Page 74 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

"Then," she said lightly, "you ought to remember that I am capable of surprising you."

Pierce's gaze remained fixed upon her. "I have already learned that lesson, Duchess.”

CHAPTER 18

Pierce remained beside Margaret in the quiet warmth of the bedchamber, one arm resting comfortably around her as the fire burned low in the grate. The intimacy of the moment felt strangely peaceful, so different from the heated arguments that seemed to define most of their conversations.

Margaret rested her head against his shoulder, and for several minutes neither spoke, until she shifted nervously and glanced up at him.

"May I ask you something?" she murmured, her fingers absently tracing a fold in the coverlet.

Pierce looked down at her. "You have never required permission before."

Her lips curved. "Why can you not always be as likeable as you are when we are like this?"

A quiet chuckle escaped him. "I am always unlikeable, Duchess. You simply enjoy yourself too much during our intimate moments to notice."

Margaret's cheeks warmed, but she smiled. "I suppose I do enjoy myself."

Pierce's amusement deepened. "I knew it."

He looked down at her for a moment, struck by how different she seemed when she was relaxed. The sharp wit remained, but there was a softness beneath it that he had begun to recognize.

"Goddess Flora," he murmured, and Margaret immediately rolled her eyes.

"Must you?" she asked, though there was laughter in her voice.

"I have been wondering something," he continued, ignoring her complaint. "Why Flora? Was there a particular reason you chose that costume for my masquerade?"

Margaret considered the question before answering. "Margaret means daisy in French," she explained, smoothing a wrinkle in the sheet. "My mother adored flowers. She thought flowers represented different qualities in women, so she gave all three of us names associated with them."

Pierce's brow lifted. "And you chose Flora because of her?"

"Partly," Margaret admitted, her expression becoming wistful. "I think I wanted to feel close to her that night."

Pierce's expression changed almost imperceptibly. He had heard very little about Margaret's mother, and suddenly he wanted to know more.

"How old were you when you lost her?" he asked, his voice quieter.

Margaret looked towards the fire. "Thirteen."

The answer was simple, but Pierce could hear the weight behind it. "That is very young."

Margaret nodded. "It was difficult, but Iris and Camelia were wonderful. They did everything they could to fill the space she left behind. They were not Mother, of course, but they cared for me and protected me when they might easily have been thinking only of themselves."

Pierce watched the fondness in her expression and felt something unfamiliar tug at him. He understood suddenly why she seemed so naturally drawn to Hugh.

She knows what it means to lose the person who was supposed to make the world feel safe.

Margaret was quiet for a moment before turning towards him. "What about your mother?" she asked.

Pierce's body stiffened slightly. He had expected the question eventually, but not tonight, not while the room was so peaceful.

"I was too young to remember her," he answered.

Margaret's expression softened. "You do not remember her at all?"

"No." He stared at the fire. "She died when I was very young."