Page 10 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

For a moment, Pierce could not move. Then he looked down at the child, and everything inside him seemed to collapse beneath the force of recognition.

The baby stared back at him with curious, solemn eyes, one green and one blue. Pierce had seen those eyes in the mirror every morning of his life, and he had seen them in the face of his father before him. They belonged to the men of Ravenfield, passed down through generations.

"No," Pierce whispered, though there was no disbelief left in the word.

He stepped closer and slowly reached into the basket, lifting the child into his arms. Hugh quietened almost immediately, resting against his chest as though he had always belonged there. Pierce stared down at his son, overwhelmed by the impossible truth.

My child is alive.

* * *

Margaret walked into the church on her father's arm, feeling as though she were approaching her own funeral. The church was almost entirely empty, the silence broken only by the faint rustle of her gown and the measured footsteps of Bernard Wilmore beside her.

There were no curious members of the ton, no friends, no distant relations eager to witness the scandal, only Iris and her husband, Blais, seated beside Camelia and her husband, Raph.

Margaret was grateful for their presence, yet the sight of the four people she loved most somehow made the occasion more painful.

Bernard's hand trembled slightly upon her arm as he guided her down the aisle.

"Margaret," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "I am so sorry."

She kept her eyes fixed upon the altar, afraid that if she looked at him she would begin to cry.

"I am sorry for my father's mistake, and for every consequence that has fallen upon you because of it," he continued, his voice breaking slightly. "I should have protected you better. I should have told you the truth years ago."

Margaret swallowed hard, though she scarcely heard him.

"You must know that you will never be alone," Bernard whispered as they continued towards the altar. "Iris and Camelia and I will never abandon you. Whatever happens after today, we shall be there. We shall do everything in our power to protect you, even after you are married."

Margaret finally glanced at him, and the sorrow in his eyes nearly broke her heart. She managed a faint nod, but her thoughts were far away. She had spent the past week searching for an escape and had found none, and the memory of Pierce Sterling's mismatched eyes haunted her with particular cruelty.

She had thought of him every night since the masquerade. She had remembered his hand beneath her chin, the warmth of his breath against her skin, and the quiet certainty in his voice when he told her he understood.

She had even imagined, foolishly, that he might somehow appear and rescue her. But fantasies belonged to girls who believed in love, and Margaret had learned long ago that life rarely behaved like one.

Now she stood before the altar with Geoffrey Harrowby waiting to claim a contract written before she had been born.

Bernard placed her hand into Geoffrey's. Geoffrey smiled.

Margaret felt nothing.

The vicar had barely begun the formal declaration when a powerful voice echoed through the church.

"I object."

Margaret's heart stopped. Every head turned towards the entrance.

She knew that voice.

Slow footsteps sounded against the stone floor, growing louder as a tall figure emerged from the shadows.

Pierce Sterling, Duke of Ravenfield.

His gaze found Margaret immediately. The church seemed to disappear around her. Pierce walked forward with an expression of absolute certainty, his eyes fixed upon the woman standing beside Geoffrey.

"I object," he repeated, his voice carrying through the church with unmistakable authority.

Geoffrey turned furiously. "You have no right to interrupt this ceremony."