The Last Duke (Thornton 1)

“Keep the jewels—and the money you make on them.”

“Why?”

Pierce grinned, already halfway out the door. “Don’t you know a gift when you’re handed one?”

He was gone before Thompson could reply.

12

TRAGMORE WAS IN THE foulest of tempers when he stormed into the manor in the mid afternoon, still irked by having been dragged into an unproductive two-day excursion to London. Hollingsby’s missive had led him to believe that the insurance claim on his stolen jewels was finalized, when all the solicitor really needed were more signatures on yet more documents.

If he weren’t so eager to avoid another meeting with Thornton, he would have discharged Hollingsby on the spot and taken his leave. As it was, however, he’d stayed and signed the bloody papers—whatever purpose they served—and lingered in Town, hoping against hope that his remuneration would be expedited.

It wasn’t.

“Where are the marchioness and Lady Daphne?” he barked now, spying his butler.

“The marchioness wasn’t expecting you for several hours, my lord,” the servant replied. “But I believe she is in her chambers. Lady Daphne has yet to return to Tragmore.”

“Return? Return from where?”

“I don’t know, sir. As I advised the duke, she didn’t tell me her destination, nor did I see her leave. It was quite early.”

“The duke?” A vein throbbed in Tragmore’s temple.

“The Duke of Markham, my lord. He was here at dawn, asking for both you and Lady Daphne.”

“Why the hell would he want to see my daughter?” Tragmore didn’t wait for an answer. He was already heading down the hall toward the staircase.

Taking the steps two at a time, he rounded the second-floor landing and, an instant later, flung open the door to his wife’s bedchamber.

“Harwick!” Elizabeth rose from her needlepoint, surprise and fear mixing on her face. “You’ve arrived home earlier than expected.”

“Evidently.” He shut the door behind him. “Where is Daphne?”

Elizabeth wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I told her you wouldn’t be home until late. Otherwise, I’m sure she’d be—”

“I didn’t ask you why she wasn’t here!” he snapped. “I asked you where she was.”

Silence.

“Has she gone to visit that miserable vicar again?”

“I’m not certain prec

isely where she is,” Elizabeth replied truthfully.

“Really? Then suppose I ride to the village. I’m confident I can locate her.”

“He’s her only friend, Harwick.” Elizabeth’s eyes beseeched him. “There can be no harm if she spends a few hours at the church.”

Rage ignited and spread swiftly through the marquis’s being. “She’s been away from the manor since dawn. By now, knowing Daphne’s pathetically soft heart, Chambers has doubtless convinced her to join him in yet another of his blasphemous crusades for the poor. Well, I’ve warned her one time too many.” He turned on his heel. “This time is the last.”

“Harwick, wait!” Elizabeth grabbed his arm. “Please don’t.”

He flung her aside. “Get out of my way!”

“For God’s sake, let her be,” she pleaded, recovering her balance. “Give her a chance to be happy.”