Again, if the second explanation were true, why hadn’t Alden confronted the man when he’d appeared, demanding to know what he was about?
Mr. Forsythe had followed them into the tomb to help free Harvey, though he hadn’t been able to get close to the dog. He’d also announced that Alden’s uncouth friends had arrived, and took Alden’s suggestion to convey Clara away from them.
Though, if Clara thought it through, Alden had never actually spoken to Mr. Forsythe that day, or answered him. She had assumed Alden had seen and heard him, but thinking back, he hadn’t directly addressed the man or even looked at him.
The third explanation, that she’d seen and spoken to Mr. Forsythe’s ghost, was absolute nonsense. Mr. Forsythe had been very alive, amazingly so, and besides, spirits were only supposed to float about at night.
Also, Harvey had seen him. Clara was certain of that.
No, she’d spoken to the true Mr. Forsythe or someone purporting to be him. She must have done.
Alden strode along the path, muddy from the previous days’ rains, and tugged Clara to a halt in front of a grave marker. It was marble and rectangular, with a plain stone cross perched on top.
Its inscription read:Piers James Forsythe, 1819-1849. Beloved brother and friend.
“I wish it were otherwise,” Alden said. “But here he is.”
Clara stared down at the grave, her heart squeezing. Regardless of whom she’d met, Alden mourned the man who lay beneath this marker.
“Brother?” she asked softly.
Alden nodded. “His sister, Ellen, and I put up the stone. I was afraid she would blame me, but she does not. Puts the guilt squarely on Forsythe and Benton for deciding a duel was the best way to settle their differences, in this day and age. We all thought they’d delope—shoot into the air. But they didn’t.”
Clara leaned closer to him, hand around his forearm. “I am so very sorry, Alden. I did not mean to distress you.”
“I didn’t realize you hadn’t heard the tale. I thought everyone knew it. I never wanted to speak of it to you because… you gave me so much hope. So much strength. I didn’t want to break the happiness I finally was feeling.”
She rubbed his coat sleeve. “Please, speak to me all you like of him,” she said softly. “I will be glad to listen.”
Alden leaned to her, his warmth cutting the chill of the night, and brushed a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you, Clara.”
“I love you too, Alden.”
Clara’s heart was full. Alden’s next kiss held fire and promise. It made her regret that May was so far away.
At their feet, Harvey came alert. As Alden and Clara eased from each other, Harvey’s nose twitched, his gaze searching the darkness. Then, with a sudden jolt, he rushed off into the brush.
“Damnation,” Alden growled. “Not again.”
“I see him,” Clara said. Harvey had stopped on the other side of the hedge that separated these grave markers from ones beyond. “I’ll fetch him. You stay and pay your respects.”
She knew Alden would try to argue with her, so she simply hurried away, making her way around the hedges instead of plunging through them as Harvey had. He’d need a thorough brushing to take out whatever leaves and twigs tangled in his coat.
“You oughtn’t worry Alden like that,” she told the dog when she reached him. “He becomes cross as a bear when he’s worried.”
“He does, at that.”
He stepped out of the shadows, as impeccably dressed as before, his tall hat glistening with the clinging mists. Mr. Forsythe tipped said hat and gazed at Clara with his good-humored brown eyes, a smile of self-deprecation hovering about this mouth.
Clara’s temper splintered. She rushed at him, fists balled at her side. Harvey rushed with her, growling up at Mr. Forsythe, echoing her rage.
“Mr. Forsythe, you are not to be believed. How could you?”
Mr. Forsythe’s brows rose. “Beg pardon? How could I what?”
“Pretend that you were killed. Alden is grief-stricken. If you had to escape from creditors—or whatever your reasoning—could you not tell him? In any case, you can put him out of his misery, at once.” She held out her hand. “Come, we will tell him, together.”
Mr. Forsythe retreated a step. “That I cannot do, good lady.”
