Page 116 of Never Beguile a Duke
“The fool must still have nurtured some affection for you.”
Winifred pursed her lips, swallowing the vile retort she wished to fling at Mr. Curtis.
Mr. Hollingsworth may not have been a good man, but his final act of sacrifice raised him in her estimation, and she prayed he wouldn’t suffer in the afterlife. However, when it came to Mr. Curtis, death seemed too kind a punishment to atone for his committed atrocities.
“One detail confuses me,” said Mr. Curtis, sticking a hand into his coat pocket and retrieving a jingling, bloated sack. “The Duke of Roxburghe knew his fiancée wasn’t missing. And if he thought my missives were false, how did Mr. Hollingsworth come into possession of your ransom?”
“Nora,” Winifred said, her gaze dropping to the bag. “When I didn’t return yesterday evening, she would have been frantic. At that moment, the Duke of Roxburghe would have realized there was partial truth in your words.”
“How fortunate your sister possesses access to a fiancé with money.”
“Does that mean you intend to allow me to leave?”
“Certainly not.” Mr. Curtis laughed, tucking the sack back into his pocket. “However, since Miss Webb was kind enough to secure these funds, I’ll provide you a quick death.”
Raising the pistol, Mr. Curtis aimed the barrel at Winifred’s head.
Where was the Duke of Beaufort? Has he abandoned me to Mr. Curtis?
Her gaze flicked to the darkened staircase, but the Duke of Beaufort’s dark blond head did not appear.
Eyes narrowing, Mr. Curtis glanced behind himself, studying the shadows on the steps, then he returned his attention to Winifred. “Do you have anything else you’d like to reveal to me before I take your life?”
“Nora will demand the Duke of Roxburghe pursue you to the ends of this earth.”
“Noted.” A horrific grin split Mr. Curtis’ face. “It’s a shame no man would have you; we could have continued our conversation if you were engaged.”
“I can double the amount of money in your possession,” Winifred said, squeezing her eyes shut as Mr. Curtis pulled the trigger.
Fire whipped past her face, leaving a thin, scorching trail across her left cheek.
“I trusted you once before, and you led me astray.” Mr. Curtis’ hands closed around her shoulders. “Why should I believe you now?”
I’m alive!
“Who will pay fifty thousand pounds for your release?” asked Mr. Curtis, violently shaking her.
She cried out as the hot metal of the gun’s barrel pressed against her arm and opened her eyes. “My fiancé.”
Mr. Curtis took a step backward and locked his gaze on her eyes. “To whom are you engaged?”
“Silas Morton, Duke of Beaufort.” If only speaking his name would cause him to reappear.
He must have escaped the house without confrontation, and she was quite certain he wouldn’t return to rescue her. The Duke of Beaufort’s reputation wasn’t one of strength—unlike his imposing friends. However, if she could delay, Nora would send the Duke of Roxburghe, and he would trounce Mr. Curtis.
“When did you become engaged?” asked Mr. Curtis, his head tilting.
“Prior to the arrival of Mr. Hollingsworth,” Winifred replied, keeping her breathing steady as she held his gaze. “The announcement was to be held until the last day of the week, so as not to detract from the celebration of my sister’s engagement.”
“And the Duke of Beaufort not only possesses the sum, but he will also pay that much for your release?” Mr. Curtis’ eyes shone.
“He loves me.”
Leaning closer, Mr. Curtis sniffed her, then chuckled. “He’s had relations with you.”
Winifred’s mouth popped open. “How would you know that?”
“You wouldn’t be as confident in his affections otherwise.”
