Page 8 of Never Beguile a Duke (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #30)
“Miss Juliette,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said, kneeling and collecting the ribbons, “informed us of the connection.”
“And we,” Miss Webb added, favoring Silas with a large smile, “were delighted to make her acquaintance.”
Silence blanketed the room.
“However?” Silas said, a faint growl in his question.
Miss Fernsby-Webb floated closer, bathing him in her unusual citrus-like scent.
“To protect Miss Juliette from the vicious gossip that follows the revelation of a previously unclaimed child, Nora recommended introducing Miss Juliette tonight as the daughter you’ve always known existed but kept hidden from society. ”
Silas glanced at Juliette, who, head down, dug a toe into one of the dark fleur-de-lis adorning a light gray rug. He moved around Miss Fernsby-Webb, subtly inhaling as he passed, and knelt in front of Juliette. Lifting her chin, he stared into her hazel eyes.
“Does this suggestion upset you?” he asked.
Digging her teeth into her lower lip, Juliette nodded, then whispered, “I’m not supposed to tell falsehoods.”
Miss Fernsby-Webb snorted and, pressing a hand to her mouth, twisted away.
“As you wish,” Silas replied, rising and holding out his hand to Juliette. “We shall inform our guests that we’ve recently learned of our connection and are…”
“Joyous,” Juliette said as she wrapped her slender fingers around his hand.
“Joyous,” he repeated, “to share that discovery with our friends.”
He led Juliette from the chamber and turned right, escorting her down the corridor.
“Mr. Aylett will need to know where to store your trunk.” He gestured toward a section of closed doors. “You may select any accommodation you desire.”
Spinning in a slow circle, Juliette scrunched her face as though using all the intellectual prowess a nine-year-old possessed. “Which chamber is yours?”
“That one.” He pointed to a door at the far end.
“May I have the room next to it?” Juliette’s gaze didn’t raise quite enough to meet Silas’ eyes. “Unless that chamber is occupied…”
It was not. He knew this because he’d instructed Mr. Aylett not to house guests within two rooms of his.
“It is vacant,” he replied, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “However, I do keep unusual hours and would loathe to disturb your rest. If you’d prefer a different?—”
“I would not.” Juliette shuddered, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Mother died because only I could hear her scream, and I couldn’t...”
She burst into tears and flung herself at Silas, wrapping her little arms around his waist and sobbing against his linen shirt.
Silas froze, uncertain how to comfort the crying child, then he reached out and patted Juliette twice on the top of her head.
“Come,” he said, detaching her from his torso. “Explore your selected chamber while I hunt down Mr. Aylett and your trunk. Then, you can change for your introduction this evening.”
Juliette sniffed, rubbing her eyes with little fists. “I only have this dress.”
Silas’ gaze slid over the dingy linen frock. “That will have to do for tonight. I’ll send for the modiste to outfit you tomorrow.”
“With new clothing?” Juliette’s face shone. “I’ve never owned a dress that someone else hadn’t worn.”
His heart split, the dull ache pulsing through his chest. If he’d known of her existence, he wouldn’t have allowed her to suffer in poverty.
“Your Grace!” Mr. Aylett wheezed from the top of the staircase, balancing a large traveling trunk on the banister post. “Which chamber have you designated as Miss Juliette’s?”
When Silas pointed to the door, a low curse word floated toward them. Swallowing his grin, Silas opened the door and gestured toward the room.
However, instead of entering, Juliette moved to his side, copied the gesture, then curtsied. “Thank you, Mr. Aylett.”
She peeked up at Silas. “Was that correct… Father?”
He flinched, then offered a curt nod. “I’m assuming you’d prefer to sit beside me during the meal. Therefore, I need to alter the seating arrangements. Would you care to accompany me downstairs?”
Grabbing his offered arm with both hands, Juliette rose on her toes and whispered, “Would you also seat Miss Fernsby-Webb beside us?”
“I…” He couldn’t think of a reason to deny the request, and he rather liked the idea of spending the evening conversing with her.
And Miss Fernsby-Webb couldn’t deny the whim of a nine-year-old.
“Since this is your scheme, you should propose it to Miss Fernsby-Webb,” he said, leading Juliette toward the Webb sisters’ chamber.
“She might refuse me.” Juliette’s lip quivered. “However, if you asked, she’d be obligated to agree.”
“Wouldn’t you prefer Miss Fernsby-Webb chose to spend time with you because she wanted to and not because my title encouraged her to do so?” Silas tilted his head.
He knew very little about Juliette but hoped she wouldn’t lean into the seductive charm of power that came from being a duke’s daughter.
After a moment, Juliette nodded, then raised her fist and rapped softly on the closed door.
Miss Fernsby-Webb answered, her face breaking into a grand smile—which Silas prayed was genuine—when she spied Juliette. “Do you need assistance dressing for the evening?”
Juliette shook her head, wound her fingers together, and in one breath released the garbled phrase, “Would you sit beside me tonight when we dine?”
“I would be delighted,” Miss Fernsby-Webb replied, extending her arm backward. “If my sister is allowed to join us as well.”
“Certainly!” Juliette beamed.
Before she threw herself at Miss Fernsby-Webb, Silas placed a restraining hand upon his daughter’s shoulders.
“Your Grace,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said, adding a quick curtsey as she lifted her head. “If you have obligations that need your attention, Miss Juliette can visit with us. We’ll bring her down for the banquet.”
Juliette sniffed and pulled free of Silas’ grip. “Why are you so kind to me? I have done nothing to earn it.”
“Everyone deserves kindness.” Kneeling, Miss Fernsby-Webb brought herself eye level with Juliette. “You have done nothing that would cause me to handle you otherwise.”
“You sound like my mother.” One giant tear rolled down Juliette’s face.
She turned, raced toward the staircase, zipping around Mr. Aylett, and ran down the steps. A moment later, the front door slammed.
“Dear Lord, she’s outside.” Silas dragged a hand down his face. “I’ll never find her.”
“I’ll assist you.” Miss Fernsby-Webb slid past him, brushing against his torso as she scooted into the corridor.
A bizarre tingling rippled through his body. Excuses to accidentally touch her again tumbled through his mind.
“I couldn’t ask?—”
“You didn’t,” she replied, wrapping her fingers around his arm. “I caused Miss Juliette’s distress.”
Silas glanced down at the contact. How was she not affected by the peculiar sensation?
“We shouldn’t tarry, Your Grace.” Miss Fernsby-Webb indicated the staircase with her free hand. “It’s nearly nightfall.”
Had the circumstances been different, he would have considered a sunset stroll across the grounds with Miss Fernsby-Webb a delightful distraction. However, as the temperatures plunged with the remaining rays of light, the urgency of finding Juliette overrode every other thought.
He yanked the front door, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled for Juliette. His panic echoed across the snowy landscape.
“Look.” Miss Fernsby-Webb pointed to a barely perceptible trail of tiny footprints leading toward the rear of the house. “That must be your daughter. She’s the only person in attendance small enough to leave such a shallow impression.”
Silas nodded his agreement, and they hurried, shoes crunching on the ice, along the side of the house. As they hastened around the corner, Miss Fernsby-Webb’s foot slipped. She lost her balance and fell, dragging Silas to the ground and landing on top of his chest.
“We seem to find ourselves in the snow quite frequently,” he quipped, picking bits of ice from her hair.
She laughed. “This time, I’m grateful there’s no sleigh trapping us.”
“I must disagree,” he said, enjoying the sensation of her soft body sprawled across his. “Without the sleigh, we have no privacy.”
“And for what purpose would we need privacy?” She placed her hands on his chest but made no effort to crawl off of him. “We are nothing more than friends.”
His fingers encircled her wrists, holding her in place. “You’ve never considered anything more from me?”
“I’m not given to false hope,” she replied, her sweet breath brushing over his lips. “You’ve a wager to win, Your Grace. There’s no need to continue this conversation.”
Except he wanted to.
A horrific scream whipped around the side of the house, smacking into Silas and dragging him from his fantasy.
He and Miss Fernsby-Webb scrambled to their feet and raced toward the sound.
As they rounded the residence’s second corner, another scream, louder than the first, rippled across the frozen grounds.
In the distance, a tiny black speck collapsed in the snow.
Juliette!