Page 41 of Never Beguile a Duke
“What have you accomplished so far?”
“Roughly an hour on the floor.” Winifred stretched out her legs. “If only I could unlock the door.”
“Try this.” Miss Wilmington drew a gold hat pin from her dark blonde hair and held out the eight-inch-long metal spike.
“That’s beautiful,” Winifred said, captivated by the light green sparkles painted across the floor. “However…”
She glanced at the door lock. “I may damage the end of the stem while attempting to unlatch the door.”
“Oh, I’m certain you will.” Miss Wilmington winked. “That hat pin has been put to this use on several occasions. No one will notice; not one person inspects the tip of a hatpin.”
Winifred returned to her knees, scooted toward the door, and stabbed the hatpin into the keyhole. Wiggling the tip against the lock’s inner mechanism, she pressed her ear to the door, listening to metal grind against metal.
The door didn’t unlock.
“Perhaps you’ll have better luck,” Winifred said, passing the hatpin to Miss Wilmington and moving aside.
After a few moments of fiddling with the lock, a soft click reverberated through the hallway. Smiling, Miss Wilmington removed the hatpin and depressed the handle. However, the door wouldn’t budge.
“Perhaps I need to leave the tip inside the mechanism.” Eyes narrowing, Miss Wilmington rammed the hatpin into the keyhole a second time but, again, the door refused to open. “Are you certain Miss Juliette is inside?”
“Based on His Grace’s account, I assumed she was.” Winifred chewed on her lower lip. “However, it would have been prudent to verify that fact prior to spending the past hour in the corridor attempting to coax her from this chamber.”
“For your sake, I hope Miss Juliette is inside.” Miss Wilmington withdrew the hatpin from the door and stuck the jewel-tipped metal rod back into her hair. “However, if she isn’t, please allow me the delight of hearing you share the story at dinner this evening.”
“Agreed,” Winifred replied, wondering why she and Nora hadn’t spent more time socially with Miss Wilmington.
Placing her cheek against the carpet, Winifred squinted, her gaze scanning any shadow visible in the small crack between the door and the floor.
“Can you see anything?” Miss Wilmington asked as she peered through the keyhole.
Pushing up, Winifred shook her head. “It’s too dark. She must not have allowed Mrs. Aylett to draw the drapes this morning.”
Miss Wilmington snapped her fingers. “I have an idea. We should...”
Her next words were too soft for Winifred to understand, which must have been her plan, because a few seconds later, a floorboard squeaked roughly a foot from the door.
“Consider our first question answered,” Miss Wilmington said, her face splitting into a grin.
“How did you know that would work?” Winifred asked, nodding toward the door.
“I have five younger brothers and sisters.” Miss Wilmington shifted and sat, leaning against the wall. “Father is frequently away on business and Mother can be… overwhelmed at times.”
Winifred sat on the opposite side of the doorway. “Have you ever dealt with an issue like this one before?”
“The situation was a little different.” Her gray eyes slid to Winifred. “About two years ago, one of my brothers accidentally locked the other brother in a large trunk and buried the key; they were pretending to be pirates. However, an hour passed, and Archie couldn’t locate the key again. He was terrified for his brother.”
Winifred gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Did your brother survive?”
“He did. I used my hat pin; it was the only tool I had at the time and was quite efficient for the task. George was freed within seconds.” She leaned across the doorway and cupped her hand around her mouth. “I recommend anyone with a curious mind wear one.”
“Unfortunately for us, the hatpin didn’t unlock this door.” Winifred softly tapped the back of her head against the wall, hoping the action would knock an idea into her brain.
“What do you know of Miss Juliette?” Miss Wilmington asked, tracing her finger along a pattern decorating the rug.
“Very little.” Winifred climbed to her feet. “She’s nine, and she likes mismatched hair ribbons.”
Chuckling, Miss Wilmington rose as well. “My younger sisters enjoy a wide range of activities. I’m quite certain if we suggest one of those, we can tempt Miss Juliette from the chamber.”
