Page 88 of His Duchess' Mischief

But now that he was finally speaking about his past, she was desperate to hear more.

She itched to ask for more and had to keep herself from pushing. She simply waited for him to continue.

“We went to search for him, all four of us. I thought he was drunk, lost—all the things he usually was. But when we went into the gardens, it did not take me long before I saw him. He was lying in the moonlight, quite still.”

His throat convulsed as he swallowed, rubbing his hands against his thighs, and Alicia slowly moved her own to interlace their fingers. Seth gripped them so hard that she winced.

“I did not know what nightmare had begun, just that I had lost my friend. But we were all accused. The headmaster, the provost, our friends—people I had known all my life suspected I had hurt him. Young boys in the night—no one believed our story.”

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair as he stood up and began to pace.

“The trial was awful. All we had was each other becausenobodybelieved us. Gordon’s father was devastated, furious. He was not a man to cross, and he believed we were guilty, demanding that justice be delivered. But in the end, we were each other’s alibis—no other proof existed. It still doesn’t.”

“Well then, why has the rumors continued?”

Seth threw his hands up in the air. “The ton loves a scandal. The fact that Fern was injured in the back of the head suggested foul play, but no culprit was found.”

“What do you think happened to him?”

“I do notknow!” he huffed. “I have been willing to let it lie for years, but I cannot do so any longer. Imustfind out the truth.”

Alicia watched him pace back and forth along the lakeside.

“Why now?” she finally asked.

He stopped, turning to her, the look on his face difficult to decipher.

“It is just time that it was laid to rest,” he said, his eyes darting away, a muscle ticking beneath his eye.

Alicia watched him thoughtfully, wondering if that was the truth.

“Come and sit down,” she said pleadingly. “You are making me dizzy with your pacing.”

Seth seemed reluctant, but after a pause, he came to sit beside her.

“I am sorry,” she murmured. “I believed the rumors myself before I knew you.”

There was a long silence.

“And now?” Seth asked.

He sounded uncertain, and he did not turn to look at her.

“We may not have known each other for long, but you are no killer. Hearing you speak about him… I can tell how much he meant to you.”

Seth looked down, tugging at a loose thread on his breeches, awkward and withdrawn suddenly.

“Can you tell me something good about Lord Fernside?” Alicia asked. “I imagine you have been wallowing in sadness for so long.”

Seth said nothing, plucking at the thread.

“I lost my mother when I was young,” she continued. “I do not recall a great deal about her, but I remember she would hum the same tune over and over. I never knew what tune it was—perhaps I never will—but when I think of her, I try to focus on that happy melody, not the sadness in my heart.”

After another few minutes of silence, Seth finally began to speak.

“I met Gordon when we were fifteen. He intervened when a bigger boy wanted to knock me down in the courtyard.”

“Biggerthan you?” Alicia asked skeptically.

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