The Last Duke (Thornton 1)

For a full minute Pierce stared blankly at the empty niche where the stone had been. Then he acted, yanking out the contents of the drawer one by one, tossing them haphazardly about the room as he groped in every emptied space, every vacant corner. Nothing.

Frantically, he searched his mind for an explanation.

“It’s with your cravats.”

Pierce pivoted about, staring at his wife.

Daphne sat up, pointing helpfully at Pierce’s double chest of drawers. “In there. Oh, I realized your hiding place was only temporary. Still, I remember how easily you found my smelling salts and my journal. The nightstand drawer is far too risky, even for a few hours. So I moved the emerald. You needn’t panic. It’s quite safe.”

“You—” Pierce’s mouth opened and closed several times. “How did you find it?” he asked inanely.

“I was on my way in to speak with you. I saw you place the jewel in the nightstand, then go downstairs to brood. I knew I had plenty of time to find a more suitable hiding spot, since I fully intended to wait here for you, even if it took all night.” She sighed. “Heaven knows, I’ve waited too long already; borne your suffering as long as I could. Evidently, you were never going to come to me. My only choice, therefore, was to go to you.”

In stunned silence, Pierce crossed the room to his double chest, yanking open the drawer that housed his cravats.

“Beneath the folded pile in the back,” Daphne instructed.

An instant later his hand emerged, clasping the Selbert emerald.

He turned the brilliant gem over and over in his palms, watching its facets shoot prisms of light through the semi-darkened room.

“You’ve known?”

“Yes.”

“How long?” he asked, his tone deadly quiet. “Damn it. How long have you known?”

“Since the night you robbed Tragmore.”

“Since the—” He turned, his expression utterly incredulous. “I was dressed completely in black, from my boots to my hood, with a mask that covered my entire face. I even disguised my voice.”

Daphne smiled. “No one else moves like you, Pierce. You’re a panther, carefully restrained yet ready to strike; agile, dangerous, exhilaratingly charismatic. You affect me as no other man ever has or ever will. And your eyes—not only the unique green hue, but their intensity, even when lit by a single taper. ’Tis you who claim my instincts are flawless. How could you imagine I wouldn’t know you?”

He shook his head in amaz

ement. “And all this time—When I found that journal, vented my jealousy like a madman, you said nothing, let me go on and on.”

“I was waiting for you to tell me.” Daphne propped her chin on her knees, inclining her head quizzically. “When did you finally intend to do that?”

Pierce’s fingers clutched the emerald so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Today. Tonight. Never. I don’t know.” He strode over to the bed, sitting down beside her.

“In light of the numerous opportunities I’ve given you, the answer is clearly never.” Daphne drew a shaky breath, a pained look crossing her face. “Why, Pierce? Why would you choose not to tell me? You love me. Despite your past, I believed you trusted me as well.”

“I do trust you.” Pierce caught her chin, lifted it to meet his gaze. “Have you any idea how much I wanted to share this with you?”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Daphne, what I do is illegal. I could hang for it and so could you, if the authorities ever suspected you aid me in any way.” His thumb stroked her lips. “I swore to keep you safe. I intend to keep that vow.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I want you safe as well.” Daphne leaned forward, her expression earnest as she gripped Pierce’s shoulders. “I love you. The thought of losing you—” Her lips trembled. “I couldn’t bear it.”

“Precisely my dilemma.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “Until you, Snow flame, I had nothing to lose, nothing to live for. Now I have both. But the children. You told me yourself I was their hero. Who else do they have? Who else can they believe in?”

“There are other ways.”