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“What does that mean? Did he accept money from Barrings or didn’t he?”
“None that I witnessed. Whether or not he took his share when he and Tragmore were alone, I don’t know. In truth, he was removed and disinterested during the actual meetings, more restless than avid. Actually, his entire presence at the workhouse always struck me as rather odd. The moment the meetings ended, he would wander about, saying nothing, doing nothing, merely looking. It’s only now that I understand what his purpose was.”
Realization dawned in Daphne’s eyes. “To see you.”
“Evidently. It was his pathetic way of keeping an eye on his bastard son. He’d received word of my mother’s death and was, supposedly, distraught. Not distraught enough to compromise his legitimate heir by acknowledging me; just enough to pay an occasional visit to the workhouse to verify that I lived.”
“He was weak, Pierce. But it’s obvious that, in his own way, he cared.”
“Cared?” Pierce’s expression was incredulous. “If he cared he wouldn’t have cast my mother out when she told him she was carrying his child. Nor would he have relegated us to the atrocity of a workhouse existence. No, Daphne, he didn’t care.”
Daphne considered arguing the point, then thought better of it. Later, when her husband was ready, she would confront the pain of his abandonment and, hopefully, help him find peace of mind. But instinct cautioned her that now was not the time. “You said my father didn’t know you by name,” she clarified instead. “Then that means he never made the connection between you and the duke’s workhouse visits.”
“Not then. By now I’m sure he’s figured it out. Between his investigation of my background and his realization that Markham sired me, I’m certain he’s put it all together.”
“I wonder what excuse the duke gave Father for accompanying him to his meetings with Barrings.”
“I assume Markham must have, at the very least, feigned interest in receiving financial compensation. Money is the only incentive your father understands.”
“I’m so sorry.” Daphne’s voice broke as she pressed her forehead to Pierce’s chest. “I know I’m not responsible for my father’s actions, but that doesn’t prevent me from wishing I could undo them. Because of him you endured hell.”
“And I intend to see him there in my stead.”
Daphne raised her chin, tears glistening on her lashes. “Will you tell me what you have planned?” she asked softly, uncertain if Pierce would comply. “Why have you accepted a title you despise and how will it help bring my father down?”
“Very well.” Determined to offer his wife as vast a measure of honesty as possible, Pierce squelch
ed his qualms that she wouldn’t—couldn’t—condone tactics spawned solely by hate. “I accepted the title because it offers me two things I lacked as a commoner: great wealth and great power. And you’re right. For myself, I give a damn for neither. But it’s not myself I’m considering.” Earnestly, he gripped her shoulders. “Daphne, each week of my two years as the Duke of Markham I receive an allowance of ten thousand pounds. If I fulfill Markham’s two stipulations, I leave a free man, with access to an estate worth over twenty million pounds. Do you have any idea what that money could buy?”
She studied him, comprehension dawning. “Yes, I do. You want to help the workhouses, don’t you?”
He nodded. “I’m far from a poor man. But the sum of my own funds is but a fraction of Markham’s fortune. I could do so much. Not just token donations, but rampant reformation—providing more sanitary conditions, higher quality food, less crowded space. The possibilities are endless. Plus I’d have influence with the magistrates, the kind of influence only wealth and a title can provide.”
“And my father? Where does he factor into all this?”
Pierce drew a deep breath. “As I told you, I own each and every one of your father’s outstanding notes. He lives in perpetual fear of when I’ll choose to call them in. His sole comfort has been that, unless I went ahead and scandalized him with enforced bankruptcy, my nonexistent social status precluded me from penetrating his coveted social circles and slandering his name. Now even that peace of mind is gone. Overnight I’ve become a lofty nobleman, respected by all the ton. Why, I can stroll into White’s, attend grand country house parties—the options are limitless. I’ll be a constant, taunting thorn in Tragmore’s side. I doubt he’ll ever sleep again.” Jaw clenched, Pierce steeled himself for Daphne’s response.
It was anything but the one he’d expected.
With uncanny insight rather than shock, Daphne replied, “I know the kind of man you are, Pierce, despite the depth of your hatred. You don’t plan to call in those notes at all. You don’t want to bankrupt Father, any more than you want his money.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But not because I’m so fine a man. Because I want to see Tragmore squirm, to render him as helpless as all the people he’s victimized over the years.”
“Yes. But now complete that line of reasoning. You want to render him helpless, not merely to gloat, but so he can never again brutalize anyone as he did you, me, and Mama.”
Silently, Pierce ingested his wife’s words. Then he nodded. “I can’t dispute your point. Nevertheless, Tragmore will never know that holding those notes is the only victory I seek. So far as he’s concerned I could call them in at any time. He’s vulnerable and he’s terrified, and I glory in both. So don’t paint me a hero, Daphne. Given that blackmail is the only weapon capable of striking down a black-hearted bastard like your father, I use it without guilt or regret.”
“I agree.”
Pierce started. “You agree?”
“Absolutely. Father must be stopped. And threatening his wealth and social position is the only way to do it.” Daphne punctuated her declaration with an emphatic nod. “Now, tell me how I can help. What do you intend to accomplish today when we go to Tragmore and in what ways can I assist you?”
A mixture of pride and relief swept over Pierce’s face, and he shook his head in wondrous disbelief. “What an extraordinary combination of contradictions you are, Snow flame. So delicate, so strong.”
“Spirit and fire, I believe you said. Rife with untapped passion and exceptional instincts.”
He chuckled. “So I did.” Tenderly, he framed her face between his palms. “Let’s get dressed. During our carriage ride, I’ll explain my plan. Then we can put your exceptional instincts to work.”
