Page 109 of Never Beguile a Duke
“I don’t understand,” she replied, her mind refusing to accept his threat. “You said you intended to leave the country with the funds; no one will ever find you. Why kill me before you depart?”
He shrugged. “I don’t like you.”
A tremor rippled down Winifred’s spine. She needed time—and a distraction—to get out of the house. Once she garnered the attention of a passerby, Mr. Curtis wouldn’t be able to harm her.
Her gaze flicked to the loose board in Nora’s floor. “Would you allow me to live if I revealed the location of additional funds?”
Eyebrows raising, Mr. Curtis turned his head, following the direction of Winifred’s eyes. “How much more?”
“Five thousand.” Winifred nodded toward the floorboard. “My secret cache.”
“Impressive,” said Mr. Curtis, rising. “And your mother never discovered the money?”
Winifred shook her head. “Unless someone knew which floorboard was loose, they’d never find the compartment.”
“I’ll consider your proposal,” Mr. Curtis replied as he crossed the room.
As he knelt and dug his fingernails under the board, Winifred scrambled to her feet and raced from the bedchamber. Behind her, Mr. Curtis roared his frustration. However, Winifred didn’t slow. She sped down the staircase, aiming for the front door.
When she reached the door, she grasped the handle and yanked, but the locked door refused to budge. Before she could unlatch the lock, Mr. Curtis smashed into her, crushing her body against the harsh wood. Then he grabbed her wrists and dragged her away from the exit.
Winifred kicked him, her foot connecting with his shin.
Snarling, Mr. Curtis threw her against the wall. She crashed into the partition, her head rebounding off the wallpaper, and staggered backward, dazed. Before she regained her bearings, Mr. Curtis grabbed her again and tossed her down the hallway toward the staircase.
She stumbled and fell.
“Either you climb those stairs yourself or I will drag you up them,” he said, striding toward her.
“You’ll have to drag me,” she retorted, scrambling backward.
“With pleasure.” He leaped, catching her legs and pinning her to the ground with his knees. “Shall I make this as painful as possible?”
A bulging sack of coins landed next to Winifred’s head and tipped, spilling some of the contents on the floor.
“Release Miss Webb,” Mr. Hollingsworth said from behind Mr. Curtis, “and you can have the portion I earned as well.”
“Are you paying for her freedom?” Disbelief colored Mr. Curtis’ question.
“I am.” The hammer of a pistol cocked. “Get up. Slowly.”
Loosening his grip on Winifred, Mr. Curtis rose and, raising his arms, turned around. “You realize by making this choice, you’re placing a hangman’s noose around your neck?”
“I do.” Gesturing with the gun, Mr. Hollingsworth backed Mr. Curtis away from Winifred. “However, my conscience will no longer torment me.”
Holding out his arm, Mr. Hollingsworth helped Winifred to her feet, then positioned her body behind his.
“We’re going to take our leave now.” He squeezed Winifred’s hand. “You are not to take one step away from that wall until we are clear of the property. After which, you may disappear, and I hope to never see you again.”
“Intriguing,” Mr. Curtis said as they backed toward the front door.
“What is?” asked Mr. Hollingsworth, the pistol still trained on Mr. Curtis’ chest.
“Two days ago, you possessed no issues with killing Miss Webb.” Splaying his hands, Mr. Curtis took a step toward them. “Today, not only do you refuse to follow through with the scheme, but you renounce your share and impose a death sentence upon yourself.”
“A man can change his mind.” Mr. Hollingsworth shuffled backward, pushing Winifred toward the exit.
“Not without cause.” Mr. Curtis took another step forward, angling his body so that his next movement corralled them in the drawing room.
