Page 15 of Never Beguile a Duke (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #30)
SILAS MORTON, DUKE OF BEAUFORT
I t was too much to hope that Roxburghe wouldn’t question Silas’ motivations for abandoning his house in favor of an excursion into town.
The instant that the coach jolted into motion, Roxburghe slid forward on his bench, his intense gaze probing Silas.
“Does your presence,” he said, stroking his chin, “have anything to do with the affliction from which you suffer?”
“I’m merely seeing to my guests’ needs, as an exemplary host would do.” Silas closed his eyes and leaned his head against the coach wall.
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.
“What will you do if she accepts Mr. Hollingsworth’s proposal?”
The threat buzzed around Silas’ brain.
“Then the temptation disappears, and I keep my ten thousand pounds.” Silas shrugged. “As you suggested, my attention should be solely focused on Juliette.”
“You’re a fool,” Roxburghe replied, depressing the door handle as the coach slowed to a stop, and descended from the cabin.
Probably .
Roxburghe rang the bell hanging beneath a wooden sign carved with the words ‘Doctor Barnes’. Several minutes later, a man with hair as dark as shoe polish opened the door and peered out, squinting against the bright mid-morning sun.
“Good morrow, Your Grace!” He added a hasty bow, repeating the same greeting when he spied Silas. “Two dukes at my door… the matter must be of grave importance to elicit a visit from multiple men of title.”
“It is,” Roxburghe replied, gesturing toward the foyer. “May we discuss this in private?”
“Certainly, Your Grace.” Doctor Barnes indicated for Silas and Roxburghe to enter the house, then closed the door behind them. “We can speak in my office.”
They followed the physician across the small foyer to a closed door off to the left of the staircase.
“Am I to assume secrecy is necessary for this treatment?” Doctor Barnes asked as he opened the door.
“Scandal isn’t my concern,” Roxburghe replied, stepping into the office and claiming the seat nearest the door.
Beaufort took the chair beside Roxburghe and waited for the doctor to sit before saying, “The widow Webb arrived at my house yesterday afternoon, half-frozen, bloody, and nearly dead.”
Hand halfway to a quill, Doctor Barnes paused and lifted his eyes to Silas. “Why would her driver abandon her in such a state?”
“She was attacked in her home and then walked—or crawled, I’m uncertain of the details—toward my residence. Her daughters are currently my guests.”
If he was surprised by Silas’ revelation, Doctor Barnes’ face didn’t reflect the sentiment. Instead, he dipped his head and scribbled several words on a parchment.
“She survived the evening; that’s a blessing.” He glanced up. “Is she conscious?”
“As of this morning,” Silas replied, sliding forward on his chair. “However, her daughters prefer a physician to ensure there are no hidden injuries that may not have been treated.”
Doctor Barnes frowned. “Who treated the initial wounds?”
“Miss Arabella Venning,” Silas said, hoping he hadn’t caused future difficulties between her family and Doctor Barnes.
“Ah.” A faint smile lifted the corners of Doctor Barnes’ mouth. “A lovely woman, quite capable. Were she a man, she would’ve made an excellent physician.”
He rose and collected a worn leather bag from the table behind him. “Her father requires a lot of attention, and she spent several months training with me to learn how to care for him. I’m certain Mrs. Webb received superb treatment. However, at your request, I will examine her myself.”
“We appreciate your time,” Silas said, standing. “After you’ve completed your assessment of Mrs. Webb, please consider residing at my home for the remainder of this week with me and my guests. We are celebrating several engagements.”
“Including yours?” Doctor Barnes asked, opening the clasp at the top of the bag.
“I have not been fortunate enough to find my ideal match,” Silas replied, shooting a glower at Roxburghe when he snorted. “However, the Duke of Roxburghe is engaged to Mrs. Webb’s daughter?—”
“Stepdaughter.” Roxburghe pinned Silas with an intense glare.
Silas inclined his head, accepting the correction. “And he is most anxious to ensure his mother-in-law survives long enough for them to wed.”
“I understand the urgency,” Doctor Barnes said, adding the parchment with his notes to the bag and snapping the top closed. “Do you have other matters to attend to, or are you returning to your residence immediately?”
“We have one?—”
“Two,” Roxburghe interrupted. “Two additional locations to visit before we can return to the festivities.”
Doctor Barnes bowed. “Then, I shall leave you to your errands and speak with you later this evening.”
As they exited the office, Silas asked, “Aside from the prison, where else are we traveling today?”
“To Mrs. Webb’s residence,” Roxburghe replied, lowering his voice. “She has a reputation for telling falsehoods. Therefore, we should inspect the house to confirm the validity of her story.”
“Do you suspect she lied?” Silas opened the door and stepped into the chilly mid-morning sun.
“Those injuries appeared quite serious,” Roxburghe said, ambling toward his waiting coach. “Someone had to bestow them upon her.”
“Would you prefer to head there first?” Silas stopped beside the metal step and waited for Mr. Dunn, Roxburghe’s driver, to open the coach door.
“We shouldn’t leave Mr. Hollingsworth in prison while we conduct our investigation,” Roxburghe replied, nodding to Mr. Dunn. “He’s suffered enough.”
“Our destination is the prison?” Mr. Dunn asked, the driver’s flat voice concealing his thoughts regarding Roxburghe’s request.
“There’s an innocent man currently housed there,” Roxburghe replied, placing his foot on the metal step. “And we’re going to free him.”
As Mr. Dunn closed the door, his muttered statement slipped into the coach. “That seems a frequent occurrence.”
Roxburghe caught Silas’ eye and shrugged. “He’s not wrong. I assisted with the release of Miss Webb and her sister.”
“Did you face any difficulties while rescuing them?” Silas asked as the coach jerked forward.
“Miss Fernsby-Webb’s liberation was easier than her sister’s.” Roxburghe’s gaze slid to the window. “Her mother wrote a retraction of the accusation against her daughter, claiming she’d been mistaken in believing Miss Fernsby-Webb was involved in the theft.”
Pursing his lips, Roxburghe fell silent. An unsettling atmosphere settled in the coach.
Silas, eyes narrowing, kept his attention on Roxburghe. “What aren’t you sharing with me?”