Page 47 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

He would not admit it to Margaret, but he had led her to Lady Darren to see how Margaret would react to her cold nature. It was a test of a Duchess' strengths.

Margaret possessed a remarkable ability to remain perfectly composed while simultaneously dismantling an insult with such graceful wit that the offender often did not realize what had happened until several moments later. She answered questions intelligently, spoke with confidence, and never once allowed Lady Darren's haughty manner to make her retreat into silence. Pierce found himself admiring her more with every passing minute.

She is articulate, clever, and entirely too spirited for her own good, yet she possesses enough social awareness to know precisely how far she can push before she crosses a line.

When Lady Darren finally moved on to speak with another guest, Pierce leaned slightly towards Margaret. "You appear to have survived."

Margaret looked up at him. "Was that meant to be difficult?"

"For most people, yes, but not you," he said.

She smiled. "Perhaps the Darrens were simply not as terrifying as everyone claims."

Pierce glanced after the family. "My dear, Lady Darren once made a baron apologize for the color of his waistcoat."

Margaret's eyes widened. "What color was it?"

"Yellow."

"Then perhaps the baron deserved it," she laughed.

Pierce stared at her for a moment before a reluctant smile touched his mouth. "You are bold."

"I have been told that before," she said.

He could not help admiring her. Margaret did not need him to rescue her from every uncomfortable conversation. She could hold her own against the sharpest tongues in society, and there was something deeply satisfying about watching her do it. Maybe that was what had first drawn him to the woman behind the Flora mask. She had entered a room filled with men who would have intimidated most young ladies and demanded exactly what she wanted. Now she stood among the vultures of the ton and refused to be devoured.

Pierce eventually moved through the room, accepting congratulations and exchanging polite words with acquaintances he barely remembered inviting. The wedding breakfast continued around them in a haze of conversation, laughter, champagne, and carefully concealed curiosity. Everyone wanted to know about his new duchess. Everyone wanted to know how the marriage had happened so quickly. Pierce had no intention of satisfying their curiosity, and whenever someone approached too closely with an intrusive question, one look from him generally sent them searching for someone less intimidating.

He eventually found Nathaniel near the fireplace, holding a glass of brandy and looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"There you are," Nathaniel said, clapping Pierce on the shoulder. "I was beginning to wonder whether marriage had transformed you into a respectable man."

Pierce gave him a dry look. "It has not."

Nathaniel laughed. "Good. I should hate to lose my oldest companion to domestic virtue."

"There is no danger of that," Pierce replied, accepting a glass from a passing servant. "This marriage has a purpose."

"A purpose?"

"Hugh," Pierce said simply. "That is all that matters. He needs a mother, and Margaret is willing to take that role. Nothing has changed beyond that."

Nathaniel studied him over the rim of his glass. "Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Then I assume you shall continue getting your other needs met elsewhere?"

Pierce's expression hardened slightly. "My other needs are irrelevant."

Nathaniel's grin widened. "Are they? Because Lady Samson appears to disagree."

Pierce followed his friend's gaze across the room and found Lady Samson standing beside her mother, delicately fluttering a coy fan before her face. The moment their eyes met, she lowered the fan just enough to reveal a smile that had undoubtedly been practiced in a mirror.

Pierce felt nothing. "I'm not interested," he said.

Nathaniel raised a brow. "Not even slightly?"