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9
“WELCOME, YOUR GRACE.”
The uniformed gatekeeper bowed, then moved to swing Markham’s iron gates wide, admitting the carriage of the new duke.
“Thank you,” Pierce returned. Leveling his gaze straight ahead, he coolly assessed the hundreds of acres of land that now belonged to him.
“Impressive, wouldn’t you say?” Hollingsby inquired, watching Pierce’s unchanged expression.
“The land itself? Or the fact that I control it?”
“Both.”
“Then my answer is yes and no. Yes, the land is impressive. Only a fool would remain unawed by its splendor. As for my controlling it, that I owe to an accident of fate. I neither earned it myself, nor came upon it through cleverness or cunning. Therefore, I feel little pride in the knowledge that it is mine.”
Hollingsby shook his head in amazement. “You constantly astonish me, Thornton—er, Markham.”
That declaration elicited the satisfied gleam Hollingsby had expected when Pierce first beheld his land. “Do I?” Pierce flashed him a broad grin. “Now that is a tribute to my skill. Rendering people off balance is a particular talent of mine, one of which I am quite proud.” He leaned back in his seat. “As for your uncertain form of address, let me ease your quandary. I’ve been Pierce Thornton for thirty years. I intend to remain Pierce Thornton.”
“Your family name is Ashford,” Hollingsby protested.
“My father’s name was Ashford. Mine is not. However, that is irrelevant for, if my paltry education serves me correctly, I can henceforth expect to be addressed as either Markham or Your Grace. Isn’t that right?”
“It is.”
“Then you call me Thornton. Or Pierce, my given name.”
“But as you just pointed out—”
“Why not dare to be different?” Pierce cocked a challenging brow in Hollingsby’s direction. “Or are you too steeped in the ion’s rules to risk it?”
“What does that mean?”
“I like you, Hollingsby. I think you’re a decent, honorable man. I also think you’re so dull it tires even you.”
“Well, I—” The solicitor looked totally flabbergasted.
“Tell me the truth.” Pierce leaned forward. “Don’t you ever contemplate what it would feel like to break all those rigid rules within which you live? To do precisely what you want to do, say what you wish to say?”
“And lose the business of every noted gentleman in England.”
“A few, perhaps. But most would stay. And do you know why? Because the highborn would be forced to give you something more than just their business, something that would ensure you their patronage for life.”
“Which is?”
“Their respect.”
An instant of silence, broken by Hollingsby’s shout of laughter. “You’re teaching me to be a gambler.”
“No. I’m teaching you to be your own person.” Pierce’s lips twitched. “And to be a good gambler.”
Growing sober, Hollingsby studied Pierce for a long, thoughtful moment. “I serve the wealthiest, most renowned noblemen of the ton,” he mused aloud. “They pay me a great deal of money, rely heavily upon my legal skills, include me in their social gatherings. Yet, for the life of me, I cannot think of a single one of them I’d choose to call friend.” He shook his head and grinned. “You are by far the most irreverent, unconventional rebel I have yet to meet, the utter antithesis of those whose company I customarily keep.” His grin widened. “But, hell and damnation, I like you, Thornton. You might be just the fire needed to thaw a stuffy old man like me.”
Fire? Pierce smiled. That was what Daphne had called him last night in the garden. Well, if he were the fire, she was the spark that ignited it.
“Thornton? Have I offended you?”
“Hmm? No, of course not.” Pierce temporarily relinquished last night’s memories. “If anything you’ve cheered me by proving I was right about you. Think of what we can teach each other: you can keep me on the proper ducal course and I can teach you to take risks, to venture from your narrow world on occasion.”
