But… “Could a dog get trapped in one?”
The duke glanced out the window and clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ve heard stories of an entire ox being swallowed by one.”
“Well, that is not at all reassuring.”
He turned and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Perhaps, then, you ought to write to your sister and her governess to warn them yourself.”
Collette nodded, withdrawing a blank sheet of parchment intent on jotting down the most pertinent information. “An excellent idea. What would you suggest I tell them? In case her governess is ignorant—of bogs—that is.”
“They should ask the locals where they are likely to be.” He pointed at her paper, apparently resigned to this conversation now. “Bogs are more likely to form in lowlands, and more so after a wet summer, or plentiful rains but not always. And they aren’t visible, they appear as normal grasslands but have transformed into what can mostly be described as something of a giant sponge. Most are only a few feet deep—“
“Excepting the ones that eat cattle.”
“Excepting those.” The duke rubbed his chin. “Best to remind your sister and her governess to stay to the roads until they are familiar with the land. Even then...”
“The bog you were trapped in—was it near your home?”
“It was. I’d been instructed, of course, in no uncertain terms to avoid the west valley. But my brother, Rowan, and a few of the local lads had run off in that direction.” Melancholy flickered in his expression before he banked his emotions again.
“And you couldn’t help but follow them.”
“Precisely.” He turned to stare out the window.
Collette tilted her head, guessing at the details he’d not disclosed to her.
He would have followed the group of boys because he loved his older brother and wanted to be included. Did Rowan feel the same toward his younger sibling or did he resent him for usurping him as the heir?
“When I began sinking, I ought to have turned back. But the mud seemed to only be a few inches deep.”
Collette folded her hands beneath her chin, picturing him as a small boy. She had no doubt that he would have been quite beautiful. As a duke’s heir, he would have been dressed in tailored little breeches and his shoes would always be shined. His hair had likely been lighter then, possibly almost white, and those magnificent icy eyes would have been large in his face, inquisitive and...
He would have been a proud and stubborn child.
“But you did not turn back,” she interjected.
After a quick glance around the empty classroom, he pointed to a nearby chair. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. This is all quite helpful.” She dipped her pen into her ink but wasn’t really writing any of this down, she would do that later. “You very well might be saving my sister’s life by assisting me.”And you are feeding my curiosity.“Do continue.”
“If a person finds themself on unstable ground, it’s imperative that they turn back rather than assume it to be passable.”
“What did you do?”
He winced, shaking his head. “I ran faster. Which only managed to take me deeper into the bog, putting more space between myself and safety.”
“And from help,” she added. “Did anyone know where you were going?”
“Much to my regret, no. At first, sinking was a simple annoyance, something to slow my progress. By the time I realized I was in danger of getting caught, I was—”
“Caught,” she finished with him.
“Up to my waist.” Seated now, he seemed slightly more relaxed than while he’d been standing.
“You couldn’t get out.”
“Much to my chagrin. And instead of remaining still and calm, as I ought to have, I struggled against it. By the time I was too tired to move anymore, I could barely keep my arms out. And darkness was falling.”
The picture he painted was a terrifying one. She hadn’t realized that her hand had come up to cover her mouth until she spoke. “Tell me someone found you before nightfall.”
