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“There is evidence to suggest that the late Baron of Filminster was murdered to conceal knowledge of your rightful heir.”

“What?” John straightened up in surprise, then an expression of horror crossed his pallid face. “Are you … accusing one of us?”

The duke looked at Simon. This meeting had ventured into territory that was wholly inappropriate.

“We would like to know where you were the night of the coronation, Mr. Scott. At around midnight.”

Simon’s jaw dropped in amazement. They were here to accuse him of a heinous crime! It was beyond the pale! He would set them to rights so they could take their condescension and barbed indictments to be on their way.

Smiling with smug satisfaction, he declared, “Of course. I was in the walled garden with⁠—”

Simon shut his mouth, realizing too late the trap he was in. Their families might be aware that he had been alone with Madeline on countless occasions, but he could not state such a fact to hostile opponents without them inferring the worst possible.

They would conclude Madeline was his mistress!

He would ruin his dearest friend because the caper-witted denizens of the upper classes would never accept a public friendship between a common tradeswoman and the son of a baron. There was no possibility he would ever risk her reputation. Madeline might not be of the gentry, but the Bigsbys were a well-respected family who relied on business from polite society. Such scandal could destroy them.

Simon licked his lips. “I was with⁠—”

The night Nicholas had fallen from his window had been the worst experience of his life, but if he dragged Madeline into his muddle, it would rival that event, so he scrambled for an alternate alibi … and reached the awful conclusion that he would have to refuse to provide one. Which meant this accusation could expand into an official investigation. Had the duke not mentioned the Home Office?

“He was with me. We drank wine in the moonlight in our walled garden to celebrate the ceremony, although the moon was waning so visibility was compromised. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful night.”

All heads spun to the open door where his mother was framed, and Simon could have wept with relief at her intervention. Isla must have realized his conundrum after he had announced where he had been, guessing that Madeline was the alibi that had caused him to falter.

With deep gratitude, Simon agreed. “I was … with my mother, Lady Blackwood.”