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“The manor is straight ahead,” Hollingsby interrupted, pointing. “Have a look.”
Quietly, Pierce scrutinized the imposing Gothic structure, thinking it was much as he’d expected it to be: palatial in size, devoid of warmth, a series of gray turrets and spires amid colorful, carefully manicured gardens.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?”
“Actually, I prefer my own residence.”
“Thornton, your lodgings in Wellingborough could fit into Markham’s morning room.”
“True. But the warmth and comfort of that modest abode is worth more than all of Markham’s grandeur. Trust me, Hollingsby. To a man who’s spent most of his life on the streets, home is a gift to be treasured.”
Hollingsby cleared his throat awkwardly. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean—”
“No forgiveness is necessary,” Pierce assured him in a matter-of-fact tone. “I was merely pointing out that magnificence is a relative term.”
“Agreed.” Hollingsby adjusted his waistcoat as the carriage rounded the curved drive and stopped before the entranceway doors.
Barely had the horses come to a halt, when the manor doors were flung wide and a bevy of footmen scurried out to transport the duke’s luggage to his new quarters. One tall, dignified man in uniform remained at rapt attention in the doorway, presumably awaiting his master’s entrance.
“That is your butler, Langley,” Hollingsby muttered as they alit. “He was with your father for thirty years.”
“I see.” Pierce nodded, strolling forward to meet the man of whom Hollingsby spoke.
“Your Grace.” Langley bowed deeply. “Welcome to your new home. I shall be proud to serve you as I did your father.”
“Thank you, Langley.” Pierce extended his hand. “I shall rely heavily upon your knowledge of the estate and the staff as I learn my way about.”
Langley stared at Pierce’s hand in utter stupefaction.
“Go ahead. Grasp it. I’m told dukes’s hands closely resemble those of mortals in both shape and texture.”
“I couldn’t, sir.”
Pierce grinned. “Try.”
Slowly, as if he were reaching into a blazing furnace, Langley extended his hand.
Pierce clasped it. “Excellent. You’ve just passed two very important tests of mine.”
“Tests, sir?” Retracting his fingers, Langley mopped his forehead with a handkerchief.
“Yes. You’ve proven yourself to be both diligent and inventive. I will not work alongside a man who can’t carry out his tasks, nor one who does so without imagination. I’m now confident you and I will get on famously.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” The butler looked uncertain as to what he had done, but delighted to have done it. “Would you care to rest after your journey, or would you prefer to meet the staff now?”
Pierce almost laughed aloud. Journey? It was ten miles from Wellingborough to Northampton. He traveled ten times that distance the nights the bandit struck. “As luck would have it, I’m not at all fatigued. I’d enjoy meeting Markham’s other residents.”
“Very good, Your Grace.” Langley bowed again, this time with his hands firmly clasped behind his back. “I’ll summon them at once.”
“I think you can safely dismiss the idea of suggesting to Langley that he call you by your given name,” Hollingsby noted dryly as the butler scurried off. “I don’t think he’d be receptive.”
“Evidently not.” Pierce chuckled, wandering about the grand hallway, taking in the marble columns and priceless statues. “The trinkets in this room alone could feed a half dozen starving families for years.”
“As I indicated, your father was an enormously wealthy man.”
“So I see.”
“The staff awaits you in the library, Your Grace,” Langley announced.
