Page 48 of Never Beguile a Duke
Silas hurried to catch him and grabbed Roxburghe’s arm, stopping him. “I refuse to walk the full distance.”
“We’re renting a hackney,” Roxburghe said, pulling his arm free. “Mr. Dunn won’t be pleased to discover we’ve stolen the coach.”
They flagged down a driver, and, after Silas paid the fare, climbed into the carriage.
“You’re amassing quite a debt, Roxburghe,” he said as he took a seat. “Between your loss of our wager and today’s adventure, are you certain you can afford to marry Miss Webb?”
“I haven’t lost our wager yet.” Roxburghe dropped onto the opposite bench and winked. “There are only three bettors remaining, and one is in grave danger of giving away his heart.”
“Mansfield?” Silas asked, enunciating the word as he leaned forward.
They both knew to whom Roxburghe was referring, and it wasn’t the Duke of Mansfield.
“You’re still a fool.” Roxburghe leaned back and closed his eyes.
“Nothing is occurring between Miss Fernsby-Webb and me,” Silas ground out, the falsehood carving up his tongue.
“Because you refuse to allow it.” Roxburghe opened his eyes and glared at Silas. “Which is why you invited a rival to vie for her attention.”
“Only one man requested Miss Fernsby-Webb’s hand, and after all the suffering he’s endured, he deserves love.”
“At your expense?” Roxburghe’s eyebrows hovered near his hairline. “I’ve never known you to be so noble.”
Expelling a heavy sigh, Silas slumped forward. “I’ve a daughter, Roxburghe.”
“Who needs a mother.”
“A governess will do,” Silas replied, lifting his head and fixing Roxburghe with a hard stare. “It is egregious to expect Miss Fernsby-Webb, or any lady, to take on Juliette.”
Roxburghe's mouth settled into a thin line. “I wish to correct my earlier statement. You are not a fool, you’re a c?—”
“Call me a coward, and Mr. Hollingsworth’s injuries will pale in comparison to what I’ll do to you,” Silas growled, his hand tightening into a trembling fist.
“You’re not a fighter,” Roxburghe replied, drawing his legs closer as he shifted into an offensive position. “Punching damages your knuckles and makes playing instruments quite painful while your hands heal.”
“I’ll risk it.”
“Before you cause our friends to choose sides, consider the reason that moniker angers you.” Roxburghe tilted his head. “Do you think it’s true?”
Yes.
Roxburghe didn’t press Silas for an answer, an act that earned Silas’ gratitude, and they rode in silence until they reached Mrs. Webb’s residence. However, as he climbed from the coach, Roxburghe paused in the doorway.
“Two days may not be enough time to sway the lady’s mind in your favor, but consider if you’re willing to live the remainder of your life seeing her and never touching her again.”
I should have struck Roxburghe in the center of his smug face.
Silas chased after his friend. “What would you do in my position? I can’t uninvite Mr. Hollingsworth.”
Chuckling, Roxburghe turned around. “You didn’t attend Lennox’s Christmas ball, yet I know you’ve heard the bourdaloue story.”
“Miss Webb struck Mr. Philbert with the item after he coerced her into accepting his proposal.” Silas shrugged. “Are you saying I should copy her action?”
“My point,” Roxburghe said, rolling his eyes, “was that Miss Webb was engaged, and I still pursued and professed my affection for her. You don’t have the obstacle… yet.”
The retort Silas intended to fling transformed to a curse when his gaze landed on the Webb residence’s wide-open door. He issued a worse word and rushed up the snow-covered walk to the entrance, Roxburghe one step behind.
“Do you think anyone is inside?” Silas asked, his shoes grinding bits of broken glass into the stoop as he peeked into the house.
