Page 58 of Never Beguile a Duke
Bending his head, he leaned down, craving the sweet taste of her lips, and paused, his mouth hovering millimeters above hers. “There’s something else I must share with you before I become distracted.”
She frowned and attempted to pull backward, but he held her in place.
“You were correct in your assumption that I hadn’t shared the full truth about our investigation at your mother’s residence.” He tightened his grip on her as though the action itself would protect Miss Fernsby-Webb from the unknown threat facing her family. “The evidence shows that the attack upon your mother was worse than she described.”
He paused, struggling to find words that wouldn’t alarm her and failing.
“The reason I requested more information about Mr. Curtis is that Roxburghe and I think he will strike again. A man desperate enough to assault an older woman won’t hesitate to harm her daughters as well.”
Miss Fernsby-Webb paled. “Do you think he will come here?”
“We don’t know,” he replied, wishing he could provide some type of comfort. “The only description we have of him is black hair and black eyes.”
“Black eyes…” Miss Fernsby-Webb murmured, her gaze shifting to the shared wall between his chamber and Juliette’s, then she gasped. “I know who Mr. Curtis is!”
Silas’ chest constricted. “You’ve met him?”
“Worse,” she replied with a grimace. “Your daughter has.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WINIFRED
The Duke of Beaufort collapsed on the floor. “How is it possible that my daughter has been exposed to multiple men with ill intent?”
“She hasn’t.” Winifred dropped to her knees, bringing herself eye level with him. “Mr. Curtis and Mr. Black are the same man.”
Silence engulfed the room. The Duke of Beaufort stared at her as though he thought her insane. After what felt like an eternity, he leaned back, resting his head against the wall.
“Convince me,” he said, patting the space beside him.
“Would you not be more comfortable somewhere else?” she asked, gesturing vaguely at the chamber.
“Such as the bed?” His mouth pulled into a wry grin.
She twisted toward the opulent four-poster. “Perhaps it’s best to stay where we are.”
The Duke of Beaufort rose, crossed the floor, and yanked a large plush coverlet off his bed. Then he returned to the corner of the room, spread out the gray-blue material, indicating Winifred should move onto the coverlet, and retook his seat.
“Do you spend a great deal of time here?” she teased, arranging her skirt over her legs.
“More than I should.” He gestured toward the guitar and sighed. “Mrs. Aylett removed the lute and violin during her preparations for this event. She informed me that if I wanted to play them, I must do so before an audience.”
Winifred’s mouth popped open, the memory of the Duke of Beaufort’s strained face floating into her mind. “Your Grace… are you shy?”
He stiffened. “I am frequently the focus of everyone’s attention.”
“However, you don’t enjoy it.” Winifred pinned him with her eyes. “And when you receive their notice, it’s on your terms. Which is why your reputation is positive yet lacking in detail.”
“Is there anything else you’ve learned from your observation of me?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his face expressionless.
“Merely that your closest friend possesses a very similar appearance to Mr. Curtis-Black.”
Riotous laughter burst from the Duke of Beaufort. “Mansfield’s eyes are dark brown. However, I’m certain he will be most delighted to learn he closely resembles the man who attacked two females within my sphere.”
He didn’t blame himself for the assaults, did he?
Winifred touched his arm. “Neither my mother nor Miss Juliette and her mother were under your protection when the incidents occurred.”
