Page 29 of Never Beguile a Duke (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #30)
WINIFRED
N either the Duke of Beaufort, nor his daughter, joined them for the morning meal, and after they forewent the afternoon feast as well, Winifred’s overactive imagination blamed their absence on her scandalous tryst with him the previous evening.
“Why are you scowling?” Nora asked as they strolled toward the drawing room.
With the onset of another snowstorm that afternoon, the whole of the party had been sequestered to the house, and yet, even with that restriction, the Duke of Beaufort and Miss Juliette remained noticeably absent from the festivities.
“I hoped to amuse myself with a stroll,” Winifred replied, slashing her hand toward the white flakes whipping past the drawing-room windows.
Closing her book and setting the tome aside, Miss Braddock raised her head, her bright blue eyes sliding over Nora and Wilhelmina.
“It may not be the change of scenery you desire, Miss Fernsby-Webb. However, Miss Wilmington and her mother are currently promenading through the downstairs. Perhaps we could join them?”
Miss Braddock’s suggestion garnered the support of most of the women in attendance, and they devised a game to divert themselves from the redundancy of continually passing each other.
As one set of ladies walked by, the woman closest to the group heading toward the parlor would state a phrase.
This sentence was then passed to the next bunch and so forth until the altered phrase was repeated to the originating lady, and compared to the beginning statement, resulting in hysterical outcomes.
“Is she mad?” Winifred asked as they passed Miss Venning and the Duke of Grisham’s fiancée, Miss Isabel Philbert. “The chicken crows with goats?”
Nora snickered. “I’ve heard Miss Sutton make much more bizarre statements; perhaps that’s truly what she said.”
As they neared the Sutton sisters, Winifred leaned over and repeated what Miss Venning had said. The Sutton girls dissolved into giggles; Frederica recovered first.
“Augusta said, ‘The children row the boats’,” revealed the elder Miss Sutton, wiping tears from her eyes.
The game continued in this fashion until Mrs. Aylett announced the evening meal would occur in one hour. The ladies scattered, each returning to her respective chamber to dress for the occasion.
Winifred nudged Nora as they climbed the staircase. “I was surprised the Duke of Roxburghe didn’t join us this afternoon.”
“After breakfast, he pulled me aside and disclosed that the Duke of Beaufort planned a special event for the men.” Nora tilted her head, listening to the house. “As I hear no male voices, I assume that activity took place in a different location.”
“You don’t know what they’re doing?” pressed Winifred.
Perhaps Miss Juliette accompanied her father on the outing… That would seem the most prudent reason for her absence, but Winifred couldn’t shake the distressing thought that he’d forbidden his daughter from associating with Winifred.
“I’m certain we will learn of their experience this evening,” Nora replied, her shrewd gaze sliding over Winifred. “Why are you concerned about my fiancé’s current location?”
It wasn’t his location that currently plagued Winifred.
“I’m merely commenting upon his absence, which is quite noticeable as he’s been a constant fixture in both of our lives for several weeks now.”
Nora frowned, her face scrunching with confusion. “You don’t like the Duke of Roxburghe?”
“I find him quite amusing.” Winifred wrapped an arm around her sister’s waist. “I shall miss you both after the wedding.”
“Where are you going?” Nora asked, her spiked voice causing the Misses Sutton to glance back at them.
“I doubt the Duke of Roxburghe wishes me to live with you during the honeymoon phase of your relationship.” Elbowing Nora, Winifred winked. “And he will appreciate me much more once I’m no longer your chaperone.”
“Where will you stay?” Nora asked as she pushed open the door to their shared chamber.
“With me,” their mother said, groaning when Doctor Barnes pressed on a bandaged portion of her head.
Absolutely not.
“You’re recovering quite well, Mrs. Webb,” he said, straightening and collecting his leather bag. “I don’t see any harm in participating in tonight’s activities, as long as you don’t exert yourself too much.”
He bowed to Nora and Winifred, then exited, closing the door behind him.
“Such a kind man,” Mrs. Webb said, climbing from the bed. “Winifred, have you considered?—”
“No.” Winifred strode across the floor and knelt in front of her trunk. “I’ll not hear another matchmaking suggestion. You’ve already thrown your support behind Mr. Hollingsworth, removed that same support, then returned it again.”
“I only did what I thought was best,” her mother replied with a sniff. “When you have daughters, you’ll understand the struggle of raising willful girls.”
“Enough,” Nora said, squashing the impending argument. “Neither of us owes you any consideration, Amelia. If Winifred wishes to wed the stable boy or remain a permanent spinster, the Duke of Roxburghe and I will defend—and fund—whatever choice she desires.”
“Thank you,” Winifred mouthed, glancing over as Nora crouched beside her.
Nora nodded once and opened her trunk. “Am I correct in assuming you have nothing to wear this evening, Amelia?”
“You are.” It pained their mother to make that admission, which is why Winifred was quite certain Nora forced her to state the words aloud.
“I have a gown that should fit you.” Nora sorted through several colorful dresses, unearthing a puce garment that had faded to dusky mauve.
Their mother visibly shuddered, then she curtsied, offered a wide smile, and took the gown. “Of course, I am grateful for whatever charity the future Duchess of Roxburghe chooses to bestow upon me.”
Winifred rolled her eyes, forcing Nora to dive into her trunk as she burst into laughter.
“What did you do?” Nora hissed thirty minutes later as they were seated in the middle of a long dining table beside their mother.
“Nothing; I was with you all day,” Winifred murmured, her gaze skating over the guests.
On one end of the table sat the Dukes of Roxburghe, Lennox, and Grisham. Gathered on the opposite side were the Dukes of Mansfield, Warwick, and Beaufort. Beside them, a thick buffer of gentlemen prevented Winifred from catching sight of the Duke of Beaufort’s dark blond hair.
However, she could hear his voice, and each word that floated her direction pushed her into a deeper melancholy, especially since Miss Juliette was absent again from the meal. By the time they finished eating, Winifred wholly believed she had caused the Duke of Beaufort’s sudden dismissal.
“My friends!” The Duke of Beaufort stood and lifted his glass, saluting the opposite end of the table. “It is my honor to share this joyful occasion with you and your lovely fiancées.”
He toasted Nora—avoiding eye contact with Winifred—then turned to Miss Braddock, and then Miss Philbert. “I wish you many happy years together.”
A collective cheer rose around the table, and all the guests lifted their glasses, saluting the three couples.
“However,”—the Duke of Beaufort set down his empty goblet—“I wonder how well each of your fiancées knows you. Therefore, in twenty minutes we will play a game… You’re all going to participate in a blindfold waltz!”
“What’s that?” Miss Braddock whispered as she leaned across the table toward Winifred.
The Duke of Beaufort held up his hands, quelling the guests’ murmurs.
“For those of you who’ve not heard the term, each lady will be blindfolded and must dance with three gentlemen.
At the end of the song, the lady must guess which gentleman was her fiancé.
And, to make this more difficult, the couples may not speak to each other. ”
Clearing his throat, the Duke of Grisham stood. “What does my dear fiancée win if she guesses correctly?”
“I’m assuming your gratitude,” the Duke of Beaufort replied with a grin. “The lady must spend the remainder of the ball with the man she selects, even if that man is not her betrothed. Ladies, choose wisely.”
“Scandalous,” Miss Sutton said, catching her sister’s eye, and the two of them dissolved into giggles.
“Winifred,” her mother said, pressing her napkin to her mouth and paling. “I need to lie down for a bit. Please offer my regrets to the Duke of Beaufort.”
“Would you like me to accompany you upstairs?” Winifred asked, hoping her mother would accept the offer.
“There’s no need for you to miss the festivities as well,” her mother replied as she rose.
Damn.
“However, I expect you to advise me of what occurred with Nora’s waltz when you retire this evening.” She gave Nora’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, then shuffled from the dining hall, still clutching the linen napkin to her face.
“Why did Amelia leave?” Nora asked, her question barely carrying over the conversations swirling around them.
“She needs to lie down,” Winifred replied in an equally soft tone. “I hope the dinner wasn’t too exhausting for her. Perhaps I should stay with her.”
“There’s no need for your concern.” Nora tilted her head toward the group of men at the far end of the table. “If she has a setback, Doctor Barnes is already present to assist. Now, how do you suggest I determine which man is my fiancé?”
Glancing at the Duke of Roxburghe, Winifred scrunched her face, mulling over several suggestions. “I suppose his scent would be the best indication of identity.”
“As long as no other man wears the same cologne…” Nora glanced at the end of the table, catching the Duke of Roxburghe’s gaze.
He winked, then extended his hand to the Duke of Lennox.
Winifred snickered, shaking her head. “Apparently, there’s a wager involved, too.”
“Of course there is,” Nora groaned and raised her eyes to the ceiling.
“I’m certain you’ll know him,” said Winifred, patting Nora’s hand and then grinning. “Perhaps I should ask to participate in their bet…”