Page 115 of Never Beguile a Duke
Silas hastened to the door, cracked it open, leaned into the corridor, and froze as Mr. Curtis’ bewilderment whipped up the staircase.
“That’s impossible,” he said, his words accompanied by the dull thud of Mr. Hollingsworth’s body being flipped onto its stomach. “How could you be upstairs on the staircase and dead in the drawing room at the same moment? Unless…”
Mr. Curtis issued a low curse and rushed from the room.
Pulling back, Silas closed the door and tiptoed across the chamber, retreating to his hiding place as Mr. Curtis’ shoes hammered the main staircase.
When Mr. Curtis reached the second-floor landing, he raced down the corridor, heading for the bedchamber in the opposite direction of Silas. Thirty seconds later, Mr. Curtis emerged from the far chamber and entered the second room, his footsteps beating a small circle on the floorboards.
Only one more room separated them.
Silas squished his bulk against the bed frame, hiding himself beneath the edge of a thin, pale-blue coverlet as the door to the chamber beside his opened.
A moment later, footsteps echoed outside the room in which Silas hid. When the door opened, Mr. Curtis entered, and Silas held his breath, hoping to avoid detection. However, unlike the other chambers, Mr. Curtis didn’t leave after a few seconds.
Peeking out from beneath the coverlet, Silas peered around the bottom of the mattress, finding Mr. Curtis rotating in a slow circle, his dark gaze inspecting every inch of the room. As Mr. Curtis turned, his black eyes dropped to the bed and locked on Silas.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
WINIFRED
“I’m not Nora!” Winifred’s words reverberated through the house.
Silence met her admission, and she feared she’d revealed the truth too late to save the Duke of Beaufort from Mr. Curtis’ wrath. Then, a cacophony exploded on the staircase, and Mr. Curtis burst into the attic, his chest heaving.
“What did you say?” he asked, placing one hand against the doorframe and drawing in a ragged breath.
“I am not Nora,” said Winifred, lifting her chin. “My name is Miss Winifred Fernsby-Webb. Nora is my sister.”
Mr. Curtis’ face darkened and, raising the pistol, he stormed across the floor and pushed the barrel against Winifred’s forehead. “Why would Mr. Hollingsworth bring me the wrong sibling?”
Winifred shrugged. “If you hadn’t shot him, you could have inquired about his motivation.”
“I’m asking you.”
“I don’t know what he was thinking,” Winifred replied, wincing as the gun dug into her skin.
“Surely, Mr. Hollingsworth could determine the difference between you and your sister.” Mr. Curtis leaned closer, a sneer curling his lip. “Especially since he had intimate knowledge of your body.”
She kicked her foot, striking Mr. Curtis’ knee, and he danced away with a groan.
“That missive was meant for Miss Webb,” he said, keeping his distance as he limped past Winifred. “How did you intercept it?”
“Nora wasn’t in our shared bedchamber when the message was delivered.” Winifred shifted her gaze to the doorway, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Duke of Beaufort. “She was already with the Duke of Roxburghe; therefore, the missive couldn’t have been from him.”
“At that time of morning?” Mr. Curtis’ eyebrows raised. “Your mother has absolutely no authority over either of her daughters, does she?”
“She forfeited any consideration months ago,” Winifred replied, returning her attention to Mr. Curtis, “when she sent me to prison.”
“Is she not currently residing at the Duke of Beaufort’s residence?”
“Solely due to your attack.” Winifred scowled at him. “She nearly died.”
“Then, I would have done you a great favor.” Mr. Curtis rubbed the muzzle against his temple as he paced. “However, that doesn’t explain why Mr. Hollingsworth would bring you here, knowing what I intended to do to you.” Mr. Curtis stopped directly in front of Winifred, his probing gaze sliding over her.
“If I were to venture a guess, I’d assume Mr. Hollingsworth made the decision because he was angry that you arrived at the stables to meet an unknown gentleman and wanted revenge. However, that doesn’t explain why he changed his mind. Unless…”
Tipping his head back, Mr. Curtis released a braying laugh.
