Page 26 of Never Beguile a Duke

SILAS MORTON, DUKE OF BEAUFORT

No! She couldn’t marry Mr. Hollingsworth, not when I haven’t had the chance to determine my own feelings regarding her.

Freezing outside the chamber when Miss Fernsby-Webb spoke his name, Silas pressed his ear against the crack between the doorframe and the door, struggling to hear their discussion over his hammering heart. He didn’t notice Juliette until she flew past him in a blur of color.

“You can’t!” Her tiny voice echoed through the upstairs.

“Who is this child?” Mrs. Webb said, displaying obvious displeasure at Juliette’s presence.

“My daughter,” Silas replied as he rounded the corner. “And she’s free to express her opinion on any subject.”

Paling, Mrs. Webb shrank against her pillow. “Your Grace, please accept my apologies. I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

“Nor should you,” he said, moving behind Juliette and placing his hands upon her slight shoulders. “A woman of your stature wouldn’t be privy to the intimate details of a duke’s life.”

Mrs. Webb nodded but held her tongue, her gaze sliding to her adult children, who shared a similar expression of confusion as they gaped at Juliette and Silas.

Recovering first, Miss Fernsby-Webb stood and curtsied. “Your Grace, I’m curious to know why my future happiness is of interest to your daughter.”

“Ask her.” He eased Juliette forward one step. “She voiced the concern.”

What possible reason could Juliette possess for opposing Miss Fernsby-Webb’s engagement?

Miss Fernsby-Webb knelt, bringing herself eye level with Juliette. “Why do you wish me to refuse an offer of marriage?”

Swallowing, Juliette blurted out, “If you marry someone else, you won’t have the opportunity to become my new mother.”

Silas choked. His fingers curling into Juliette’s shoulders, he pulled her backward as though the action would somehow reverse her words from being spoken.

“I’m flattered by your fondness, Miss Juliette. However,”—Miss Fernsby-Webb’s brown eyes flicked up, catching Silas’ gaze—“your father should select his future wife, and I’ve heard that he does not intend to complete that task this season.”

He struggled to keep a scowl from materializing on his face.

Roxburghe previously confessed that Miss Webb and her sister were aware of the marriage wager between the dukes… However, where before Silas had found that revelation amusing, he now found it troubling because even if he was considering Miss Fernsby-Webb—which he wasn’t, especially not at night when he was alone in his bedchamber—she’d already discounted him.

“Father should reconsider,” Juliette said, interrupting his thoughts.

Before he replied, Mrs. Webb moaned, leaned over the side of the bed, and vomited blood. Miss Fernsby-Webb twisted around with a gasp, then leaped from the floor and dove onto the bed, gathering her mother in a tight embrace.

“Fetch Mrs. Aylett,” Silas said, spinning Juliette around to face him. “Explain what occurred and ask her to bring fresh linens and towels. You’ll find her in the kitchen. Do you remember where that is?”

“Yes, Father.” Juliette took two steps and paused as though she wished to turn and speak, then darted through the doorway without uttering another sound.

Low murmurs on the staircase drew his attention. He jerked forward and closed the door, cutting off the sound.

“Thank you.” Miss Fernsby-Webb’s soft voice crawled over his shoulders.

He spun to find her directly behind him, a blood-stained cloth clutched in her hand.

“It’s no trouble,” he replied, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a half-smile. “I came to report that Mr. Curtis was not invited to my house, he did not accompany any lady, and neither myself nor my guests recognize the name.”

“We didn’t either,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said, gesturing to her sister.

“He’s a painter,” Mrs. Webb’s broken voice whispered. “He claimed he created portraits.”

Silas moved around Miss Fernsby-Webb, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “My family and friends have employed many artists over the years, yet that name is still not known. Why did you allow him inside your house?”

With a groan, Mrs. Webb rolled her head toward Silas.