Chapter 6
Pierce watched Margaret in silence, allowing the implications of her last words to settle between them. She had not quite said yes, not in the manner a sensible woman might have accepted a proposal, but he knew her well enough already to understand what she was doing.
She is measuring the escape route, weighing the danger of Harrowby against the uncertainties of Ravenfield, and preparing herself to make the choice she believes least likely to destroy her.
A faint, knowing smirk touched Pierce's mouth.
She is going to say yes.
"So I think you should simply accept," he said, folding his arms across his chest, "because your grand plan to ruin yourself would never have worked anyway."
Margaret's eyes narrowed. "If I had more time, it would have."
Pierce raised an eyebrow. "Would it?"
"Certainly."
"You seem very confident," he said.
"I am," she lifted her chin.
He studied her for a moment, increasingly amused by the determined little fire in her expression. "Then show me."
Margaret blinked. "What?"
"Show me how you intended to accomplish it."
Her mouth fell open slightly. Pierce knew immediately that he had provoked her, and he had done so deliberately. She had spent the entire conversation speaking of her boldness, and he had a sudden desire to discover precisely how far her courage extended when challenged.
"You are always doing that," she muttered.
"Doing what?"
"Looking at me as though I am a foolish child," she said.
"I have never thought you a child," he said as he looked her up and down. "You are far from it."
Her cheeks grew flush. "Perhaps not," she said, "but you certainly behave as though I am incapable of knowing what I am doing."
Pierce's amusement faded into curiosity as she stepped closer. Margaret hesitated for only a heartbeat before rising onto her toes and pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
"There," she said.
Pierce went completely still.
The kiss had lasted scarcely a second, yet the effect upon him was immediate.
His eyes darkened as he stared down at her, and every trace of amusement vanished from his expression.
He had expected boldness, but he had not expected the soft warmth of her mouth or the astonishing willingness with which she had offered it.
A fierce surge of desire moved through him, startling in its intensity.
He had spent the past year indulging every appetite that might distract him from grief, yet this was different.
Margaret's audacity had awakened something far more dangerous because she was not merely available; she was defiant, spirited, and entirely capable of walking away from him.
"That does not count," he said, his voice lower than before. "It was merely a peck."
Margaret's eyes widened. "It was precisely what I intended."
"No," Pierce replied, stepping closer. "It was what you thought a scandalous kiss should be."
"And you know better?" she asked.
"I do, of course I do," his voice was thick with lust.
Before she could reply, he caught her gently by the waist and drew her towards him.
His mouth met hers with a certainty that left no room for another clever retort.
The kiss was deeper than the one she had given him, passionate without being careless, and Pierce felt the last of his restraint begin to fracture beneath the simple sensation of holding her close.
His trousers tightened across his thighs as his manhood stirred to life.
Margaret's hands settled against his chest, and the warmth of her palms seemed to travel straight through his coat.
Pierce's thoughts narrowed until there was nothing but her, the softness of her mouth, the quiet sound of her breath, the way she seemed to forget her argument in favour of simply remaining where she was.
He had intended to teach her a lesson, to demonstrate precisely what she had failed to understand, but he quickly realized that he was the one in danger of forgetting the boundaries he had established.
I will take her right now. She is to be mine anyway.
When a soft sound escaped her, Pierce felt desire surge through him again. He tightened his hold for one dangerous instant before reason finally prevailed.
If I continue, I know I will want more than a kiss, and I refuse to allow myself to lose control in her father's library.
He drew back abruptly, breathing harder than he cared to admit.
Margaret looked up at him, equally breathless, her cheeks flushed.
"There will be no more lessons," she declared, though her voice lacked some of its usual certainty. "No more kisses. I require no instruction."
Pierce almost smiled. "As you wish."
"This is a practical arrangement," she continued, attempting to regain her composure. "And it will mean nothing if you cannot make Harrowby abandon his claim."
Pierce's expression became cold and assured again. "That," he said, "I can do."
Margaret watched him carefully.
"And once it is settled," Pierce continued, "you will be my duchess."
She lifted her chin. "My duchess?"
"My wife," he corrected, his gaze holding hers. "And you should remember something, Margaret. I make the rules at Ravenfield."
Her eyes flashed. "You have a great deal of confidence for a man who has just been told there will be no more lessons."
A faint smile returned to his mouth. "You will learn."
With that, Pierce turned and walked from the library before he could be tempted to remain.
The carriage was waiting outside, and he climbed inside, shutting the door firmly behind him. As the horses began to move through the London streets, he leaned back against the seat and stared through the window without truly seeing anything. His mind remained fixed upon Margaret.
He had intended to find a mother for Hugh. He had intended to make a practical arrangement. He had intended to avoid love, desire, and every complication that accompanied them.
Yet now he could still feel the warmth of her against him, still remember the startled expression in her eyes when he kissed her, and still hear the breath she had drawn against his mouth.
Pierce exhaled slowly. "The wedding would have to be arranged quickly."
Because if he was already struggling to keep his hands off Margaret before they were married, he suspected the wedding night would test every ounce of restraint he possessed.
* * *
The following morning, Pierce entered the nursery and found Mrs. Norris standing beside the cradle with Hugh in her arms. The room had been transformed almost overnight, because Pierce had ordered the servants to prepare it the moment he discovered the child was alive.
Pale blue curtains framed the tall windows, a small fire burned in the grate, and a small bed sat in the corner.
Mrs Norris looked up as Pierce entered and smiled.
"Good morning, Your Grace," she said, shifting the baby comfortably against her shoulder. "His Grace the Younger has been awake for nearly an hour, and I assure you he has very definite opinions about breakfast. He has loved the apple slices the most."
Pierce approached and held out his arms. "Give him to me."
Mrs Norris raised an eyebrow but obediently transferred Hugh into his father's embrace.
Pierce adjusted the child awkwardly until Hugh settled against his chest, staring up at him with those extraordinary mismatched eyes.
The sight still unsettled him. One green eye and one blue, exactly like his own, staring back from a face that should not have existed according to everything Pierce had been told.
"Where have you been?" he asked quietly, looking down at him. "Who kept you safe after your mother disappeared?"
Hugh merely blinked.
Pierce frowned at the silence. "That was not very helpful."
Mrs Norris suppressed a smile behind her hand. "He is rather young for an interrogation, Your Grace."
Pierce glanced towards her. "I am aware of that."
He looked back at the child. "Nevertheless, he could make an effort."
Hugh responded by grabbing hold of Pierce's cravat and pulling it with surprising strength. Pierce stared at the tiny hand. "Apparently, he has decided the interrogation is over."
Mrs Norris laughed softly, and Pierce found himself almost smiling.
The amusement faded as quickly as it had appeared. Pierce looked down at his son and felt a weight settle inside him that no amount of wealth or authority could remove.
He had spent his life solving problems. This was what he was good at: finding the source of a difficulty, identifying the necessary action, and ensuring the matter was resolved.
Yet Hugh presented him with a problem he could not solve simply by issuing orders.
Pierce did not know who had cared for the boy, where he had lived, or why Augusta had allowed him to remain hidden for so long.
Worse, I do not know how to comfort him when he begins to cry.
As though summoned by the thought, Hugh made a small unhappy sound and wriggled against his father's chest.
Pierce stiffened. "What is wrong?" he asked, looking genuinely perplexed.
Hugh's face crumpled. A moment later, he began to cry.
Pierce glanced helplessly towards Mrs Norris. "He was perfectly content a moment ago."
"Babies are unpredictable creatures," she said with great dignity. "You may discover, Your Grace, that they do not respond particularly well to military discipline."
Pierce frowned at the child. "I have no intention of applying military discipline to him."
Mrs Norris's expression suggested that she was reserving judgement.
Pierce tried rocking Hugh gently, but his efforts were stiff and uncertain. "There," he murmured. "There is no cause for distress."
Hugh cried louder. Pierce looked increasingly offended by the child's refusal to be reasonable. "I am attempting to reassure you."
Mrs Norris cleared her throat. "Perhaps he requires a softer tone."
Pierce looked at her. "I am speaking softly."
"For you, Your Grace," she replied. "Perhaps not for an infant."
Pierce sighed and tried again, lowering his voice until Hugh's crying gradually weakened.