Chapter 29
Pierce woke before the sun had properly risen, when the darkness beyond the bedchamber windows had begun to soften into the pale grey of dawn. For several moments he remained perfectly still, his eyes adjusting to the dim light as he listened to the quiet breathing beside him.
Margaret lay curled beneath the blankets, her dark hair spread across the pillow, her face peaceful in sleep.
He watched her longer than he intended, struck by how different she looked when she was not teasing him, arguing with him, or challenging every order he gave her.
In sleep she appeared remarkably vulnerable, and something deep within his chest tightened at the sight.
My wife.
The thought came with a strange finality now, because there was no longer any uncertainty between them.
Margaret was not merely the woman he had married because circumstances had demanded it, nor simply the mother Hugh needed, nor the solution to a problem that had threatened to consume his household.
She was his true wife now that they had consummated the marriage, and the realization unsettled him precisely because it mattered so much.
He had spent years believing that attachments were weaknesses a man in his position could not afford, yet one look at Margaret sleeping beside him was enough to make every one of those convictions seem foolish.
They would raise Hugh together, he thought, and he would make certain that the boy grew up surrounded by safety, affection, and the certainty that his father would always protect him.
But first, Pierce needed to finish what he had begun.
I can not allow a shadow of uncertainty to hang over this family.
The questions surrounding Hugh's arrival.
Augusta's disappearance, the mysterious woman who had taken a carriage south, and the secrets concealed for so long had followed him.
He had tolerated uncertainty when he had been alone, but he would not tolerate it now.
Not when Margaret's safety was involved.
Not when Hugh was sleeping under his roof, innocent of the danger that might still exist beyond its walls.
Whatever waited for him in the south, Pierce intended to find it, confront it, and end it.
He carefully pushed back the covers and rose from the bed, pausing when Margaret stirred.
His entire body went still until she settled again, one hand slipping beneath her cheek as she continued sleeping.
Pierce dressed in silence, fastening his shirt and waistcoat with deliberate care before pulling on his coat.
He glanced towards her once more as he adjusted his cuffs, committing the sight of her to memory.
He had no desire to frighten her with another departure, particularly after the argument at the masquerade, but he knew that if he told her he was leaving before dawn, she would insist upon coming with him or demand answers he could not yet give.
Better to go quietly and return quickly.
He slipped from the bedchamber and walked along the silent corridor towards the nursery.
The house was still asleep, servants and family alike hidden behind closed doors, and Pierce felt the familiar responsibility of Ravenfield settle over him.
When he entered the nursery, he found Hugh sleeping peacefully in his cot.
The little boy's cheeks were warm with sleep, one tiny hand curled beside his face, and Pierce stood beside him for several moments without moving.
He had once regarded the child as a mystery deposited upon his doorstep, but now the sight of Hugh stirred something fiercely protective within him.
"Goodbye, my son," he whispered, leaning closer to the cot. His voice was so quiet that even the nursery walls seemed to absorb it. "I shall be back soon, and when I return, I shall make certain this house is safe for you forever."
He rested one hand against the edge of the cot, resisting the sudden urge to pick Hugh up and carry him back to Margaret. The boy needed neither fear nor disruption, and Pierce needed to finish this journey before the unknown danger had an opportunity to reach them.
He left the nursery reluctantly and descended the staircase, his footsteps measured upon the carpeted steps. In the entrance hall, the early morning chill lingered in the air, and the first faint light had begun to creep through the tall windows.
His valet appeared almost immediately, already dressed and prepared for the household's early routines.
"Have my carriage brought round," Pierce instructed, reaching for his gloves.
The valet bowed and immediately turned to obey, but Pierce stopped him for a moment.
"And inform Mrs. Norris that I have departed and will be gone for several days. I do not want the household disturbed." The valet nodded and disappeared towards the servants' quarters.
Pierce stood alone in the hall, pulling on his gloves as he considered the road ahead.
He had spent too long chasing fragments, names, rumors, journeys, half-hidden clues, and unanswered questions.
This time he had a genuine lead, and he intended to follow it himself rather than send another man to do what he could not.
Perhaps he was foolish to believe that one journey could finally bring an end to everything, but Pierce had learned that a man could not protect his family by endlessly waiting for danger to reveal itself. He had to seek it out first.
Family. That word now meant Hugh and Margaret. I understand that now.
His thoughts returned to Margaret, and despite himself, his mouth softened into the faintest smile.
She would be furious when she discovered he had left without waking her.
She would call him an oaf, accuse him of being impossible, and demand to know why he had not trusted her enough to say goodbye.
She would be right. Yet he would rather face her anger than expose her to whatever awaited him.
The carriage rolled to a halt outside, and Pierce stepped towards the door.
Once this journey was over, there would be no more mysteries, he promised himself.
No more unanswered questions lurking in the shadows, no more secrets capable of threatening Margaret or Hugh, and no unforeseen danger waiting for an opportunity to enter his home.
He would uncover the truth, whatever it cost him, and then he would return to the woman sleeping upstairs and the little boy waiting in the nursery.
Pierce had something he was determined not merely to defend, but to keep. He climbed into the carriage, gave one final glance towards Ravenfield Manor, and then ordered the coachman to drive
* * *
Margaret woke with a smile already upon her lips. For several delicious moments, she remained beneath the blankets with her eyes closed, remembering the night before and feeling warmth steal through her all over again.
My…I thought I knew pleasure before. I had believed I understood what it meant to be desired and held and kissed by a man I wanted, but last night was something else entirely.
There had been tenderness in Pierce's touch, patience in every gesture, and a sense of trust between them that made her heart feel almost too full for her chest. She turned instinctively towards his side of the bed, expecting to find his broad shoulders and dark hair beside her, and then she froze.
The mattress was cold. The pillow was empty. Pierce was gone. Again.
For several seconds she stared at the vacant space as though sheer disbelief might make him reappear.
"Oh, I really hate that selfish, stubborn, impossible man," she muttered, pushing herself upright and staring accusingly at the empty pillow.
The words sounded convincing for perhaps half a heartbeat before her own heart betrayed her.
No, she did not hate him at all. That was the problem.
She loved him, or was perilously close to doing so, and every time he disappeared without warning, he took a little piece of her calm with him.
She pressed her fingers to her temples and sighed, wondering how a man could be so infuriating and so wonderful at precisely the same time.
Margaret dressed quickly, refusing to allow herself another moment of brooding before she had seen Hugh.
She went directly to the nursery and found him still asleep, his little chest rising and falling beneath his blankets while the nanny sat nearby. The sight softened something inside her immediately. She approached the cot and bent to kiss Hugh's forehead before turning towards the nanny.
"Alert me the moment he wakes," she instructed, smoothing the child's blanket. "I do not care what I am doing or where I am. I want to know."
The nanny nodded, and Margaret gave Hugh one last affectionate glance before leaving, determined not to let her husband's absence ruin the morning.
Downstairs, she found Mrs. Norris in the hall and approached her with what she hoped was an expression of complete composure.
"Mrs. Norris, where is His Grace?" she asked, clasping her hands before her so the housekeeper would not see how tightly her fingers had curled together.
Mrs. Norris frowned slightly. "He left early this morning, Your Grace," she replied, watching Margaret carefully. "I was not about at the time, but His Grace's valet told me that he had a small travel bag with him when he departed and said he would be gone for several days."
Margaret felt the familiar hollow sensation settle in her stomach.
"I see," she said quietly, forcing a smile that fooled neither of them.
"I shall not be having breakfast. I believe I shall remain in my room for a while.
" Before Mrs. Norris could offer anything else, Margaret turned and walked upstairs with as much dignity as she could summon.
The moment her bedroom door closed, the dignity vanished.
Margaret sat upon the edge of the bed, feeling tears burn behind her eyes.
She had promised herself she would not become one of those wives who waited anxiously for a husband to return, yet here she was, wondering where he had gone, why he had left, and whether he had even thought of her before walking out the door.
I need a good cry, then I will get on with it and not think of him.
She allowed herself exactly that, burying her face in her handkerchief and shedding the tears she had stubbornly held back downstairs. For an hour she remained there, until a knock finally sounded upon the door.
"Your Grace?" Mrs Norris called from the other side.
Margaret quickly wiped her face before answering, "Yes?"
The housekeeper entered and offered her a small smile. "The nanny wished me to tell you that Master Hugh is awake."
Margaret's expression transformed at once. "Thank you," she said, rising from the bed.
The thought of Hugh was enough to push Pierce from the center of her thoughts, at least temporarily. She washed her face, tidied her hair, and looked at her reflection with renewed determination.
I will not wallow over a husband all day. I have a child to care for, and if Pierce wishes to disappear upon mysterious journeys, I can certainly find ways to occupy myself.
When Margaret entered the nursery, Hugh spotted her immediately and raised both arms towards her with an enthusiastic squeal.
Her heart melted. "Oh, there you are," she exclaimed, crossing the room and scooping him into her arms.
Hugh immediately wrapped his little hands around her, and Margaret kissed his cheek repeatedly while he laughed. The sound filled her with such happiness that she nearly forgot her earlier tears. She carried him towards the window and smiled at the sunlight spilling across the nursery.
"Come along, my darling," she murmured, settling him against her shoulder. "Let's go to the gardens and be in the sunshine."
Hugh squealed again, and Margaret laughed, grateful that one small boy could make the world feel right again.
* * *
Over the next few days, there was no sign of Pierce.
Margaret tried not to count the hours, then caught herself counting the days instead, and each morning she woke with the same small disappointment when his side of the bed remained empty.
She refused to let the uncertainty consume her, however, and decided that a visit to Camelia would be precisely the distraction she needed.
She dressed Hugh carefully for the outing, made certain the nanny accompanied them, and soon found herself travelling towards her sister's home with a baby happily occupying her attention.
By the time she arrived, Margaret had almost convinced herself that she was perfectly content without Pierce's presence.
Camelia greeted her with obvious delight, immediately reaching for Hugh.
"Let me see that handsome little man," she exclaimed, laughing as Hugh stretched towards her.
Margaret smiled as her sister kissed his cheek. "I thought we might sit in the nursery," Camelia suggested, leading them towards the stairs. "Bethany is there, and I should like the children to see one another."
Margaret brightened. "I love that idea."
Within minutes they were settled in the nursery, where one-year-old Bethany spotted Hugh and immediately crawled towards him. The two children regarded one another for several curious seconds before reaching out and beginning to play, their laughter filling the room.
Camelia called for tea, and soon a small table had been arranged beside the nursery hearth. Margaret watched Hugh and Bethany play while she accepted her cup, though her thoughts inevitably returned to the empty side of her own bed.
"I am distressed," she admitted at last, lowering her cup.
"Pierce has gone off on one of his business trips, and I cannot help wondering how he could simply leave us.
And for what?" She shook her head, frustration tightening her voice.
"I know he has responsibilities, but surely he might have told me.
After everything that happened between us, how could he leave without even saying goodbye? "
Camelia reached across the table and touched her sister's hand. "Men can be remarkably difficult creatures," she said with sympathetic amusement.
Margaret gave a weary laugh. "That is a very polite way of describing my husband."
Camelia smiled and glanced towards her own child. "Sometimes gentlemen must do things on their own terms. My husband is much the same, though I have learned that allowing him the space to handle matters his way does not necessarily mean he loves me any less."
Margaret looked towards Hugh, who was now happily playing beside Bethany, and felt a reluctant pang of understanding.
"Perhaps, Camelia, you are right. Maybe Pierce's absence is not a rejection of me, she said.
Yet Margaret could not entirely silence the question that had been haunting her since dawn.
If he cares for me as much I hope—or at all—why is it so hard for him to tell me where he is going?