Page 125 of Never Beguile a Duke
“I’m uninjured,” she said, her voice muffled by the greatcoat.
Popping up, she shoved the heavy material from her face and gestured for the Duke of Beaufort to return to the front of the house. Then, she rose, and, tucking his coat tightly around her waist, padded across the floor and opened the library door.
She hurried into the dim corridor and raced down the hallway. Veering too close to the wall, she smacked her hip into a linen-covered rectangular table and cried out.
“Miss Fernsby-Webb?” The Duke of Beaufort’s worry slipped under the door. “Is something wrong?”
“I bumped into a table,” she yelled back, limping across the foyer.
After unfastening the lock, she pulled the door open and curtsied, gesturing for him to enter.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” she said, closing the door behind him. “A pleasure to see you again so soon.”
As she spun around, the Duke of Beaufort wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her against his body.
“I can assure you, the pleasure is mine,” he rumbled, bending his neck and touching his mouth to hers.
His tongue darted out, teasing the seam of her lips. Her mouth parted, his tongue slipping into her warmth and sending shivers rippling down her spine. He drew her closer, molding her body to his as he deepened the kiss.
She clung to him, simultaneously craving his touch and fearing that he’d vanish, and she’d awaken tied to the chair in her mother’s attic.
“Stop.” Panting, the Duke of Beaufort broke their kiss and took a step backward, his green eyes glowing with desire. “I must ask you something before I become wholly distracted.”
Before she could speak, he put a finger to her lips and shook his head.
“No arguments,” he said, dropping his hand. “Either you wish to spend the remainder of your years with me, or you don’t. No other factor need be considered.”
“Miss Juliette?—”
“Has requested that I stop being a fool and ask you to marry me.” Kneeling, the Duke of Beaufort took Winifred’s hand in his. “Miss Fernsby-Webb, would you bestow upon me the greatest happiness imaginable and agree to become my wife?”
“Yes,” she replied, laughing as he leaped to his feet and lifted her, swinging her in a wide circle. “I’ve never met someone so joyful to lose ten thousand pounds.”
“I would pay any sum to spend a day in your company,” he said, setting her back on the floor and weaving his hand through hers. “May I tempt you with an afternoon of scandal?”
Winifred sank her teeth into her lower lip and glanced at the staircase, her mind warring between selfishness and responsibility.
“Tell me,” he said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
“After the sacrifices you’ve made, I don’t want to anger you,” she replied, her gaze sliding to his mesmeric green eyes.
“You want to see your sister?” His flat tone gave no indication of his mindset.
Digging her teeth deeper into her lip, Winifred nodded.
“Then, we shall do so immediately.” Cupping her face, he leaned forward, bringing his nose within an inch of hers. “Never be fearful of sharing your desires with me.”
“Even when they do not agree with yours?” she asked, unable to look away from his intense gaze.
“Especially when they don’t.” He brushed his mouth across hers, igniting the embers smoldering in her veins, then pulled away, leaving her aflame and craving his touch. “Remain inside Miss Braddock’s house while I send a messenger to the parish constable to investigate your mother’s house. Then I’ll secure a hackney coach to return you to your sister.”
“Where is your coach?” She frowned as they strolled to the front door.
“I rode with Roxburghe.” The Duke of Beaufort’s odd inflection at the name caused Winifred to stop walking.
“Where is the Duke of Roxburghe?” she asked, tightening her hold on the Duke of Beaufort’s arm and preventing him from opening the door.
“I’m not certain,” he said, his face contorting. “After Mr. Hollingsworth attacked Roxburghe outside the gaming hall and ran off with the money, I instructed Mr. Dunn to return his master to my residence, where Doctor Barnes could treat the wounds.”
