Page 21 of Never Beguile a Duke (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #30)
WINIFRED
B racing for pain, Winifred hooked her legs around Miss Juliette’s, tightened her grip, and rolled both their bodies off the runaway sled.
Winifred hit the icy ground with a grunt, her head striking the unforgiving surface.
Black spots dancing through her vision, she released her hold on Miss Juliette and slid uncontrollably toward a thorny bush.
Flinging out her arms, Winifred dragged her fingers through the snow in a herculean attempt to stop herself from crashing into the shrub.
It didn’t work.
Thorns grabbed at her clothing, scraping her skin through the layers of cloth as she sailed beneath the plant’s spiked boughs. One particularly cruel branch latched onto her chin and carved a shallow scratch from her jaw to her temple.
She came to a rest just beyond the bush as the sled slammed into the beech tree. A horrendous crack reverberated across the grounds. Drawing in a shaky breath, Winifred attempted to sit up but couldn’t gather the strength.
Miss Juliette’s upside-down face, creased with worry, appeared. “Did you break anything?”
“I don’t believe so.” Winifred winced as she wiggled her arms and legs. “Are you injured?”
“No.” Miss Juliette’s lower lip trembled, then she burst into tears and flung herself on top of Winifred. “It’s all my fault. We could have painted, but I was still angry with Father for forbidding me from playing Brag, and now, you look a fright.”
Sobbing, she buried her face in Winifred’s pelisse.
Winifred stroked a soft hand over the girl’s back, waiting until Juliette drew in a breath before saying, “A few scratches don’t make me a monster, do they?”
Miss Juliette pushed up, sniffed, and rubbed the back of her hand across her face. “Are you going to tell Father?”
“That I almost killed you?” Winifred forced a chuckle. “I’m certain I’ll need to recant the tale to him.”
“Then, he’ll probably forbid me from sledding as well,” Miss Juliette said, crawling backward off Winifred.
“Doubtful,” the Duke of Lennox said, dropping beside Winifred and offering Miss Juliette a kind smile.
“If Beaufort says one negative thing about today’s incident, I’ll remind him that he was responsible for the accident that nearly took Miss Fernsby-Webb’s life several weeks ago, and she didn’t prohibit him from taking her on future sleigh rides. ”
Eyes rounding to the size of saucers, Miss Juliette shifted her full attention to the Duke of Lennox. “Father caused an accident?”
“While racing.” The Duke of Lennox leaned closer to Miss Juliette and softened his tone as though he intended to impart a great secret. “Your father took a curve too quickly and caused the sleigh, which he and Miss Fernsby-Webb were racing in, to flip over. We had to dig them out of the snow.”
“However,” Winifred said, sitting up with the Duke of Lennox’s assistance, “he also covered me with his body before we crashed to prevent any harm from coming to me.”
“Just like you did?” Miss Juliette asked, indicating a large indentation in the snow, the exact spot that Winifred hit the ground, roughly five feet from the base of the beech tree.
“Exactly,” Winifred replied, glancing over at Miss Braddock as she dragged two sleds over.
“Based on your speed,”—Miss Braddock sank onto one of the toboggans—“I expected the sled to shatter, but there are only a few small scrapes across the front. Perhaps we should save our luck and return to the house.”
“Not yet,” Winifred said, a hard edge in her reply. “We have to go down the hill again.”
“Is that necessary?” The Duke of Lennox passed Winifred a handkerchief, which she pressed to the cut on the side of her face.
“I shall leave the decision to Miss Juliette.” Winifred struggled to her feet, with the Duke of Lennox’s assistance, then wrapped an arm over Juliette’s shoulders.
“When I was your age, my mother married Nora’s father and moved us into his residence.
Following the wedding, Nora fell ill, and my mother’s attention was diverted to Nora’s care. I was left to explore the house alone.”
“I much prefer that,” Miss Juliette said, dragging the sled behind her as they trudged up the hill. “Father told me I could go anywhere in the house as long as I informed someone of my destination.”
“That’s because his home isn’t haunted.” Winifred's comment drew a burst of laughter from Miss Braddock, who covered her mouth and twisted away, her shoulders shaking.
The Duke of Lennox didn’t share her amusement. “We previously determined Mr. Philbert’s ghost doesn’t reside in my conservatory!”
“Actually,” the Duke of Mansfield said from the top of the hill, “we never disproved the theory.”
“I was instructed,” Winifred said, interrupting the impending argument, “to stay off the attic story during my questing due to a malevolent spirit residing there.”
“Did you listen?” Miss Juliette stopped beside Winifred at the top of the hill.
“I did not.” Winifred’s mouth crooked. “And the worst thing occurred that you could possibly imagine.”
Miss Juliette gasped. “You became trapped up there?”
“For hours.” Winifred positioned the sled at the crest of the hill. “I beat my fists on the door and screamed, but not one person heard me.”
Because Mother told all the servants to stay away from the staircase leading to the attic floor, and she didn’t release me until I’d spent a full day locked in the chamber, sobbing hysterically.
It wasn’t the last time her mother used the room as a prison.
“And the specter?” Miss Juliette edged away from the toboggan. “Did you witness it?”
Winifred straddled the sled, then grabbed the steering rope and sat. “There was no apparition. Mother only said that to keep me from playing up there. But if I hadn’t ventured onto the attic floor?—”
“You wouldn’t have been stuck,” Miss Juliette finished with an ill-hidden eye roll. “I know I’m supposed to listen to my father.”
Shaking her head, Winifred gestured to the spot in front of her on the sled. “Had I not gone up there, I would’ve spent the remainder of my life fearing that chamber. I don’t. Therefore, I am going down this hill again. It’s your choice if you wish to join me.”
“I’ll go again.” Miss Wilmington dragged her sled beside Winifred’s. “We didn’t even make it a quarter of the way down before falling off.”
The Duke of Mansfield issued a strange noise as though he’d growled and swallowed the snarl before it escaped his throat. “We fell because the runner caught on a half-buried tree branch.”
“I did not fault you, Your Grace.” Miss Wilmington dropped onto the front portion of her sled. “I was hoping you’d ride with me a second time.”
He twitched, taking a step backward as though surprised by her request. “You would?”
“Of course.” She held out the steering rope. “This sled will slide much faster with the addition of your weight. We’re certain to win the race.”
“Is that true?” Miss Juliette’s head whipped toward Winifred. “Will that sled best yours?”
“If you don’t join me, most definitely.” Winifred issued a heavy sigh, rolling her shoulders forward. “And I was so looking forward to new hair ribbons.”
Miss Juliette sidled closer. “How would my addition help? We don’t weigh as much as the Duke of Mansfield.”
“True, but we possess an advantage that he does not.” Winifred grinned. “We can lean down farther on the sled. He’s not as flexible as you or me, and that will counteract the benefit of weight.”
“Is Miss Fernsby-Webb correct?” Miss Juliette looked at Miss Wilmington, who took several minutes appraising the Duke of Mansfield, then nodded.
“It appears my partner is a bit more rigid than yours.”
Both Miss Braddock and the Duke of Lennox collapsed with laughter.
Pushing his shoulders back, the Duke of Mansfield strode to Miss Wilmington’s sled and sank behind her. “If we best Lennox, I will forgive your observation.”
“And if we don’t?” she asked, twisting around.
“The duty of rewarding the winner will fall to you,” he replied, tugging in the steering rope.
Miss Wilmington snickered. “I suppose that is fair. I doubt you possess any hair ribbons.”
“Ribbons?” The Duke of Mansfield’s voice shot up a half octave. “We’re risking our lives for hair ribbons?”
“Did Miss Juliette not state the parameters of our wager?” Miss Wilmington asked, a slight wrinkle forming between her eyebrows.
Chortling, the Duke of Lennox sat on his sled. “Mansfield was occupied with a book. He didn’t know of the activity or the bet until he was disturbed by Mr. Braddock.”
The Duke of Mansfield’s dark eyebrows hovered near his hairline. “You possess ribbons with which to award the winner?”
“If I lose,” the Duke of Lennox held up a correcting finger, “I’ve volunteered a farthing in place of the hair adornment.”
“And if you win?” the Duke of Mansfield asked, folding his long legs onto his sled. “You’d look absurd wearing ribbons this evening.”
The Duke of Lennox wrapped his arms around Miss Braddock’s waist and nuzzled the back of her neck. “I intend to bestow them upon my lovely fiancée.”
“Then, I shall offer a farthing as well. I will not allow a monetary debt to be paid by Miss Wilmington.”
A wave of uncertainty flowed up from Miss Juliette.
“Your Graces,” Winifred said, praying they wouldn’t repeat her words to the Duke of Beaufort, “as Miss Juliette is forbidden from gambling, ribbons can be the only prize for today’s race. However, should the farthings’ use be limited to hair adornments, that should be an acceptable substitution.”
Leaning back, Miss Juliette whispered, “Do you think Father will be angry?”
“Only if we lose.” Winifred grinned and tightened her hold on the steering rope. “Are you ready to slide down the hill again?”
Her head moving in a blur, Miss Juliette nodded and spun around again. Facing the front of the sled, she squished down, folding herself almost flat against the sled.
“Am I low enough?” she asked, tucking a wayward section of her skirt beneath her legs.