Page 31 of Never Beguile a Duke

“Miss Juliette claimed she knew how to play Brag.” Nora tilted her head toward the young girl.

After collecting her cards, Miss Venning stood as well. “Since she provided invaluable assistance in relieving the pressure around your mother’s eye, we asked her what other talents she possessed.”

“Gambling?” Winifred’s mouth crooked. “That skill seems a bit inappropriate… However, I suppose her father would approve of the activity.”

“He would not,” a low growl crawled over her shoulders, followed by the unique blend of cinnamon and carnation, announcing the Duke of Beaufort’s formidable presence.

Shuddering, Winifred turned, a chill sliding down her spine, and curtsied, forcing a smile. “Your Grace, Miss Juliette has been located.”

“I see.” The Duke of Beaufort’s narrowed eyes swept over the room. “Juliette, go to your bedchamber. Immediately.”

“Yes, Father.” Miss Juliette set down her cards, rose, and—head down—shuffled to the doorway.

As she passed the Duke of Beaufort, he folded his arms and glowered at her. “We will discuss your behavior this evening in a few minutes.”

“Your Grace,” Nora said, moving beside Winifred, “please don’t react too harshly?—”

The Duke of Beaufort raised his eyebrows at Nora’s request as though pointing out the absurdity of commanding a duke to do anything, and the remainder of her sentence died on her tongue.

His gaze flicked to the bed, sliding over Mrs. Webb’s bandaged face, then he offered Miss Venning a curt nod, spun on his heel, and strode from the room.

Nora’s face paled, her attention shifting between Miss Venning and Winifred. “Do you think we’ve angered him?”

“I don’t believe either of you was the cause,” Winifred said, glancing at the empty doorway.

“Were you?” The corner of Nora’s mouth pulled into a grimace.

“Possibly,” Winifred replied, widening her eyes in an attempt to stave off Nora’s current line of questioning. “However, he may have interacted with others prior to his appearance. One of those conversations could have spoiled his mood.”

Miss Venning gathered the cards into a stack. “I cannot recall one instance where His Grace’s temperament was under discussion.”

“Perhaps,”—Winifred closed the chamber door—“the addition of a daughter altered his untroubled attitude.”

Or he was irritated that the woman he’d just kissed called him a coward with her next breath.

Yawning, Miss Venning stretched her arms, then placed the card deck on her chair. “As nothing more can be done to assist your mother this evening, I’m going to retire to my chamber. I don’t anticipate any complications. However, promise you’ll wake me if her situation worsens.”

After both ladies agreed, Miss Venning took her leave, opening and closing the door with a soft click.

Nora waited for a count of ten. “What exactly did you say to the Duke of Beaufort?”

Winifred winced. “Merely that Mr. Hollingsworth was in prison for a crime he didn’t commit and that, unlike the Duke of Beaufort, he wasn’t allowing that difficulty to prevent him from pursuing the life he desired.”

Eyes narrowing, Nora closed the distance between them. “Why were you speaking about Mr. Hollingsworth?”

“The Duke of Beaufort,”—kissed me, then—“encouraged me to accept Mr. Hollingsworth’s proposal.”

“I don’t understand why you would discuss another man’s offer of marriage with the Duke of Beaufort.” Nora frowned. “I thought you intended to help him locate his daughter.”

“I did!” Winifred flung her hands up. “He brought up the subject of suitable matches.”

Nora tapped a finger to her lips, a strange light glowing in her eyes, then she shrugged and gestured toward the empty bed. “I’m certain a night of rest will add the distance needed for him to forgive the unintended slight.”

Winifred didn’t agree.

“I’m blind!” Her mother screamed, ripping Winifred from deep slumber.

Rolling over, Winifred fell out of the bed, hit the floor with a grunt, and popped up, her head colliding with Nora’s.