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And now there was Daphne.
Daphne, who filled his heart with love, leaving no room for vengeance, obliterating all the restlessness from his soul. Along with her love came a peace far more profound than his reckless exhilaration, planting the seeds for a future he’d never envisioned as possible. Until now there had been nothing at stake. Suddenly there was everything.
Which left only his need for justice.
Well, wasn’t that need being assuaged as well, not only extensively, but legally and without compromising his safety, or Daphne’s?
After all, as the newly instated Duke of Markham, he had all the money he needed. With every bank draft he wrote, every donation he made, wasn’t he effecting the very justice he sought by helping the helpless, ensuring a better life for the poor and hungry?
The answer was an unequivocal yes.
So what was holding him back? Why didn’t he just relegate the Tin Cup Bandit to the annals of history?
Because there was one nagging reality that wouldn’t be silenced.
I have a message for you. Pierce could still see Daphne’s face, hear her words the night she’d faced the bandit in her bedchamber. The children in the village school asked that, should you and I ever meet, I make certain you know you’re their hero. Which, given the vast potential of their loving hearts, is a most glowing tribute.
Timmy, William, Prudence, and all the other Timmys and Williams believed in him, relied on the valiant forays of the Tin Cup Bandit.
How could he forsake the children? He, who knew firsthand what it was like to have no one to rely upon, nothing to believe in. How could he take away the only person who’d ever offered them constancy and hope?
He couldn’t.
Pierce closed his eyes, a muscle working in his jaw.
“Don’t be angry,” Daphne said softly.
He blinked, stared dazedly at her. “What?”
“Don’t be angry. They?
?re only children. In their minds, the bandit is a hero.”
Vaguely, Pierce realized Daphne had interpreted his brooding silence as resurrected jealousy. “I’m not angry.”
She stroked his jaw. “I love you.”
Seizing her wrist, Pierce pressed his lips fiercely to her palm. “I know. And I’m not angry.” He glanced about, realizing Miss Redmund had resettled the children for their studies and the vicar was waiting tactfully at the door. “Evidently, I was engrossed in my thoughts.”
“So it would seem.” Daphne situated Russet in the crook of her arm, thoughtfully surveying her husband’s troubled expression. “Shall we go?”
Pierce nodded, staring beyond his wife to where the children were bent over their slates. “Yes,” he agreed in a hollow tone. “We’ve done all we can for today.”
“Were I not escorting the most beautiful woman in the room, I would abandon this ridiculous ball in an instant,” Pierce muttered in Daphne’s ear.
Daphne’s lips twitched as her husband whirled her about Benchley’s crowded ballroom. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”
“Neither. Both statements are true. I loathe these pretentious gatherings, and you are so exquisite I very nearly locked our guest room door and rapidly divested you of the gown you so painstakingly donned.”
This time Daphne couldn’t suppress her laughter. “You shock me, Your Grace.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Pierce retorted dryly. “You know me too well.”
“Yes, I do.” She smiled up at him. “And I know you came to Benchley for my sake. Thank you.” She gazed around at the festive holiday decorations. “I normally dislike these parties as much as you do. But it’s almost Christmas. And for the first time in my life I truly know what Christmas spirit means. I’m so happy. Perhaps it sounds foolish, but I somehow wanted to glory in that joy, to share it with the world, just this once.”
Pierce brought her gloved hand to his lips. “It doesn’t sound foolish. And the glow on your cheeks makes the whole disagreeable event worthwhile.”
“All of it? Even the two-hour tour Lord Benchley insisted on conducting to demonstrate his latest renovations?” Daphne teased.
