Page 56 of Never Beguile a Duke (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #30)

Every man focused the whole of his attention on Grisham.

“When I invited you to become members of the Wayward Dukes’ Alliance, I never suspected it would take this long for love to find you.

However, I’m pleased that Cupid has finally arrived in Wiltshire.

As you journey forward through this next portion of life, the support you have for each other will prove immeasurably beneficial. ”

Warwick plunked his glass on the table. “What of us unfortunate unmarried sots?”

“It’s your duty,” Grisham continued in a clear voice, “to guide the unattached members of your group toward the same happiness you now possess. Yours in faith, George St. Giles, Duke of Cranbrook.”

“That direction,” Mansfield said, striding toward Grisham and Lennox, “is in violation of the rules of our wager.”

“Encouraging a connection,” Grisham said, raising his head, “is not the same as duping a friend into marriage.”

“You wouldn’t,” Mansfield said, his gaze moving to the faces of each engaged man and finally landing on Warwick’s.

“They would,” Warwick replied with a grimace. “None of us thought Beaufort would fall.”

“I did,” Roxburghe said, lifting one finger and grinning. “Miss Webb swore to find matches for all of you.”

“She has no more sisters.” Warwick toyed with his glass. “And Miss Braddock only has one brother. Who else does your lovely fiancée consider to be a viable match?”

“She has not shared her scheme with me.” Roxburghe touched the side of his snifter to a discolored section of skin near his eye and winced. “If she did, per the terms of our wager, I’d be obligated to inform you of the plan.”

Silas set his empty glass on the small table. “Since the Duke of Cranbrook has instructed the betrothed members of our group to guide Warwick, Mansfield, and myself?—”

“You’re engaged!”

“It hasn’t been announced yet,” Silas replied, his mouth curving upward. “I will accept my guidance through the sacrifice of a wedding date.”

Lennox chuckled. “I doubt you wish to take mine.”

“I don’t.” Silas inclined his head. “However, Grisham and Roxburghe are sharing a day, and one of them could make the offering.”

Grisham crushed a corner of the missive and scowled at Silas. “I wasn’t involved when the wager was set. If anyone should guide by example, look to Roxburghe.”

“Still no,” Roxburghe replied, rolling the glass across his bruised cheek. “Even if you offered me another ten thousand pounds.”

“Fifty thousand?” asked Silas, arching his eyebrows.

“I attempted the same,” Lennox muttered with a shake of his head. “Neither man would accept a bribe, no matter the quantity I proposed. Perhaps they will bend to violence.”

“I appreciate your suggestion,” Silas said, returning to his position in front of the blazing fire. “However, Grisham and Roxburghe possess an advantage that I do not.”

“Which is?”

“They like to fight.”

Warwick’s hand came down on Roxburghe’s shoulder, holding him to his chair. “I have a solution that will end this squabbling. All four of you should stand up there.”

Silas grinned. “An excellent suggestion. But why not the six of us?”

“Neither Mansfield nor I is engaged.”

“Yet…”

“Perhaps,” Mansfield said, his dark eyes glowing, “you should leave room for one more couple.”

A collective gasp floated around the parlor.

“Are you in earnest?” Silas asked, recovering first.

“No,” Mansfield replied, his clipped tone leading Silas to believe the opposite was true. “However, it stands to reason that, with the length of time remaining this season, one of us will fall.”

“Let’s vote,” Silas said, issuing a low bow to Mansfield. “Who do you think will be the next man engaged?”

Mansfield’s face pinched as though he intended to protest the question, then he said, “Warwick.”

Warwick snorted. “Then I choose Mansfield.”

“That’s fair,” Silas replied, shifting his eyes to Roxburghe. “Who do you select?”

“Mansfield,” Roxburghe said after a long minute. “He hasn’t struck anyone with a cane.”

“He scowls at everyone,” Lennox said, reclaiming his seat. “I choose Warwick; he forgave his horse for injuring him.”

“Grisham?” Silas turned with a grin. “The tally is tied. What say you?”

Frowning, Grisham’s head oscillated between the two men. “Each one possesses redeeming qualities that could sway a lady’s mind. However, based upon the interactions I witnessed this week, I cast my vote for Mansfield.”

“What did you witness?” Mansfield growled, taking a step toward Grisham.

“A spark,” Grisham replied but refused to elaborate, no matter how many threats Mansfield issued.

“Your Grace?” Miss Fernsby-Webb hovered in the doorway. “May I have a moment?”

Silas’ heart leaped.

“You may have as many as you like,” he said, striding toward her.

Grisham’s arm came out, impeding Silas. “You still need to vote.”

“Warwick,” Silas said, ducking under Grisham’s arm and escorting Miss Fernsby-Webb into the corridor.

As Silas drew her into his embrace, she asked, “What were you voting on?”

“Which of us will become engaged next,” he said, his eyes half-closing as he inhaled her intoxicating citrusy scent.

“What was the result?”

“Evenly split.” Silas leaned forward, his lips hovering millimeters from hers. “Although we did solve the issue of who will marry first.”

Miss Fernsby-Webb pulled back with a frown. “What did you decide?”

“A quadruple wedding, as long as Miss Philbert and your sister are in agreement with the suggestion.”

“Perhaps we should plan for a sextet.” Miss Fernsby-Webb tilted her head toward the parlor doorway. “Not only did Nora request my assistance with pairing your unattached friends, but she also enlisted Miss Braddock.”

“Have you made any progress with that quest?”

“It’s too soon to determine if any seeds have grown,” Miss Fernsby-Webb replied, the corner of her mouth tugging into a furtive smile. “However, my sister is quite effective. She matched both the Duke of Lennox and you.”

“Me?” Silas’ eyes bulged. “I thought our attraction was spontaneous.”

“Nora notices things.”

“Such as?”

Miss Fernsby-Webb chewed her lip. “You stare at me when you think no one is watching.”

He laughed. “Yes, I suppose I do. What else has your sister remarked upon?”

“She says that after I spend time with you, I glow.”

“I would like to witness that phenomenon,” he replied, eliminating the distance between them and crushing her body to his. “Is your sister expecting you to return to the drawing room anytime soon?”

“Probably…” Miss Fernsby-Webb wrinkled her nose. “Unless you require your fiancée’s presence.”

“I do,” Silas replied, wrapping his hand around hers and leading her toward the staircase. “For the remainder of this evening and most of tomorrow.”

“We’re departing tomorrow morning,” she said, stepping onto the first riser.

“Then, inform Miss Braddock, and her brother, that I intend to call upon you tomorrow afternoon and every day thereafter until our wedding.” Silas lifted Miss Fernsby-Webb’s hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her fingers.

“I shall enjoy spending the next few months seducing you in inappropriate locations.”

“Your Grace!” Miss Fernsby-Webb gasped, glancing over her shoulder at the empty foyer. “If my sister heard you?—”

“She would demand the same of Roxburghe, and I’m quite certain,” Silas said, leaning in and lowering his voice, “that he would happily perform the request, if he isn’t already doing so.”

Miss Fernsby-Webb stopped and turned toward him, her teeth digging into her lip. “Are you certain this union is what you want? Not what’s best for Miss Juliette or what your friends expect of you, but what you, Silas Morton, Duke of Beaufort, truly desires?”

“When the sleigh flipped, and we were trapped beneath the heavy vehicle, I expected panic, blame, and tears. You did none of those things, and then, after we were rescued, you requested another ride.” He cupped her face. “Only a fool would squander an opportunity with you over a silly wager.”

“And you are not a fool,” she replied, winding her arms around his waist.

“I am not.” Grinning, he bent his head. “And I intend to spend my lifetime proving that to you.”

The End