignoring the freezing water seeping into her dress, and clawed through the snow surrounding her mother’s head.

The Duke of Beaufort dropped beside Winifred and, without direction, shoved his bare fingers into the slush, scraping away chunks until they freed Winifred’s mother from her icy cocoon. Before Winifred could make the request, the Duke of Beaufort thrust his arms beneath Mrs. Webb’s limp body and lifted, uncovering a slight indentation in the packed snow.

He grimaced as his gaze skated over the depression. “Your mother must have been unconscious for quite some time.”

“Do you think she walked the whole distance from her residence?” Winifred asked with a shiver.

“I doubt a hackney driver would leave her this far from the house.” The Duke of Beaufort turned and slogged across the frozen blanket coating the ground.

“If he discovered she had no money to compensate him…” Winifred’s chest tightened.

Had her mother been attacked by the coachman?

Glancing back at Winifred, the Duke of Beaufort locked his gaze on her, then firmly shook his head. “Knowing your mother’s destination was my residence, the driver would have requested payment from someone inside the house when he deposited her at the door. He loses time and money by harming her.”

The Duke of Beaufort’s green eyes flicked to the right. “Come along, Juliette.”

“Are you angry, Father?” Miss Juliette hurried forward, panting as she bounded through the thick snow.

“That you ran off, yes.” He shifted his attention to her when she reached his side. “That you discovered, Mrs. Webb, no.”

“Will she die?” Miss Juliette’s voice cracked.

“I’m going to do everything I can to prevent that,” the Duke of Beaufort replied, lifting his head and finding Winifred. “I swear.”

Winifred nodded, her throat closing and preventing her from verbally expressing her gratitude.

“Juliette,” the Duke of Beaufort said as he shifted his grip on Mrs. Webb, “run ahead, seek out Mr. Aylett, and inform him of what’s occurred.”

“Yes, Father.” Juliette curtsied, darted forward three steps, then paused and twisted around. “Where should he meet you?”

The Duke of Beaufort glanced at Winifred and lifted his eyebrows, asking the silent question.

“In my chamber,” Winifred replied, winding her arms around her waist and shivering. “Nora may request to transfer to another room. She hasn’t forgiven our mother for… interfering.”

A soft snort answered her.

“Have you?” the Duke of Beaufort asked, his face unreadable. “She sent you to prison.”