Page 113 of Never Beguile a Duke
Seconds crawled by, and his mind filled with horrific images of Miss Fernsby-Webb’s lifeless body.
Forcing his legs up the staircase, his body tensing each time a step protested his weight, Silas reached the landing and smacked into a wall. A fraction of light crawled under a one-inch space beneath the wall.
His tongue trapped between his teeth, he ran his fingers over the wall, seeking a lever or handle. His hand brushed across cold metal, and he seized the lever, lifting it and pushing the partition outward.
The hidden door opened to reveal the first-floor corridor. Peering through the opening, Silas glanced to his right and left. Then, he slipped into the hallway and pushed the wall closed behind him.
Before investigating the rooms on the floor, Silas hastened toward the front door, picking his way through broken vase pieces, hyacinth petals, and shards of the entryway table. He unlocked the latch, opened the door, and stepped onto the doorstep, hoping to see Roxburghe’s or Grisham’s coach on the street, but only unrecognizable vehicles greeted him.
He couldn’t wait for assistance to arrive—if they even knew which direction he’d run off when he chased Mr. Hollingsworth. Therefore, Silas closed the door, his gaze sliding across the entryway for any type of usable weapon.
None of the table fragments appeared large enough to cause any damage… unless he flung them at Mr. Hollingsworth and Mr. Curtis. However, Silas selected the largest piece anyway, knowing some type of armament would be better than none.
As he straightened, half of a table leg in his hand, a low moan crawled out of the chamber to the right of the foyer. He crept over to the doorway and peered into what he assumed was the drawing room, although it, too, was bereft of furniture, containing only a worn, light blue and white floral rug.
On the corner of the rug, the center of his shirt stained crimson, an immobile Mr. Hollingsworth lay face up in a pool of blood.
Relief, and a small dosage of guilt, rushed through Silas’ veins at the realization that the gunshot he’d heard had been Mr. Curtis shooting Mr. Hollingsworth, not Miss Fernsby-Webb.
Mr. Hollingsworth moaned again, drawing Silas across the floor.
Silas knelt. However, before he could speak, Mr. Hollingsworth coughed, spraying a fine mist of blood into the air, and rolled his head toward Silas.
“Your Grace,” Mr. Hollingsworth managed before another coughing fit took him.
“Where is she?” Silas retrieved a handkerchief and wiped the blood from Mr. Hollingsworth’s mouth.
“The attic…” He coughed again and twisted away from Silas.
“There are no angels where I’m heading,” Mr. Hollingsworth said, his hand whipping up, grabbing Silas’ shirt, and dragging him closer. “Please forgive me, Your Grace. I’m a weak man.”
“It’s not my forgiveness that you should request, it’s Miss Fernsby-Webb’s… and Miss Webb’s.” Silas added the second name, uncertain if Mr. Hollingsworth knew he’d abducted the wrong sister.
“And their mother’s.” Mr. Hollingsworth coughed, released Silas, and fell back, his eyes rolling.
“Mrs. Webb wasn’t aware of this scheme?”
When he didn’t respond, Silas grabbed Mr. Hollingsworth and shook him. “Did Mrs. Webb know?”
“No,” Mr. Hollingsworth groaned, swatting at Silas’ hands. “She thought my appearance at your residence was merely to convince her stepdaughter that my second marriage proposal was sincere.”
Another coughing fit wracked his body, and his limbs went limp, his head drooping to the side. As Silas rose, Mr. Hollingsworth grabbed onto the cuff of Silas’ trouser leg.
“You must rescue Miss Fernsby-Webb,” Mr. Hollingsworth said, his eyes opening. “Mr. Curtis will kill her.”
“You know her true identity?” Silas’ stomach clenched. “Does Mr. Curtis?”
Mr. Hollingsworth drew in a shallow breath and murmured, “I didn’t inform him of the error.”
“When did you discover the truth?” Lowering himself to the ground, Silas leaned over Mr. Hollingsworth, nearly pressing an ear to the dying man’s lips.
“Before I took her,” said Mr. Hollingsworth, his raspy voice barely reaching Silas. “When she entered the stables instead of her sister. I should have stopped the scheme, but I was angry. She refused me for another man.”
“He’s a better man,” Silas replied, unable to hold his tongue.
“It was you, wasn’t it? The duke she intended to meet?” Mr. Hollingsworth crooked his arm and raised his hand from the floor. “Swear you’ll give her the life I couldn’t.”
Taking Mr. Hollingsworth’s hand, Silas squeezed tight. “I swear.”
