Page 59 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

Pierce looked towards the fire, and something in his expression made Margaret's teasing disappear.

"I do not know."

She stared at him. "You do not know?"

He shook his head slowly. "He was brought to me. I was told he was my son. I have spent the time since trying to establish where he came from, who cared for him, and what truly happened to his mother."

Margaret looked at the letters scattered across the desk. "And you thought these might tell you something."

"I hoped they might," he admitted. "I have people searching. I have questioned servants, investigated travelers, traced names, and followed every lead I could find."

He gave a humorless smile. "So far, the trail has been remarkably determined to lead nowhere."

Margaret moved closer to the desk and looked at him more carefully. The late hour had softened something in Pierce. It could have been the brandy, exhaustion, or simply that the burden he carried had simply become too heavy for him to conceal.

"No wonder Hugh cries," she said quietly. "Everything is still new to him. His surroundings, the servants, the people who care for him. Maybe even his own memories frighten him. He is used to the people that have been raising him, only to be torn from them."

Pierce's gaze returned to her. "He does cry frequently. I admit the thought he understands he's in an unfamiliar place never crossed my mind."

"He needs patience rather than rules."

His brow rose. "You have mentioned that before."

"And you have ignored it before."

A faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "The dinner was meant to be an olive branch for my rigid behavior."

Margaret looked at him with disbelief. "Was it?"

"I thought it was." He lifted his glass. "Apparently, we are not meant to get along."

She laughed softly. "With your attitude, we certainly cannot."

Pierce's eyebrows rose. "My attitude?"

"Yes, yours." Margaret gestured towards him. "You speak as though every conversation is an order waiting to be obeyed."

"And you speak as though every order is a personal invitation to disobey."

"Well, maybe that is because you make obedience so dreadfully unattractive," she said.

Pierce actually laughed, a low sound that seemed strangely unfamiliar in the solemn study.

Margaret stared at him, surprised by how much she liked the sound. "You could be gentler," she added, quieter now.

His amusement faded as he studied her. "Gentleness… has never been encouraged in this house. "

Margaret remembered Mrs. Norris's words and felt a pang of sympathy. "It should have been."

Pierce looked down at his glass. "Maybe."

For several seconds neither spoke, and Margaret realized that this was the first time he had offered her even the smallest vulnerability beneath the armor he wore.

"You should be asleep," she said.

"You should take your own advice," Pierce said. "Margaret."

She turned. "Yes?"