Page 50 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

Margaret covered her face with both hands. "You are a duchess now," she muttered sternly. "Try behaving like one."

The room, unhelpfully, offered no advice.

She lowered her hands and stared at the door through which he had just disappeared. She could still feel the warmth of his chest beneath her palm, and the memory sent another foolish flutter through her stomach.

"Oh, this is going to be a disaster," she murmured.

And for once, Margaret suspected her instincts were entirely correct.

* * *

Pierce had spent the better part of the morning ensuring that the nursery was in perfect order, which was absurd when he considered that Hugh was one year old and therefore entirely incapable of appreciating the distinction between a properly arranged room and one in which a book had been left upon the wrong table.

Nevertheless, Pierce insisted upon order, particularly where his son was concerned. The fire had been lit, the breakfast tray prepared, the nursery aired, and the nanny instructed several times on the precise routine he expected her to follow.

By the time Margaret was due to arrive, Pierce had already inspected everything twice. He told himself it was because the first meeting between his wife and his son mattered. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted everything to go perfectly.

Margaret appeared several minutes later, and Pierce's first thought was that she looked entirely too alluring for eight o'clock in the morning. Her dark hair had been arranged simply, with a few soft strands framing her face, and the pale morning gown she wore suited her remarkably well. He stared for half a second longer than was proper before remembering himself. "You are late," he said instead, his voice deliberately cool.

Margaret paused in the doorway and stared at him. "Good morning to you as well."

"It is nearly ten minutes past eight."

"And I was under the impression that most people were still asleep at this hour," she said.

"Hugh was."

She blinked. "Was?"

Pierce gestured towards the nanny, who stood beside the small table near the window. "He has only just fallen asleep again."

The nanny smiled apologetically. "He took a few bites of breakfast, Your Grace, and then decided he did not want to eat."

Margaret looked at Pierce. Pierce looked at the nanny. The nanny glanced towards the porridge.

"He has inherited your manners," Margaret observed.

Pierce slowly turned his head towards her. "I beg your pardon?"

"He has clearly decided that breakfast is best eaten when he decides to eat it."

The nanny lowered her head, hiding a smile.

Pierce ignored both of them. "How long has he been asleep?"

"Only a few minutes, Your Grace," the nanny replied.

"Then we shall try again tomorrow morning."

Margaret frowned. "Why tomorrow?"

Pierce gave her a measured look. "Because he has only just gone to sleep."

"But surely he shall wake again soon."

"He might."

"Then why can we not wait?"