Page 107 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

He turned his attention back to her with effort. "Forgive me. I was distracted."

Lady Darren followed his gaze, and her eyes immediately brightened with the satisfaction of discovering something interesting. "Ah," she murmured knowingly, turning to watch Margaret as well. "I see."

Pierce disliked the sound of those two words almost as much as he disliked the expression that accompanied them. The other ladies looked towards Margaret too, their interest sharpening with every passing second.

Lady Darren gave a delicate little laugh. "How is your second marriage progressing, Your Grace?" she asked, fanning herself as though the question were entirely innocent.

Pierce looked at her. "Quite well."

"Indeed?" she replied, drawing out the word while watching Margaret turn gracefully beneath her partner's arm. "Your duchess is certainly an... interesting choice."

Pierce's eyes narrowed. There it was. The insult concealed beneath a compliment so thin that even the most charitable person could have seen through it. He remembered Lady Darren's previous comments about Margaret, including her cruel insinuations concerning Augusta, and his patience had already been worn thin by watching another man's hand rest upon his wife's waist.

"Interesting," Pierce repeated, his voice dangerously mild. "What a… fascinating choice of word."

Lady Darren smiled, clearly believing herself clever. "I meant no offense, of course. Lady Margaret is spirited, unconventional, and rather..." She paused, clearly searching for a polite word that would disguise the insult. "Unrefined."

Pierce stared at her for a moment, genuinely astonished that she had been foolish enough to say it aloud. "How fortunate for my wife," he replied, "that she possesses qualities you evidently find so lacking in yourself."

The ladies beside Lady Darren fell silent, and one of them coughed delicately into her glove.

Lady Darren's smile stiffened. "I beg your pardon?" she asked, lifting her chin.

Pierce took one slow step closer, his expression composed but his voice cold. "You heard me."

He had never understood why people mistook rank for permission to be cruel. Perhaps they assumed that because he was a duke, he would politely tolerate any insult delivered with a smile. Margaret certainly had not tolerated such behavior, and he found himself rather proud that she had taught the ton to regret underestimating her.

"My wife is intelligent, warm, courageous, and considerably more interesting than anyone in this ballroom."

Lady Darren's mouth fell open. "I was merely making conversation."

"Then I suggest you find a subject at which you are more accomplished," Pierce said, taking another glance towards the dance floor.

Margaret was laughing at something her partner had said, and Pierce felt another sharp twist of jealousy. He knew she was doing nothing wrong. He knew the gentleman could not possibly know that the beautiful sea goddess before him was the Duchess of Ravenfield, and yet logic did very little to soothe the primitive irritation tightening his chest.

"Perhaps gardening," he added dryly. "I understand you are fond of discussing other people's dirt."

One of the hen ladies made a strangled sound that might have been an attempt to suppress laughter.

Lady Darren looked as though she had swallowed a lemon whole. "Your Grace, that is hardly…"

"Good evening," Pierce interrupted, offering her the smallest possible bow. He had no interest in hearing the explanation that would inevitably follow, because explanations from people like Lady Darren were rarely apologies and almost never sincere. He turned away before she could recover enough to stop him, leaving the group in stunned silence behind him.

He moved towards the dance floor, his eyes never leaving Margaret. He ought to have been embarrassed by his behavior. A duke should possess restraint, dignity, and enough social polish to endure a foolish remark without threatening the offender's peace of mind. Pierce possessed all three qualities when he wished to. Tonight, however, his wife was wearing the pearl necklace he had given her; she was dressed as a sea goddess, and another man's hand was resting at her waist. His restraint had apparently decided to attend a different ball.

Nathaniel's voice echoed in his memory, teasing him about jealousy, and Pierce grimaced. He had denied it then, but perhaps his friend had been right. There was something deeply unreasonable about the possessiveness rising within him, especially when Margaret had done nothing but accept a dance. Yet he could not deny what he felt when he watched her move through another man's arms. He wanted her attention. He wanted her laughter directed at him. He wanted every gentleman in London to know precisely who she belonged with, and he suspected that if another man asked her for a second dance, he might make a very public announcement of their marriage.

Then Margaret glanced toward him.

Their eyes met as he approached, and the warmth that immediately appeared in her expression did more to soothe his temper than any sensible thought could have accomplished. She smiled at him, and Pierce's chest tightened for an entirely different reason.

Pierce stepped forward and intercepted the man before he could complete the turn of the dance.

"Thank you," he said with a courteous nod that contained not the slightest suggestion that further conversation would be welcome.

The gentleman hesitated, glanced at Margaret, then at the imposing duke standing before him, and wisely retreated into the crowd.

Margaret watched the exchange with amusement rather than outrage, her lips curving. "You are quite rude," she observed, placing her hand in Pierce’s.