Page 131 of Never Beguile a Duke
A collective gasp floated around the parlor.
“Are you in earnest?” Silas asked, recovering first.
“No,” Mansfield replied, his clipped tone leading Silas to believe the opposite was true. “However, it stands to reason that, with the length of time remaining this season, one of us will fall.”
“Let’s vote,” Silas said, issuing a low bow to Mansfield. “Who do you think will be the next man engaged?”
Mansfield’s face pinched as though he intended to protest the question, then he said, “Warwick.”
Warwick snorted. “Then I choose Mansfield.”
“That’s fair,” Silas replied, shifting his eyes to Roxburghe. “Who do you select?”
“Mansfield,” Roxburghe said after a long minute. “He hasn’t struck anyone with a cane.”
“He scowls at everyone,” Lennox said, reclaiming his seat. “I choose Warwick; he forgave his horse for injuring him.”
“Grisham?” Silas turned with a grin. “The tally is tied. What say you?”
Frowning, Grisham’s head oscillated between the two men. “Each one possesses redeeming qualities that could sway a lady’s mind. However, based upon the interactions I witnessed this week, I cast my vote for Mansfield.”
“What did you witness?” Mansfield growled, taking a step toward Grisham.
“A spark,” Grisham replied but refused to elaborate, no matter how many threats Mansfield issued.
“Your Grace?” Miss Fernsby-Webb hovered in the doorway. “May I have a moment?”
Silas’ heart leaped.
“You may have as many as you like,” he said, striding toward her.
Grisham’s arm came out, impeding Silas. “You still need to vote.”
“Warwick,” Silas said, ducking under Grisham’s arm and escorting Miss Fernsby-Webb into the corridor.
As Silas drew her into his embrace, she asked, “What were you voting on?”
“Which of us will become engaged next,” he said, his eyes half-closing as he inhaled her intoxicating citrusy scent.
“What was the result?”
“Evenly split.” Silas leaned forward, his lips hovering millimeters from hers. “Although we did solve the issue of who will marry first.”
Miss Fernsby-Webb pulled back with a frown. “What did you decide?”
“A quadruple wedding, as long as Miss Philbert and your sister are in agreement with the suggestion.”
“Perhaps we should plan for a sextet.” Miss Fernsby-Webb tilted her head toward the parlor doorway. “Not only did Nora request my assistance with pairing your unattached friends, but she also enlisted Miss Braddock.”
“Have you made any progress with that quest?”
“It’s too soon to determine if any seeds have grown,” Miss Fernsby-Webb replied, the corner of her mouth tugging into a furtive smile. “However, my sister is quite effective. She matched both the Duke of Lennox and you.”
“Me?” Silas’ eyes bulged. “I thought our attraction was spontaneous.”
“Nora notices things.”
“Such as?”
