“I imagine it’s been the furthest thing from his mind, but has Everett had his eye on anyone this season?” she asked. It was similar to the question she’d asked at tea, though this time Eliza sported a scowl so remarkably well practiced that Blythe couldn’t feel that bad for being on the receiving end of it. It was rude to gossip, especially in such company, but Blythe didn’t care what Aris thought. If anything, he looked as curious as Blythe.
“Please, don’t stop the conversation on my account.” So coy was the prince’s smile that even Blythe blushed. He looked every bit a natural atop his mount, seated perfectly straight and all too comfortable as he lorded above them. “I wouldn’t want to step on any toes.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Eliza acknowledged graciously. “On the contrary, finding a wife is very much a focus of my cousin’s. With my uncle gone, an heir is more important now than ever.” There was a grimace in her words, and Blythe had no choice but to push.
“Has Everett found someone?” she asked, praying for something—anything—that might help her father.
“There was almost a contender once, but my uncle did not approve the proposal. Everett was heartbroken; it took him a while before he was ready to resume courting. He seems happier now, though, so I imagine there must be someone.”
Blythe fisted the reins so tight that her leather gloves gave a squeak of protest. Charlotte. That’s what Diana had meant when she asked if Charlotte was still circling Everett.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Blythe said, trying to sound nonchalant even as her mind raced and her blood pulsed a manic rhythm in her ears. “Surely that must have been a while ago that he wanted to propose? I don’t remember him courting anyone other than Signa.” At this, Blythe couldn’t help but notice that Aris’s frown grew severe.
“Signa was my uncle’s choice for him,” Eliza said with a wave of her hand. “She has a fortune behind her. Everett liked her well enough to entertain his father, though Signa never showed an interest and Everett developed new desires.”
Aris’s frown smoothed. Blythe, however, was trying her best to quell her churning stomach.
She was perhaps one of the only ones who knew that Everett and Charlotte were still together. She had seen their happy glances, had seen the way they kissed with the excitement of young lovers.
The duke had forbidden Everett to marry Charlotte. And if he’d gone back to her as soon as the duke died…
Blythe could think of no better motive for murder.
She kept her mouth clamped shut and her focus pinpointed on the back of her mount’s neck. If she dared to speak now, the words that slipped out would cause more trouble than they were worth.
So lost in her thoughts was she that Blythe barely heard Aris as he asked, “Are you well, Miss Wakefield?”
She stole a look just in time to see that Eliza’s skin had gone pale, and she was swaying atop her mount.
“Forgive me, Your Highness.” Eliza was as brisk as Blythe had ever heard her, and when she tried to smile her reassurance, it only made Eliza look even more ill. “I believe I’ve left something important back at the manor.”
“Would you like us to accompany you?” Blythe asked, having to reel her focus back in as Eliza turned a faint shade of green.
If a look could kill, Eliza’s would have had her in the grave within the second. “That’s not necessary. I’ve held you hostage long enough as it is. Go and catch up with the others—I’ll find you both as soon as I’m able.”
Eliza snapped the reins, taking off in the direction they’d come from. Though Prince Aris should have ignored Eliza and accompanied her to safety, His Highness seemed content watching her race back toward the estate. His glinting eyes caught the rising sun, and for a moment they were so rich a gold that Blythe nearly scoffed. A beast as foul as him had no right to be handsome.
It was then that she realized just how quiet the forest had become. Though she’d seen Everett and his men in the distance only moments before, there was nothing of their red coats now. She could barely hear the hounds, either, and with a dawning horror realized the situation she’d gotten herself into.
All she wanted was to race back to Thorn Grove to figure out her next steps. She wished at once that Signa was still there to help her concoct a plan now that she suspected Everett. Yet she forced such thoughts from her mind as she instead found herself alone with Aris, unattended in the middle of the woods. One wrong rumor and she’d be as good as useless at helping free her father from prison. The last thing she needed was anyone suspecting she’d seduced the prince into speaking on his behalf.
“We ought to get back to the others,” she urged, nudging her horse forward. “Anyone who sees us out here might think—”
“Be quiet.” Aris slipped from his horse and tossed the reins to Blythe. She barely managed to catch them before they smacked her in the face. She very well almost throttled him with them before he whispered, “Something’s nearby.” Each of his steps was precise, trying to make as little noise as possible.
“You’re probably hearing the hounds.” Blythe scanned the forest for any hint of prying eyes. “We need to get back. There are things I have to take care of.…”
“Stop your muttering and listen.”
She had half a mind to ignore his request and to take off with his own steed in tow, convinced he was toying with her. Yet Blythe gave him a single, begrudging chance, shut her eyes, and listened.
She heard the songs of the forest. A symphony of insect wings and chirping birds. The steady rhythm of a woodpecker high above, beating on the trees. A fluttering of the branches as birds flitted between them.
And somewhere beneath it all a quiet, chittering whine.
Blythe’s eyes flew open. “What is that?”
Aris held out his hand, silencing her as he crouched and crept toward the direction of the noise. So deep into a thicket of trees did he venture that she nearly lost sight of him. Her horse blew a snort, as if sensing Blythe’s unease and wanting no part of it. When the reservoir of her patience ran dry and she could no longer quell her curiosity, Blythe slid from the saddle and tied both horses to the sturdiest nearby branch.
She should have followed Eliza back to the manor. She should have used her illness as an excuse to try to speak with the staff and pry for more information about Everett. Instead, she was trotting after a prince through the woods, fully aware of what this would look like should anyone find them. She tried to be as mindful of her steps as he’d been, though, given the vast number of scattered twigs and bramble littering the ground, it was a more difficult task than she gave him credit for. She hiked her skirts to her knees, breathless and flushed with the effort by the time she found him several minutes later.
The last thing she expected to see was the prince on hands and knees in the dirt, his backside in the air as he reached into a tiny hole in the base of a tree.
“Brace me,” Aris demanded.
Blythe flushed from head to neck. “I beg your pardon?”
“Believe me, love, if I was aiming to seduce you then you’d know it. Brace me so I can get hold of whatever’s in there.”
She opened her mouth, then pressed it shut with a huff. Checking once more that no one was near, Blythe moved behind him to settle her hands on his hips. Even if Aris himself appeared to have no shame, Blythe tried to keep her gaze averted from the trousers that fit around his thighs frustratingly well.
Aris grunted and dug around inside for a moment longer before he started to lean up, relying on her help to properly straighten. Only then did Blythe see the source of the noise—a tiny black fox, hardly even a kit. He held it out by the scruff, looking the poor creature over.
“There’s blood on the ground,” he said. “I’m surprised it managed to avoid the hounds.”
Blythe’s throat went tight. She had half a mind to push Aris aside and snatch the poor thing away from him, though what she’d do beyond that was a mystery. It wasn’t as though she could take the creature back to Thorn Grove. Perhaps that would have been possible were her father still there, but Byron would have it thrown back into the forest the moment he saw it.