Page 52 of Never Beguile a Duke

“Thank you,” Miss Venning said, a blush crawling across her cheeks. “My skills are merely an extension of my teacher’s abilities.”

Doctor Barnes tucked the gloves into his bag and, fastening the top, shifted his attention to Winifred. “Has His Grace returned from town? I wish to request a chamber near Mrs. Webb’s so I may continue to observe her recovery.”

“Father hasn’t returned.” Miss Juliette popped out from behind Winifred, her fingers wound together into a tight knot. “Since I am acting in his stead, I will have Mrs. Aylett make the arrangements. Would you wait here a moment?”

She disappeared without waiting for a response and returned less than five minutes later with a red-faced Mrs. Aylett, who paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame as she drew in a labored breath.

“Doctor. Barnes,” she huffed, mopping her face with the edge of her apron. “We have quite a full house this week. However, we do have one spare chamber available. If you would follow me, you can rest before dinner.”

Winifred placed a hand on Miss Juliette’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “We cannot attend a meal in these wet clothes. Do you need assistance dressing for tonight?”

“I only have this frock.” Lip trembling, Miss Juliette lowered her gaze and tugged at the saturated material. “Father promised to send a modiste. Perhaps he forgot?”

“He will remember,” Winifred replied, glancing around the room for support.

Nora rose and, offering the kindest smile, glided over. “Is your father not in town at this very moment?”

Nodding, Miss Juliette dug her toe into the carpet. “What am I to do about dinner?”

“We have time.” Winifred hooked her finger under Miss Juliette’s chin and lifted the little girl’s head. “We can dry your dress by the fireplace. I’ll weave ribbons into your hair while we wait.”

Eyes sparkling, Miss Juliette clapped her hands together. “Can we use the ribbons I received from Misses Braddock and Wilmington?”

“Certainly,” Winifred replied, leading Miss Juliette into the hallway. “What colors did you select?”

“Blue and green.” Sighing, Miss Juliette opened the door to her chamber. “Mother loved those colors. She said they reminded her of the ocean.”

Winifred seized her opportunity. “Were there any colors she disliked?”

“Black.”

The word sent a shiver rolling down Winifred’s spine.

“It’s not my favorite color either,” she replied, directing Miss Juliette to stand near the fireplace. “I don’t even like people by that name.”

A tiny squeak fell from Miss Juliette’s lips. She spun around, pulling the dress’ fastenings from Winifred’s grip, and took a large step backward, the heel of her shoe knocking against a gilded fireplace screen.

“Do you know any?” she whispered.

“I do not,” Winifred replied, her tone firm.

As she pulled the shabby dress over Miss Juliette’s head, the young girl said, “I met a man by that name… He murdered my mother.”

Winifred froze, the saturated garment dangling from her hand. “Have you told your father?”

Miss Juliette shook her head so hard that her face blurred. “The Hills didn’t believe me when I told them Mr. Black attacked Mother; they punished me for telling falsehoods. I fear Father will react in kind.”

“I’ve only spent a little time in your father’s company,” Winifred replied, turning away as tears formed in her eyes. “However, I know he would never dismiss a complaint as serious as what you’ve just admitted.”

A silver-handled hairbrush floated into Winifred’s vision. “I dream about him.”

“Your father?” Winifred accepted the brush and dragged the bristles through Miss Juliette’s damp, long hair.

“Mr. Black,” she replied with a shudder. “Although I didn’t last night.”

“What do you dream?” Winifred set down the brush as she struggled to keep her worry from bleeding into the question.

“That he returns to choke the life from me for not keeping his secret.” Miss Juliette stood stock-still, her gaze locked on the bed. “As I lay dying, my mother and sister appear to bring me to heaven with them.”