Chapter 23
Pierce knocked upon the door of Nathaniel Vernon, Earl of Brydges, and was admitted almost immediately by a servant.
Nathaniel stood in the threshold to his study with a glass already in one hand, his dark brown hair untidy and his green eyes bright with the amusement that seemed to accompany him everywhere.
At twenty-six, as the second son of the Duke of Northton, Nathaniel had perfected the art of behaving as though responsibility were a personal insult.
"Ravenfield," he greeted, stepping aside. "You look as though someone has died."
Pierce removed his gloves with deliberate calm. "No one has died."
Nathaniel studied him. "Then someone must have disappointed you. That is usually worse."
Pierce ignored the remark and followed him into the study. Papers covered Nathaniel's desk, several books had been left open upon a side table, and a ledger sat before the fire with the unmistakable appearance of something Nathaniel had been avoiding.
Nathaniel poured Pierce a brandy before taking one for himself and dropped into a chair.
"There," he said, extending the glass. "Drink. You are far too grim for this hour."
Pierce accepted it and glanced towards the desk. "What are you working on?"
Nathaniel gave a dramatic sigh and gestured towards the accounts. "The tedious business of managing money. Apparently, because I am the second son, I am expected to understand where every blasted shilling goes. My elder brother is the heir. Surely he ought to be the one suffering through this."
Pierce settled into the opposite chair. "You are still a member of the family, Nathaniel. It is your duty to understand these matters."
Nathaniel stared at him. "You have become dreadfully fond of that word since marrying. Duty."
Pierce took a measured sip of brandy and refused to acknowledge how accurately the observation struck him.
Duty had always been his answer, his shield and, when necessary, his excuse.
It was far easier to say something was his duty than to admit he wanted it.
Yet lately, duty had become tangled with Margaret in ways he found increasingly inconvenient.
Nathaniel watched him over the rim of his glass, amusement slowly replacing his earlier irritation. "You are in a foul mood," he observed.
"I am not."
"You are."
"I am perfectly well."
Nathaniel leaned back with a grin. "Then Ravenfield House must have become a remarkably cheerful place."
Pierce gave him a cold look. "Everything is going perfectly at home."
"Ah," Nathaniel said knowingly. "So you are still testing the Duchess."
Pierce's mouth tightened. "There is nothing left to test."
Nathaniel raised his eyebrows. "Really?"
"Margaret has stopped provoking me," Pierce replied, swirling the brandy in his glass.
"She follows the revised household arrangements.
She does not challenge every instruction I give her, and she has shown considerable restraint regarding the rules surrounding our marriage.
" He paused, and an image of Margaret entered his mind with entirely unwelcome clarity.
"Therefore, I have no reason to give her any more lessons. "
Nathaniel's grin widened. "You sound disappointed."
Pierce looked at him. "I did not say that."
"You did not need to."
Pierce leaned back, scowling at the fire. "I would enjoy giving her a lesson."
Nathaniel laughed. "There he is."
The amusement faded somewhat when Nathaniel studied him more closely. "Margaret and Hugh seem to be taking up most of your time, despite your determination to solve the mystery surrounding your son."
Pierce's fingers tightened around the stem of his glass. "That is true."
He hated admitting it, particularly because the investigation remained unfinished. Every report he received seemed to lead towards another dead end. The carriage his men had traced after the masquerade had travelled south, but beyond that, there had been little to discover.
"The latest reports have given me nothing useful," he admitted. "The carriage was found, the driver questioned, and still there is no clear indication of where the woman went."
Nathaniel frowned. "And you believe she knows what happened to Augusta?"
"I know she may."
Nathaniel studied him for a long moment before saying, "Or you are simply allowing the investigation to consume you because it gives you something safer to think about than your wife."
Pierce's gaze hardened. "Margaret is also a distraction."
Nathaniel laughed softly. "I suspected as much."
"She occupies more of my thoughts than she ought," Pierce admitted, lowering his voice. "And Hugh occupies the rest."
There was no irritation in the admission concerning his son.
That surprised him. Hugh had once been an unanswered question, a source of fear and responsibility.
Now the boy's laughter could halt Pierce in the middle of a moody thought.
Worse, he had begun to look forward to seeing Margaret with him.
Nathaniel set his glass aside. "Why does the investigation matter so much to you?" he asked more seriously.
Pierce stared into the fire. He had asked himself the same question many times and had rarely allowed himself to answer honestly.
"Because whoever kept Hugh hidden for all those months may still exist," he said at last. "They knew where my son was. They knew how to keep him from me. If they chose to take him once, what prevents them from doing so again?"
Nathaniel's expression sobered. "Nothing, I suppose."
"Exactly." Pierce's jaw tightened. "I need to know who did it before they have another opportunity."
For several moments, neither man spoke. Then Pierce exhaled slowly. "But that is not the only reason."
Nathaniel waited. Then he said, "You are a very powerful man. It is unlikely that someone would attempt to go against you to take your son."
Pierce hated what he was about to confess, yet there was little point pretending with the one man who had known him for years.
"There is another matter for which I would like an answer. I… confess that I would like proof that I was not responsible for Augusta's death."
The words seemed heavier once spoken aloud. He had spent years carrying the guilt like a sentence he had never been formally given. if he discovered what happened, he could finally determine whether he had truly driven her away or whether there had been forces beyond his control.
Nathaniel's expression softened. "That is a heavy burden to bear. But you would be wise to give some attention to the person who is actually still here."
Pierce looked at him sharply. "Margaret?"
"Yes, Margaret," Nathaniel said, reaching for his brandy. "She is alive, she is your wife, she adores your son, and from what you have just told me, she has apparently stopped arguing with you. You should enjoy the miracle while it lasts."
Pierce scoffed. "She has stopped arguing for the most part, but she is not so easy to manage."
Nathaniel smiled. "That is precisely why you like her."
Pierce opened his mouth to deny it, then stopped.
Nathaniel's grin became triumphant. "I knew it."
Pierce stood and reached for his gloves. "You know nothing."
"I know you better than you think."
The sudden knock at the door interrupted the uneasy bickering between them.
Nathaniel looked towards the entrance as his servant appeared, bowing politely before announcing, "Your guests have arrived, my lord."
A grin immediately spread across Nathaniel’s face as he straightened in his chair. "Excellent. Lead them into the drawing room," he instructed, waving the servant away with a knowing look.
Pierce raised one dark brow. "Guests?" he asked, his suspicion sharpening.
"I was not expecting you today," Nathaniel replied, rising from his desk with a laugh. "Had I known you were coming, I might have arranged something more suitable. However, if you wish to remain, you may join us for drinks and dinner."
Pierce studied him. "Who are the guests?"
Nathaniel's grin widened rather suspiciously. "Come along, Your Grace. I believe an introduction is in order."
He led Pierce from the study and down the corridor, his amusement growing with every step.
When they reached the drawing room, Nathaniel paused at the threshold, and Pierce looked inside to find two young women seated together, their presence conspicuously informal for a gentleman’s household at such an hour.
Both extended their fans and gave the gentleman a devious yet coy look.
Nathaniel leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Two dancers from the gardens. I was going to have them both for dessert, but since you are here, I do not mind sharing, just like old times."
Pierce stared at his friend for a long moment before shaking his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his mouth. He gave Nathaniel a firm pat on the shoulder as he stepped away. "I think you can manage this party on your own. Have a very good night."
Nathaniel blinked at him, apparently genuinely surprised. "You are leaving?"
"Immediately."
"You have become remarkably dull," Nathaniel called out.
Pierce glanced back at him. "I have become married. There is a difference."
Nathaniel laughed as Pierce turned away. "Good God, Ravenfield. I never thought I would see the day."
Neither had Pierce.
He left the house and descended the steps towards his waiting carriage, the cool early evening air doing little to settle the strange feeling that had taken hold of him.
Once inside, he leaned back against the leather seat and stared through the carriage window as Nathaniel’s house disappeared behind him.
There had been a time when such an invitation would have required no consideration whatsoever. He would have accepted the evening’s entertainment without hesitation, amused by the secrecy, the indulgence, and the knowledge that tomorrow he would remember very little of it.
Now the thought left him utterly indifferent.