Page 5 of Never Beguile a Duke
Winifred set down the cup, then opened her reticule and withdrew three gold sovereigns.
“This is everything I have,” she said, holding out the coins.
Leaning forward, her mother swiped the money from Winifred’s palm, raised one piece to her mouth, and bit down.
“Where did you get this?” her mother asked, tucking the sovereigns into her bodice as though she expected Winifred to change her mind and demand the money’s return.
“Their origin is unimportant.” Winifred lowered her eyes, fussing with her reticule.
Her mother reached out and lifted Winifred’s chin, studying Winifred’s eyes. “Nora gave the funds to you.”
“No,” Winifred snapped, rising and brushing off her skirt.
“Then her fiancé did.” Her mother, remaining seated, smirked and tilted her head. “After their wedding, do you believe he will want to continue to pay your expenses?”
Winifred frowned. “What are you suggesting?”
“Merely that Nora would possess more sway over her husband’s money—and its direction—if they were afforded the privacy a married couple desires.” Lifting her teacup, her mother saluted Winifred. “Consider this option… return to my house and allow the Duke of Roxburghe to show his gratitude by supporting his sister-in-law—and her mother—with his vast income.”
“Your offer of hospitality was never about my welfare.” Winifred jerked the hood of her pelisse over her head and stormed toward the foyer.
As she yanked open the door, her mother called from the parlor doorway, “Don’t expect me to forgive this slight without an apology, Winifred. When you’re expelled from the
Duke of Roxburghe’s residence and you have no place to go, after you beg my forgiveness, you may return to this house. And in time, we will find a man who will overlook your… deficiencies.”
Mashing her lips together, Winifred twisted away and stepped into the snow, banging the door closed behind her. She trudged toward Miss Braddock’s rented abode, the icy wind freezing tears to her eyelashes and blinding her.
Her mother hadn’t changed one whit.
Neglecting to follow the same path on her return, Winifred slogged past the coach, remembering too late the driver stationed inside. The carriage door popped open.
She pulled the hood closely around her face, grateful for the falling snow, and ignored Mr. Dunn calling her name. After a few moments, he retreated to the coach, slamming the door, and Winifred, assuming he believed the ruse, hastened around the fence post and ran toward the entrance.
As she placed her fingers on the handle, the door ripped open, and Nora, her face tinged red, stepped forward, blocking Winifred.
“Where have you been?” Eyes bulging, she advanced, forcing Winifred backward off the doorstep. “If I discover you visited that horrible woman, I’ll leave you here and attend my engagement party at the Duke of Beaufort’s residence alone!”
CHAPTER TWO
SILAS MORTON, DUKE OF BEAUFORT
A woman’s scream shattered the late afternoon serenity.
Silas, overseeing the chamber preparation for that evening’s influx of guests, leaned his head into the hallway, seeking the screech’s origin. The shriek came a second time, louder than the first, and the door across from Silas ripped open, revealing the butler’s wide eyes.
“Was that noise caused by a servant?” Mr. Aylett asked, stepping into the corridor.
“Perhaps tonight’s fare is attempting to flee the kitchen,” Silas replied, the corner of his mouth lifting.
Mr. Aylett chuckled. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve chased a pheasant through the house.”
Groaning, Silas dragged his hand down his face. “As amusing as that situation was, I doubt my arriving guests will desire to share in the experience.”
“As you wish,” Mr. Aylett replied with a curt nod. “I shall remove catching pheasants from tonight’s activities...”
His stern expression dissolved into riotous laughter, which swelled around Silas until he, too, joined in the mirth.
An explosion of glass from the first floor silenced them.
