Page 109 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

"About the clues pointing south. They all lead in the same direction, towards the countryside. I believe that is where I need to go next."

He had expected satisfaction. Maybe even triumph. Pierce had thought she would be pleased to know that his investigation had finally confirmed her instincts.

Instead, the brightness disappeared from her expression.

Pierce noticed it at once. "Why are you frowning?" he asked, slowing slightly as the music continued around them.

Margaret looked away, her fingers still resting in his hand, and for the first time that evening she seemed unwilling to meet his eyes.

"Margaret?" he pressed, his brows drawing together. She did not answer. He searched her face, trying to understand what had changed, but she merely withdrew her hand from his and stepped away. "What is it?" he asked, genuinely confused.

She still said nothing. Margaret turned and walked from the dance floor, her sea-goddess costume trailing behind her as she moved towards one of the corridors leading away from the ballroom. Pierce remained where he was, watching her disappear beyond the doorway. The music continued, couples continued dancing, and hundreds of masked guests continued laughing as though nothing at all had happened. Pierce stared after his wife, utterly baffled.

What did I say?

He replayed the conversation in his mind, searching for the offense. He had told her she was right. He had given her precisely the information she had demanded. Surely she ought to have been pleased. Instead, she had walked away without a word, leaving him standing alone in the middle of a crowded ballroom like a fool.

Pierce glanced towards the corridor again. Margaret was gone.

His jaw tightened. He could ignore society. He could tolerate Nathaniel's teasing, Lady Darren's gossip, and even gentlemen foolish enough to ask his wife to dance. But he could not tolerate Margaret walking away from him when he did not understand why.

With one last look at the ballroom, Pierce followed her. Duty might have called him to investigate a mystery in the southern countryside, but at that moment there was a far more immediate mystery standing somewhere beyond that corridor, and he intended to find its answer.

CHAPTER 27

Margaret stood upon the veranda with one hand gripping the delicate railing, her fingers cold despite the warmth of the evening. She had removed her sea-goddess mask and held it against her skirts, but the beautiful pearls at her throat seemed suddenly far too conspicuous, as though they announced every foolish feeling she was desperately trying to conceal.

Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked furiously, refusing to allow a single one to fall. She would not cry over Pierce Sterling. She would certainly not cry over a man who could disappear for days, return with mysterious answers, and then expect her to simply smile prettily upon his reappearance.

She drew a shaky breath and looked towards the gardens, where the lanterns cast pools of golden light across the hedges. She had been foolish to hope that his revelation would make her happy. He had finally admitted that his investigation had led him south, and instead of feeling pleased that he was speaking about it, she had felt as though someone had quietly pulled the floor from beneath her feet.

Another journey. Another mysterious absence. Another stretch of days in which I will wonder where he is, who he is with, and whether he even thinks of me.

"You should not walk away from me."

The deep voice behind her made Margaret gasp. She turned sharply, finding Pierce standing several feet away, his black mask still covering part of his face. Even in the dim light, she could see the stern set of his mouth and the unmistakable irritation in his expression. "I am your husband," he continued, advancing a measured step, "and it is indecent for you to wander out here alone. Unless, of course, you are attempting to invite another gentleman to kiss you."

Margaret's mouth fell open in outrage. "How dare you say such a thing?" she demanded, pressing one hand against her waist. "I would never behave in such a manner."

Pierce raised one dark brow, his expression maddeningly calm. "Would you not?" he asked, folding his arms. "That is precisely how we met, if you have forgotten. You were at my masquerade asking gentlemen to kiss you."

"That was different," she protested, stepping towards him. "I was in a very difficult situation, and you know perfectly well that I was trying to escape Harrowby."

"I know," he replied, his voice lowering, "but you cannot expect me to forget the spectacle merely because you have since become my duchess."

"I expect you to possess enough sense not to throw it in my face whenever you are annoyed with me." Margaret's chin lifted, and despite the tears still threatening her eyes, her temper began to burn brightly enough to chase them away.

"You are behaving like a spoiled child." His eyes narrowed. "You stormed away from a dance."

"And I am not a child," she shot back, refusing to retreat even when he came another step closer. "You are acting like a distant oaf, and you are no gentleman."

Pierce's mouth curved into a slow, humorless smirk. "I never said I was a gentleman."

Margaret stared at him for a moment before giving a short, incredulous laugh. "That much I know now."

The amusement in his eyes vanished. He studied her more carefully, and his voice softened despite the tension between them. "Then tell me why you are behaving this way."

The question struck far too close to the truth. Margaret looked away, pretending fascination with the gardens while her heart twisted painfully beneath her ribs.