Seduced by the Duke Who Stole Her

Prologue

Thunder rolled over London, rattling the tall windows of Ravenfield Manor House.

Pierce Sterling, Duke of Ravenfield, stood behind his desk with his broad shoulders rigid beneath his dark coat, reviewing correspondence with the severe concentration he brought to everything.

At twenty-five, he had already developed a reputation for being a man who expected order, obedience, and precision, and his household rarely dared test the limits of his patience.

His black hair was slightly disheveled from the damp air, and the contrast of having one blue eye and one green eye made his expression seem even more forbidding as he read the final letter.

He heard the study door open and looked up, expecting a servant, but instead found his wife Augusta standing upon the threshold.

She looked as though she had been crying for hours, her face streaked with tears and her pale features strained with exhaustion. One hand rested protectively against her belly, and Pierce immediately noticed the gesture before she spoke.

"Pierce," Augusta whispered, her voice trembling as she entered the room, "I am with child."

For several seconds, he could only stare at her, the words settling into his mind with a force he had not anticipated.

Their marriage had been one of convenience, arranged because it had suited them both, and though he had never pretended that he loved her, the sudden knowledge that she carried his child filled him with a profound and unexpected happiness.

"A child?" he asked quietly, rising from his chair as something almost warm entered his usually guarded expression.

Augusta nodded, tears gathering in her eyes again, and Pierce felt a strange sensation in his chest as he imagined a small child growing within her, his son or daughter carrying his name and one day running through these silent halls.

He had never allowed himself to think seriously about fatherhood, but now that the possibility had become real, he wanted it with an intensity that surprised him.

"This is wonderful news, Augusta," he said, moving towards her carefully, as though any sudden movement might frighten her, "and you need not be afraid. Whatever happens, you and the child shall be cared for."

Yet instead of reassuring her, his words seemed to make her expression crumble.

"I cannot raise this baby with you," she said, pressing her trembling hand more firmly against her stomach.

Pierce stopped several feet away from her, his instincts immediately sharpening as he studied her tearful face.

He knew her mind was not well; there had been signs before, moments of confusion, fear, and despair that the doctor could not always explain, and he had tried to give her space because he had not known what else to do.

But now, with his unborn child involved, he could not simply step aside and allow her distress to dictate what happened next.

"Augusta, listen to me," he said calmly, keeping his voice low and controlled, "you are frightened, and I understand that, but you must not make a decision while you are suffering. Let the doctor…"

She shook her head. "You do not understand. I cannot do this. I cannot be your wife and a mother. I cannot remain here."

Pierce felt a cold fear settle beneath his ribs, though his face remained composed, because he had begun to wonder whether she might hurt herself or, in a moment of despair, the innocent child she carried.

"Then you need not remain my wife," he told her, choosing each word carefully, "and I will not force you to be. When the baby is born, if you still wish to leave me, you shall be free to do so."

Augusta stared at him uncertainly, and Pierce continued, "But do not punish this child for something neither of you has done. Let me protect you until the birth. I will provide everything you require, and you shall want for nothing."

"I do not believe you," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Pierce swallowed the frustration rising within him and deliberately softened his voice.

"You need not believe me today," he replied, taking another cautious step, "but you may trust what I do.

I shall not demand your affection, your obedience, or anything else beyond allowing me to keep you and our child safe. "

He paused, then added with quiet certainty, "All will be well, Augusta. I shall take care of you." Something in his words finally reached her, and after a long silence she gave a faint nod.

"All right," she murmured.

Pierce released a breath he had not realized he was holding, and for the first time since she had entered his study, he allowed himself to believe that the danger had passed.

"Good," he said gently, taking her hand for a moment before releasing it, "then you shall rest, and tomorrow we shall speak again. There is no need to decide anything else tonight."

He watched her leave the study, his expression becoming somber once the door closed behind her.

* * *

The following morning, Pierce went directly to Augusta's chambers after breakfast, intending to ensure she had slept.

He opened the door and stopped immediately because the room was empty, the bed untouched, and the silence was wrong. His gaze swept across the chamber, taking in the wardrobe with its open doors, the empty dressing table, and the shelves where her personal belongings had once stood.

"Everything is gone." Pierce crossed the room swiftly, opening drawers and cupboards as a growing sense of dread tightened his chest, until he understood that Augusta had not merely left the room.

She has left Ravenfield Manor.

Pierce stood motionless for one terrible moment, his mismatched eyes fixed upon the empty wardrobe, before his expression hardened into something cold and resolute.

"Find Augusta," he ordered when the first servant appeared at the doorway, his voice carrying through the corridor with unmistakable authority. "Search every road, every inn, every house where she might have gone, and do not return until you have answers."

Augusta is carrying my child, and she is somewhere beyond my protection.