Page 6 of Never Beguile a Duke (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #30)
“The Duke of Beaufort could have lost his life as well.” Nora took a side of the coverlet and pulled. “His only thought was to protect you.”
I’ve seen that meddling glow previously.
“Perhaps,” Winifred said, attempting to redirect her sister’s matchmaking intentions, “his actions were merely to preserve his own life.”
“When we flipped over the sleigh, we discovered you trapped beneath him,” Nora replied, adjusting the second fur. “How do you explain his decision to fling himself on top of your body?”
“Momentum.” Winifred leveled her gaze with Nora. “And before you begin plotting, the Duke of Beaufort has not once sought my company after the accident.”
“He’s been distracted with the engagement festivities.” Nora waved away Winifred’s concern.
“And he’ll continue to be occupied during this week.” Winifred grabbed her sister’s wrist, pinning Nora’s arm to the furs. “Swear you will not meddle.”
“It’s not med?—”
“It’s interference, and I won’t have you pushing either of us toward each other to save the Duke of Roxburghe from losing that inane wager.
” Releasing Nora, Winifred raised her hand and held out her pinkie finger.
“I swore I’d help you match his friends, but as I stated previously, I will not be one of those matches. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Nora wrapped her pinkie around Winifred’s, and they shook. “Since you’ve removed yourself from the list of potential fiancées, do you have any suggestions for the Duke of Beaufort?”
Myself.
Heat flooded her body at the memory of the sensation of his torso pressed against her back. Winifred frowned, taken aback by her instant, internal response to Nora’s question.
I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship with the Duke of Beaufort!
“With his focus on hosting, perhaps we should consider one of the other dukes,” Winifred said, ignoring the strange tightening of her chest. “Do you know the other ladies attending this week’s engagement celebration?”
“I know one who refused.” Nora leaned closer and lowered her voice, despite their privacy. “Miss Creasey through her mother’s acerbic quill.”
“That is one lady who shouldn’t have foregone this celebration. However…” Winifred tapped her fingertip on her lips, her mind seeking a phrase that wouldn’t sound venomous.
She failed.
“Do you detest the Dukes of Mansfield and Warwick so much that you’d encourage a connection to Miss Creasey?”
“Winifred!” Nora’s eyes widened. “Miss Creasey’s family has lived in this town for generations.”
“And despite constant exposure to this lovely locale, their attitudes have not improved one whit.” Arching her eyebrows, Winifred dared Nora to contradict the observation.
Instead, Nora burst out laughing.
“Against the societal expectation of my future title, I agree with your statement,” Nora said, dabbing her fingers beneath her eyes to collect the evidence of her mirth.
“And I do not believe the Duke of Roxburghe would express his gratitude for my drawing Miss Creasey into our intimate circle of friends.”
“Then whom do you suggest?”
“To match with the Duke of Mansfield or the Duke of Warwick?”
“Either man.” Winifred half-raised her shoulders. “I didn’t assist with the invitations.”
Nora licked her lips and glanced out the window. “Nor did I.”
“Only the Duke of Beaufort,” Winifred snickered, “would hold a weeklong engagement celebration shrouded in mystery.”
“As long as there are no dead bodies in attendance?—”
“They wouldn’t be dead on arrival,” Winifred said, regretting the dark direction of their conversation. “Someone would murder them during the event. That’s how it happened the last two times, is it not?”
Nora pressed her lips together and nodded. She didn’t speak for the remainder of the voyage, and the half hour of silence left Winifred with the macabre preoccupation of imagining which of the ton ’s members would next lose their life and how.
The coach slowed and turned right, following a long drive of bare-branched beech trees toward the Duke of Beaufort’s residence.
Before Mr. Dunn stopped the horses, the carriage door ripped open, and the Duke of Roxburghe stuck the upper half of his body into the cabin, tension marring his handsome face.
“I was concerned you’d become lost,” he said, offering his hand to Nora.
“We stopped at Miss Braddock’s residence to retrieve an item Winifred forgot,” Nora said, climbing from the coach and curling into his embrace. “With the Duke of Beaufort occupying your time, I assumed my absence would go unnoticed.”
“First,” said the Duke of Roxburghe, raising one finger, “at all times, know that I am thinking about you.”
A light pink flush crawled into Nora’s cheeks.
“And second,” he said, holding out his free arm to Winifred, “Beaufort has been occupied most of the afternoon with a personal matter, leaving me to greet the arriving guests, none of whom have been my fiancée.”
Leaning over, he murmured in Nora’s ear, and her blush deepened.
“Who else has arrived?” Winifred asked, a sharp pang slicing through her chest as she averted her gaze from their intimate moment.
The Duke of Roxburghe lifted his head. “Mr. Venning and his daughter; she seems quite well recovered after discovering her cousin’s body in the foyer.”
“Based on what observation?” Winifred ignored the dark look Nora shot at the borderline disrespectful question.
“She’s currently tending to the Duke of Lennox.”
Nora gasped and twisted around. “Is he ill?”
“Mr. Braddock punched him.” Amusement danced through the Duke of Roxburghe’s blue eyes. “May I escort you to your shared chamber?”
Snickering, Winifred fell into step beside him. “I bet I can determine the reason.”
The Duke of Roxburghe glanced over, the corner of his mouth pulling into a grin. “I’m extremely fond of wagers, Miss Fernsby-Webb. However, since I am in a similar position as Lennox, I’m certain you know what he did to earn the blow.”
“I do.” Winifred inclined her head. “And though I may not have the physical strength to complete the same task, I’m quite certain Mr. Braddock would volunteer for the assignment should I ask him.”
“That he would.” The Duke of Roxburghe chuckled, opening the outer door and bowing as Winifred and Nora entered the house.
He led them across the tiled foyer, up a grand staircase, and turned left down a corridor decorated with glowing golden sconces.
“Beautiful.” Winifred’s murmured comment caused the Duke of Roxburghe to glance back over his shoulder.
“You seem surprised.” He stopped outside a door halfway down the hallway and reached for the handle. “Despite his tendency toward absurdity, Beaufort is titled, and his lodgings reflect that refinement.”
Heat rose into Winifred’s cheeks. “I meant nothing but a compliment regarding his discernment for exquisite furnishings.”
A soft grunt echoed down the corridor, and a moment later, Mr. Dunn appeared, carting two traveling trunks, one stacked atop the other. He trudged past them, entered the chamber, and deposited the chests at the end of a four-poster bed.
“Your Grace,” he said as he exited, “do you have a few moments to discuss an issue with one of the horses?”
“Certainly.” The Duke of Roxburghe inclined his head toward Winifred and Nora, then followed Mr. Dunn down the corridor.
“Come,” Winifred said, slipping her arm through Nora’s and dragging her into the bedchamber. “There will be plenty of opportunities this week for the Duke of Roxburghe to earn my disapproval by attempting to seduce you.”
Nora’s mouth popped open. “He?—”
“Won’t deny my accusation.” Winifred knelt in front of her trunk and unlatched the lid. “And while you wait for that happy moment, I propose we dress for dinner.”
“I hope,” Nora said, crouching beside Winifred, “that Cupid’s arrow rewards me with the duty to act as your guardian during your courtship. However, I ask that you delay that happy event until we return from Greece.”
“We’re going to Greece?” Opening the trunk, Winifred frowned and shifted her attention to Nora.
“Not you and me,” Nora said with a shake of her head. “The Duke of Roxburghe and I, after our wedding. We’ll be traveling for over two months.”
“Oh! Of course.” Chest squeezing, Winifred dropped her eyes and dug through her clothing.
Two months! Where would she live while Nora and the Duke of Roxburghe were visiting Greece? She possessed no funds to secure her own residence.
The soft scrape of shoes pulled Winifred from the increasing dread boiling in her stomach, and she raised her head, her gaze meeting the hazel eyes of a young girl.
“Good afternoon,” Winifred said, adding an encouraging smile. “Are you looking for your mother?”
“My father,” the girl replied, tucking a loose strand of mousey-brown hair behind her ear and then holding out her hand. “My name is Miss Juliette Ridlington.”
“It’s lovely to make your acquaintance.” Winifred shook the young girl’s slight hand. “I don’t recall meeting anyone with that name. Is your father a guest?”
“No.” Miss Juliette giggled. “He owns this house.”
Winifred gasped. “Your father is the Duke of Beaufort?”
“Mama called him Silas.”