Page 14 of His Duchess' Mischief

She was lying at an awkward angle from where he had lowered himself over her, and she pulled herself up into a seated position, fiddling with the folds of her dress.

He stood watching her, his hands behind his back, the sharp angles of his face illuminated by the light streaming through the high windows.

“I am glad we understand each other, My Lady. I would not wish to be at odds at the start of our marriage.”

Alicia could not speak, the enormity of what had just taken place consuming her. She did not look at him as he made a little derisive sound in the back of his throat and left the room.

As soon as the door closed behind him, she collapsed back in the chair, drawing in deep, gulping breaths.

He is master of all he surveys in this place, and I am no more than his prisoner.

CHAPTER 5

Seth left the room, his heart thudding, his hands twisting angrily at his back. He could not remember ever being so furious; the depth of his anger surprised him.

Why does it matter what the chit thinks? She is hardly worthy of my time.

Walking down the steps toward the entrance hall, he glanced at the servants, who scurried away as he approached.

The whole staff seemed to be on tenterhooks ahead of the wedding. He had even heard his housekeeper shouting at one of the maids that morning, which was unusual.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, his fingers pulled at his sleeve again, his gut churning unpleasantly.

Am I nervous? Impossible!

He would do his duty as his father had commanded and marry Lady Alicia Holton as agreed. What he had said to her was true—they would live separate lives, and he would see as little of her as possible.

Perhaps they would have to come together to produce an heir—that was the point of marriage, after all—but other than that, she would be free to do as she wished.

Standing in the silent hallway, he listened to the clinking of cutlery below stairs and the gentle murmur of voices.

He drew in a long breath as he clutched his sleeve again, wishing he could walk into the church and see Gordon standing at the head of the aisle as his groomsman.

There was no doubt in his mind that his best friend would have been with him today. Gordon had always been a gentle man. Practical and forthright, but kind. He would doubtless be appalled by what Seth had said to his intended.

“But you are not here,” Seth muttered under his breath. “Damn you to hell.”

Pain—ruthless, familiar pain—lanced through his chest, and he rubbed at it absently, his heart aching. In his mind’s eye, Gordon’s face appeared, distorted by time, his soft smile only a memory.

Have I remembered it correctly? Am I beginning to forget his face?

The last time he ever saw it was in the moonlight, lifeless and cold.

A door opened nearby with a sharp click, and he quickly strode out of the front door, not wanting to be caught dithering by the butler.

A duke must be decisive in all things, even on his wedding day.

His feet crunched over the gravel as he left the house, and he turned left toward the small church where the ceremony would take place.

Doubtless, Lucas, Michael, and Isaac would be there today. He knew they would be; he had sent the invitations.

Yet the prospect of seeing his friends from Eton held no joy for him. He wished they were not there, that he could ignore them and spend his time in solitude as he had done until now.

The sight of them only made Gordon’s absence all the more painful. He hated the thought that they were all living their lives as normal when his best friend’s existence had been so cruelly cut short.

What happened to him?

It was a question that had plagued Seth ever since he had seen that puddle of blood on the ground. Gordon’s wide, lifeless eyes would haunt him until his last breath.

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