Page 36 of Never Beguile a Duke

The action did nothing to discourage Roxburghe’s curiosity, who gave up all pretense and shifted to Silas’ bench. “Not one person expects you to rescue an innocent man from prison.”

Silas opened his eyes, turned toward his friend, and growled, “Mrs. Webb needs a doctor.”

“A task I am quite capable of completing without your assistance.” Roxburghe’s mouth twitched. “Surely, you’d prefer to spend the morning entertaining your daughter instead of accompanying me on this drab journey.”

Sighing, Silas leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “Juliette is angry with me.”

Roxburghe snorted. “That didn’t take long. What did you do?”

“I forbade her from playing Brag.” Silas licked his lips, returning his gaze to Roxburghe. “It’s an unsuitable activity for a young girl.”

“When has propriety driven any of your decisions?” Roxburgh asked, shifting to the opposite bench.

“Since yesterday,” Silas said, unable to keep the irritation from his reply.

Roxburghe arched his eyebrows at Silas’ curt retort. “With whom did you find your daughter gambling?”

“Your fiancée.”

Laughter exploded from Roxburghe, the raucous sound bouncing around the coach’s small cabin.

Silas scowled.

“Tell me,” Roxburghe said, wiping the amusement from his eyes, “was Miss Webb alone in her corruption, or did she have assistance?”

“When you come to me with concerns regarding your own children, I shall remind you of this moment.” Silas crossed his arms over his chest and stared out the window, his eyes sliding over the snow-coated tree branches.

“And at that moment, I expect you to impart every piece of wisdom you possess.” Roxburghe nudged Silas’ boot. “We’ll stop at Doctor Barnes’ residence first. He won’t be pleased to be woken this early. However, I’m certain he could be convinced to reside with us for the remainder of the week.”

“Are you concerned for Mrs. Webb?” Silas’ eyes flicked back to Roxburghe.

“Despite her strained relationship with my fiancée, Mrs. Webb’s premature death would postpone my wedding.” Roxburghe’s hand curled. “I won’t have any delays.”

“This disease affecting you, Lennox, and Grisham has me concerned,” Silas said, nodding toward Roxburghe’s clenched fist. “All three of you have developed a shocking tendency toward violence in the past few months.”

A smirk danced across Roxburghe’s face. “We’ll speak on this subject again after Cupid strikes you.”

Silas flinched, and the minute movement caused Roxburghe’s smile to widen. “You have been infected by love.”

“It was one kiss!” Silas flung his arms upward, nearly hitting the ceiling. “I’ve kissed many women in my lifetime. Why does this particular one haunt me?”

“Which one?” Roxburghe leaned forward, his blue eyes swirling with curiosity.

He may as well admit the name. Roxburghe would pick at this subject until he dragged the truth from Silas’ reluctant lips.

“Miss Fernsby-Webb,” Silas said, grimacing as glee split Roxburghe’s face into a giant grin.

“How did the lady respond?” he asked, scooting forward on his bench.

“She claimed marriage was not a design of hers,” Silas replied, watching Roxburghe’s joy drain from his features.

Steepling his fingers, Roxburghe leaned back. “Marriage to you or to anyone?”

“I’m not certain.” Silas glanced out the window as the coach turned onto the main road leading into Wiltshire.

“And you thought rescuing Mr. Hollingsworth would answer that question?”

Silas didn’t reply.