Page 115 of His Duchess' Mischief

Hurriedly, she rushed to the washbasin, ringing the bell for hot water and cloths. Moments later, the butler rushed into the room, having gathered what was needed, and placed everything on a side table for her to reach easily.

At his quiet inquiry, she told him she could deal with things for now, and he left the room. Then, they were alone.

She unfolded the linen and soaked it in hot water. Approaching the bed, Alicia dragged a chair across the floor so that she could perch on it and clean Seth’s arm more easily.

He seemed to be in a daze, unmoving and silent as she pulled at his coat.

“Christ, woman, that hurts,” he said, glaring at her as she pulled it forcefully down his arms.

“Well then, help me to relieve you of your shirt, or I shall cut it away myself.”

Seth reluctantly pulled his shirt over his head with his good arm, and Alicia discarded the bloodied thing onto the floor.

He stared at it in disbelief, his eyes glazing over as Alicia tried not to be distracted by the exquisite, chiseled body on display.

“He could have killed you,” he whispered, his hand skimming over her neck. “You are bleeding.”

She gently pushed him away. “It is just a scratch. Let me see to you.”

Wiping away the blood on his arm, Alicia was relieved to see that the flow was ebbing. His hands and forearm were still stained with it, however, and it took her several minutes to clean them.

“Thank you,” he murmured as she wrung out the final cloth and pulled out a length of gauze to cover the wound, wrapping it around a wad of fabric to stop it from seeping through.

“I hope you are feeling better now,” she said.

Seth nodded, the same lethargy about him as he stared at her neck, his mouth working around words he seemed unable to say.

“You should rest,” she urged, standing up and gathering the soiled linen around him.

Alicia turned but was stopped once more by a hand around her wrist, and this time, he gripped her painfully tight.

“You will make it bleed again,” she admonished.

“I do not care about my wound,” he said thickly.

The intense yearning in his eyes made her stomach flutter, and she clenched the cloths between her fingers, unsure how to interpret the heat radiating from him.

Does he simply want a maid to nurse him? Or does he wish to have his wife by his side?

“It has been a long day, and I am tired,” she murmured. “We should both get some sleep. Call for me if you need me.”

He did not release her as he rose, tugging her toward him.

“Do you not realize what this means, Alicia? It is over. I have finally had the vengeance I sought all these years. Gordon’s death has been avenged, and we have found the person responsible. After over a decade of waiting, it can finally be put to bed.”

Alicia looked up at him, a desire to revel in the joy on his face burning within her. But the sadness in her heart prevented it from taking flight.

“I am happy for you,” she said gently, trying to pull away from his grip. “And I am glad that you have found out what happened to your friend. But I am not sure I can support you any longer.”

Seth went still. “What do you mean?”

“I will always be by your side, as your wife. As the fantasy you imagine me to be. But I cannot be anything else. I am tired of waiting for you to see me as more than a convenience. Perhaps I should have accepted long ago that it was never meant to be.”

She made to leave, but his grip only tightened again.

Looking up at him, her heart stuttered at the despair and quiet need in his eyes.

“Alicia,” he whispered, “you have never been a convenience. Not since I first saw you in your wedding gown.”

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