Page 30 of Never Beguile a Duke (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #30)
“What need have you for funds?” Nora asked, a tiny wrinkle appearing between her eyes. “The Duke of Roxburghe offered to pay for any expenses you may incur.”
“While I appreciate his generosity, I prefer not to be dependent upon my sister’s husband for the remainder of my life.” Winifred rose and, despite Nora’s protest, marched to the head of the table.
“Your Graces,” she said, curtsying low.
“How may we assist my fiancée’s sister this evening?” The Duke of Roxburghe twisted around in his seat.
“I’d like to set a wager on tonight’s waltz,” she said, her gaze flicking to the Dukes of Lennox and Grisham.
“Intriguing.” The Duke of Lennox moved aside his plate and leaned closer. “What are your terms?”
Winifred nodded toward the ladies seated at the center of the long table. “Each of your fiancées will correctly guess her betrothed.”
“All three?” The Duke of Grisham, with who she’d had very little interaction, turned his full attention to her. “The mathematical probability of that occurring is quite small.”
“Then, you shouldn’t be concerned about losing.” Winifred tilted her head. “Unless you don’t trust Miss Philbert…”
The Duke of Grisham’s light brown eyes slid to Miss Philbert. “Name your terms.”
“Fifty pounds, against each of you, and if I win, I receive triple my wager.” Winifred held out her hand.
“Agreed.” The Duke of Roxburghe shook first, followed by the Duke of Lennox, and, after a long moment, the Duke of Grisham.
The clinking of silver on crystal quieted the room, and the Duke of Beaufort rose, his curious gaze locking on Winifred.
“Please make your way to the ballroom,” he said, gesturing toward the dining room exit. “We will begin in ten minutes.”
Once all the guests gathered in the ballroom, the Duke of Beaufort called Nora, Miss Braddock, and Miss Philbert to the center of the room. He tied a blindfold around each lady’s head, hiding their eyes, then spun them around several times.
“Gentlemen, when I touch your shoulder, please walk to the lady I name and prepare to waltz.” He placed a hand on the Duke Roxburghe. “Miss Webb.”
As the Duke of Roxburghe crossed the floor, the Duke of Beaufort selected two more men, neither of whom was the other ladies’ fiancés.
“Remember,” the Duke of Beaufort said, striding toward a string quartet, “no speaking.”
He signaled for the small orchestra to begin, and the three ladies were swept into a waltz. After a few minutes, the Duke of Beaufort sent the second round of gentlemen, then the third.
When the final strains of the music died, the Duke of Beaufort gathered the three ladies in the center of the room.
“Once you guess,” he said, arranging the blindfolded women in a line, “the man you selected will remove your face covering and escort you for the remainder of the evening. Miss Philbert, you may choose first.”
“I know it was not the first man.” Miss Philbert’s mouth scrunched, her dark blonde head shifting from right to left, as though she were hoping to see something through the blindfold. “My fiancé was the third man I danced with.”
Silence blanketed the ballroom. Then, floating above the crowd, the Duke of Grisham’s tawny hair moved through the throng.
He emerged from the sidelines, crossed the floor, and strode to Miss Philbert.
Placing his hands on the blindfold, the Duke of Grisham leaned forward, brushed a soft kiss upon Miss Philbert’s lips, and removed the face covering.
“James!” Eyes shining, she flung her arms around him.
“I never doubted you,” he replied, flashing a smug grin at the Duke of Lennox.
“Excellent guess, Miss Philbert,” the Duke of Beaufort said as he shifted to the next lady. “Miss Braddock, it is your turn.”
She swallowed, keeping her head turned in the Duke of Beaufort’s direction, and murmured a sentence so softly that even he had to approach her.
“Would you repeat that?” he said, his sudden proximity causing her to gasp.
“I believe the Duke of Lennox was the second man I danced with,” she replied, her voice cracking.
No one moved. Then the Duke of Lennox stepped forward, strode across the room, and murmured something in Miss Braddock’s ear, causing a deep blush to explode across the visible portions of her face.
“Miss Braddock is also correct,” the Duke of Beaufort announced as her blindfold was removed.
Everyone clapped, and the Duke of Lennox escorted Miss Braddock across the floor and out of the ballroom. A moment later, Mr. Braddock disappeared, then returned with his sister on his arm and one extremely grumpy duke following behind them.
Chuckling, the Duke of Beaufort turned to Nora. “Miss Webb, have you an idea which of the three men was your fiancé?”
“It wasn’t the last one,” she said, adding a deft nod. “He smelled of bergamot.”
“And between the first and second…” The Duke of Beaufort circled Nora. “We must have a guess.”
“The first man.”
With a whoop, the Duke of Roxburghe appeared beside Nora, pulled off her blindfold, and wrapped her in a tight embrace, lifting her from the floor and swinging her in a small circle.
“I would loathe to have shared you with Mr. Egerton this evening,” he murmured as he set her back on her feet.
The Duke of Beaufort clapped his hands together. “Would the lovely fiancées each choose another lady to participate in the second round?”
“No,” Winifred groaned as Nora whipped out her arm and pointed directly at Winifred’s chest.
“I choose my sister,” Nora said, an evil grin twitching across her lips.
Winifred trudged to the center of the dance floor and turned around, allowing Nora to fasten the blindfold over her face. Miss Venning and Miss Wilmington joined Winifred, and the three ladies stood with their backs to each other, waiting for further instruction.
“This time,” the Duke of Beaufort said from Winifred’s right, “one man will dance with each of you. If you guess the man’s name, you may leave the floor and select another woman to replace you. If you guess incorrectly, you must spend the remainder of the evening with that man.”
Several giggles flitted through the surrounding guests.
“However,” the Duke of Beaufort said, moving to Winifred’s left, “I’m not encouraging anything inappropriate occur; the obligation ends when the lady retires. May I have three volunteers?”
A man took Winifred’s hand, his cold fingers wrapping around hers, and he led her a few steps forward. As the music began, he swung her to the left, guiding her into a simple waltz.
She inhaled, hoping to catch a whiff of cinnamon, indicating the Duke of Beaufort had chosen her, but a bitter, musky scent assaulted her nostrils.
The smell triggered a memory—the day she was arrested and dragged into prison.
The stench caused her stomach to flip, and she’d vomited in the corridor just outside her cell.
Her nose scrunched. Which man in attendance would have spent significant time at the prison?
She gasped, her chest constricting, and released the man, stepping back.
“I know who you are!” she announced over the music. “Mr. Neville Hollingsworth.”
The blindfold was whipped off her head, yanked by the same man, who fell to the floor and grabbed onto Winifred’s legs.
“Please forgive me,” he said, sobbing on the hem of her gown. “I will do whatever it takes to win your hand.”
Winifred’s heart pounded a thunderous rhythm. She glanced around at the people surrounding them, finding the Duke of Beaufort’s pinched face.
Jerking herself free from Mr. Hollingsworth, Winifred ran from the ballroom without giving a reply. She raced down the corridor, careened around the corner, and dashed up the staircase, heading for her bedchamber.
“Stop!” Nora’s shoes echoed in the second-floor hallway as she ran after Winifred. “I thought you were considering Mr. Hollingsworth.”
Winifred whipped around. “That was before…”
“Before?”
She sank her teeth into her lower lip. “I had relations with the Duke of Beaufort.”
“Oh.” Nora glanced up and down the empty hallway. “Are you considering pursuing a relationship with His Grace?”
“I don’t know,” Winifred replied, lowering her voice. “He hasn’t spoken directly to me since.”
“Perhaps he’s struggling with his own emotions,” Nora said, wrapping an arm around Winifred’s waist. “I cannot imagine this is the most ideal time for him to sort out what his heart desires.”
“He invited Mr. Hollingsworth.”
“A decision I’m certain the Duke of Beaufort regrets, and if he doesn’t yet, we’ll help him to see the error.
” Nora gently turned Winifred and led her down the hallway toward the staircase.
“If you swear not to strike Mr. Hollingsworth, I will help you determine the Duke of Beaufort’s true sentiments toward you. ”
Winifred laughed. “Agreed.”
As they descended the steps, their bedchamber door opened, and Mrs. Webb peeked her head out of the room. Silently, she emerged, closed the door with a soft click, and snuck down the corridor in the opposite direction, heading for the servants’ staircase.