Page 74 of Never Beguile a Duke
Setting down the tome, she accepted the decanter, tipped the bottle, swallowing a large mouthful of alcohol, and coughed.
“Business?” she asked, her eyes watering.
“I suppose one could qualify it as that.” His bleary gaze shifted to the shadows at the base of the staircase. “Why are you awake at this hour?”
She took a second swig, then exhaled a deep breath and blurted out, “I’ve decided to depart in the morning before the house wakes.”
No! She couldn’t leave.
He grasped at the only viable excuse that came to mind. “Your sister will be wounded by your sudden absence.”
“I cannot demand that you uninvite Mr. Hollingsworth simply because I don’t wish to interact with him.” She lifted the decanter again.
“You could…” He nudged her arm. “I happen to know your host doesn’t appreciate Mr. Hollingsworth’s company either.”
She chuckled. “Probably not due to the same reason.”
“It is the exact same reason.” Silas waved a finger in her direction and reclaimed the bottle. “He flung himself at my feet, too.”
Miss Fernsby-Webb’s jaw dropped. “Surely, he didn’t propose to you as well?”
“He asked me to intervene on his behalf; I refused.” Silas lifted the bottle to his lips but didn’t drink. “Have you funds or an offer of employment to assist with your escape?”
She grimaced and glanced down, fiddling with the lace on her shawl. “Including what I won this evening from your friends, I have a little over a grand.”
Issuing a low whistle, he set down the decanter. “Remind me not to set a wager against you.”
“That won’t be a difficulty in the future,” she replied, lifting her head and forcing a tight smile. “I intend to head toward the coast.”
“May I offer a different solution that wouldn’t upset your sister?” He took Miss Fernsby-Webb’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Juliette sacked her governess this morning. She believes, and I agree, that you would be better suited to the position.”
“Your suggestion doesn’t remove me from Mr. Hollingsworth’s presence,” Miss Fernsby-Webb replied, her face unreadable.
“I’ll send him away tomorrow.”
“You cannot?—”
“I can do whatever I wish. This is my home.” Silas leveled his gaze with her. “But I must know something first.”
“I don’t love him.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She pressed her lips together and gestured for him to continue.
“How did you know the man you were dancing with was Mr. Hollingsworth?”
Shuddering, Miss Fernsby-Webb drew her legs into her chest and wrapped her free arm around her knees. “By his scent. It reminded me of the prison. I couldn’t think of any male in attendance who had been recently released from jail, then I remembered your warning that you’d extended Mr. Hollingsworth an invitation.”
“If it were me, would you have known?” Silas asked, weaving his fingers through hers.
She smiled. “Immediately.”
“How?” He leaned closer, his eyes searching hers.
“Your cologne is quite unique,” she replied, her sweet breath brushing over his lips. “And…”
“And?” he murmured.
