Page 106 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

Pierce's expression grew more serious. "Promising. I am waiting to hear whether a lead proves useful."

Nathaniel nodded, pleased. "Good. I am glad you have found something." He then glanced towards the dancers with renewed enthusiasm. "Now, enough of serious matters. I intend to dance with at least ten debutantes tonight."

Pierce stared at him. "Only ten?"

Nathaniel grinned. "I am attempting restraint."

Pierce almost smiled despite himself. "That will be a first."

Nathaniel began pointing out various young ladies he intended to pursue, offering elaborate assessments of their gowns, masks, and apparent willingness to tolerate his conversation, but Pierce found himself listening only half-heartedly. His attention had returned to Margaret. Across the ballroom, he saw her standing with Iris and Lady Everton, and at that precise moment a gentleman approached her with a polite bow. Pierce's jaw tightened when the man extended his hand and asked his wife for a dance.

How dare he?

Nathaniel followed his gaze and immediately understood. His grin widened. "Do not look so murderous, Ravenfield. They have no idea she is your wife beneath that disguise."

Pierce watched the gentleman standing before Margaret and narrowed his eyes. "That may be true," he replied, taking another measured sip of brandy. "Or they know exactly who she is."

Nathaniel laughed beneath his mask. "You cannot seriously believe every man in London has memorized the Duchess of Ravenfield's silhouette. Though I admit, it’s quite a memorable silhouette."

"I do not care what they know," Pierce said, setting down his glass. His gaze remained fixed upon Margaret, whose smile was entirely too charming for the comfort of his temper. "I ought to return immediately and make my claim. Then they will keep their filthy hands off Margaret."

Nathaniel nearly choked on his brandy. "Your claim?" he repeated, clearly delighted. "Good God, Pierce. She is your wife, not a parcel of land."

Pierce finally looked at him, completely unamused.

Nathaniel only laughed harder. "You are seething with jealousy."

"I am not jealous," Pierce said with perfect certainty, even as his eyes returned to the gentleman beside Margaret.

Nathaniel followed his gaze and shook his head. "Of course not. You are merely deeply concerned about the safety of every gentleman within five feet of your wife."

Pierce's mouth tightened. "Precisely."

Nathaniel laughed again. "You are jealous."

Pierce finished his brandy and set down the glass with deliberate calm. "If you repeat that word once more, I shall make certain you spend the rest of the evening not capable of at all."

Nathaniel's grin became positively wicked. "There, you see? Jealous."

Pierce ignored him, already moving through the crowd towards Margaret, because whatever Nathaniel chose to call it, Pierce knew one thing with absolute certainty: he did not like another man's attention resting upon his wife. Not in the slightest

CHAPTER 26

"Your Grace… is it?"

Pierce had made it no more than halfway across the ballroom when Lady Darren intercepted him with the uncanny precision of a woman who had spent years hunting down husbands, scandals, and anything else of interest to the ton. She arrived accompanied by three other ladies, all heavily masked and decorated with enough feathers, ribbons, and jewels to furnish a small theatre, and Pierce recognized them as the usual collection of women who could discover a rumor before the person at the center of it had even committed the offence.

"Indeed," he said, acknowledging that it was him under the mask.

"How delightful to find you here," she curtseyed.

Pierce inclined his head politely, though his attention had already wandered past her shoulder.

Margaret was standing across the ballroom, and yet another gentleman had approached her, this one in a gold mask. Pierce watched the man bow, say something that made Margaret smile, and extend his hand. He could not hear the man's request, but he did not need to.

Margaret hesitated for perhaps half a second before placing her hand in his, and Pierce's fingers curled slowly into fists at his sides. Then the gold-masked stranger led his wife onto the dance floor, and Pierce's expression hardened as he watched Margaret's blue-green costume sweep around her like the waves of some enchanted sea. She looked magnificent. She also looked entirely too magnificent while dancing with another man.

"Your Grace?" Lady Darren prompted, and Pierce realized that she had been speaking to him.