Page 5 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

"You call this compassion?" Margaret demanded.

"I do."

He bowed again. "You shall have seven days to become accustomed to the idea."

With that, Geoffrey turned and walked from the room.

She could hear her father's voice speaking her name, but the words seemed distant beneath the pounding of her heart. The last time a man had tried to decide her future, Camelia had stepped forward and saved her from it. She knew with absolute certainty that she would not endure it again.

Margaret straightened slowly.

I am not that helpless girl anymore.

She needed something so scandalous that no respectable man would dare marry her, something public enough that the contract would become useless. It needed to be unmistakable, undeniable, and impossible to conceal.

A reckless idea formed.

I need to ruin myself.

CHAPTER 2

Your late wife kept a secret. Host a masquerade ball, and I shall reveal it.

Pierce stood behind his desk, staring at the anonymous letter. He read it twice, his mismatched eyes narrowing as a familiar chill settled over him.

There was no signature, no explanation, nothing that indicated who had written it or how the writer knew anything about Augusta.

He rose abruptly and strode from the study, the letter folded tightly in one hand.

"Mrs Norris," he called, his deep voice carrying through the corridor. His housekeeper appeared moments later, composed as ever, a woman of sixty who had served the Ravenfield estate since childhood and knew more about its inhabitants than most would ever dare confess.

"Where did this letter come from?" Pierce asked, holding it towards her. "There is no mark upon the seal, and I want to know precisely how it reached this house."

Mrs. Norris adjusted her spectacles before examining the letter. "It arrived with the afternoon correspondence, Your Grace," she replied, returning it carefully. "The messenger brought a stack of letters as he does every day. Nothing appeared unusual about it."

Pierce frowned, and she watched him with the sharp understanding that had made her indispensable to the household. "If I may say so, Your Grace, you look as though someone has just informed you that the roof is about to collapse."

"Something considerably worse may have happened," Pierce replied darkly.

He returned his gaze to the letter, and memories he had spent two years trying to bury rose with painful clarity. Augusta Fitz, daughter of the Earl of Dawkster, had been his wife, though theirs had never been a marriage of affection. She had fled Ravenfield Manor while carrying their child, and Pierce had never seen her again.

Her death had left him with questions he could not answer and a haunting sense that he had failed to protect her. Now this anonymous writer claimed Augusta had kept a secret, and demanded that he gather half of London beneath masks if he wished to learn it.

A knock sounded before Pierce could speak again. Mrs. Norris turned towards the door and opened it, revealing a young gentleman with dark brown hair, green eyes, and the careless confidence of a man who had spent his life avoiding responsibility.

"His Lordship, Nathaniel Vernon, Earl of Brydges," she announced.

"Nathaniel," Pierce greeted, his expression softening only slightly as his best friend entered.

At twenty-six, Nathaniel was the second son of the Duke of Northton and had spent most of his life living in the shadow of his flawless elder brother, which had encouraged him to become a celebrated rake rather than attempt to compete.

"Mrs Norris, we shall dine early tonight. Lord Brydges will be joining me."

Nathaniel arched a brow as he removed his gloves. "I am? Well then, that sounds good to me, as long as we have port before. I could use a libation."

"You are going to need something stronger," Pierce said, turning towards the study. "When I show you what arrived today, you may require the entire bottle."

Nathaniel's amusement faded slightly. "That sounds intriguing."