Page 61 of Never Beguile a Duke
“You wouldn’t need to conceal that relationship.”
“Your Grace,” Winifred folded her hands, setting them on her lap, “I’m confused as to why someone who placed a wager to avoid marriage is encouraging me toward that deplorable outcome. Would it not be simpler to refuse the Duke of Roxburghe’s request to house my mother and me until my wedding day?”
He shoved off the floor, marched over to the desk, and slammed the page down on top of the stack. “I have no issue assisting Roxburghe or you and your mother indefinitely.”
“Thankfully, you won’t need to. I don’t intend to stay in Wiltshire after my sister marries.”
“How do you intend to support yourself?” he asked, his back to her.
“I’ll look for a position as a governess.” She slowly climbed to her feet, uncertain of the Duke of Beaufort’s mind. “It’s you who deserves credit for the idea.”
“Me?” He whipped around. “I’ll take no credit for such an inane scheme. Both your sister and Roxburghe will be furious if I cause your disappearance.”
“I have no intention of placing any blame upon you.” She hesitated, then took a step toward the Duke of Beaufort. “However, I ask that you keep this information secret.”
“You’re going to leave town without speaking to your sister?” He grimaced, dragging a hand through his hair. “She’ll be distraught.”
“Once I’m settled at my new residence, I’ll send Nora a missive to ease her mind.”
And one day, she’ll forgive me for running off.
“What of Mr. Curtis?” The Duke of Beaufort glided closer, meeting Winifred in the center of the chamber. “He continues to be a viable threat.”
“I cannot reside with you for an unknown period of time, without drawing scandal, until he is captured.” She glanced down as the Duke of Beaufort took her hands in his. “Surely, you realize the rumors that would come from that arrangement.”
“I’ll propose.” He drew her closer. “Juliette would be overcome with delight.”
“A forced marriage, even one done for protection, isn’t what I want, Your Grace,” she said, trying to ignore the tendrils of warmth creeping up her arms as the Duke of Beaufort rubbed his thumbs across the back of her hands. “And neither do you. It will lead to resentment.”
“Then what, precisely,” he rumbled, removing the chaste distance between them, “do you desire?”
“To be free of the whispered judgments that plague my every move.” Her voice catching, she twisted away and stared at the fireplace.
Hooking his finger under her chin, he drew her face back. “There are no critics in my bedchamber.”
“Your solution is that I hide in here?”
A wolfish grin appeared on his face. “I’m not averse to the suggestion.”
“I—”
“Swear that you won’t make any arrangements until after your sister’s vows are completed,” he said, brushing his thumb along her lower lip. “And I swear to assist you with securing a governess position in whatever part of the country you choose.”
Winifred shivered, unable to break free of the spell cast by his mesmeric green eyes.
“I’ll agree to your terms,” she whispered, “if you also swear not to share one whit of what I’ve revealed this evening.”
“A second term?” he murmured, cupping her face and leaning in until his mouth was less than a millimeter from hers. “How do you propose to balance this additional demand?”
“I swear not to share the magnitude of your musical talent with your friends.”
“Done.” His mouth captured hers, cutting off her next sentence, and his arms embraced her, molding her body against his.
His fingers slid up the back of her muslin dress, grasped hold of one of the ties, and slowly pulled the string, loosening Winifred’s bodice. Reaching down, his hands curled around the delicate material, and he drew the garment over her head, breaking their kiss.
“Physical contact isn’t part of our agreement,” he murmured, his lips trailing over her collarbone. “You may stop this at any time, Miss Fernsby-Webb.”
“Winifred,” she gasped as he nipped at the sensitive skin. “If we’re going to continue in this manner, you should at least know my name.”
