The Last Duke (Thornton 1)

But feel them he did.

Instantly, Daphne sensed his indecision. “I’ll wear my deep purple gown. The color is so dark it will be indiscernible by night. I’ll hide my hair, pull a hooded mask over my head. Only my slight build will enable people to tell us apart.”

Her final claim made Pierce chuckle, his gaze raking her very feminine, very naked curves. “You won’t win on that argument, sweetheart. I assure you, people would have no trouble differentiating us.”

Daphne flushed. “I’ll be clothed. And I’ll wear a full, black cape. Besides, you’ll be less conspicuous with me along. If need be we can remove our masks and appear to be merely two of Benchley’s house guests.”

A glint of intrigued awareness flared in Pierce’s eyes, then dissipated along with his smile. “Snow flame.” He gathered her close in his arms. “Have you any idea how precious you are to me?”

“Then do this for me,” she urged softly, pressing her lips to his chest. “Take me with you. Let me feel what you do when you best a callous scoundrel like Benchley. Share your joy when workhouse children reap the benefits of your skill. Pierce,” she raised her head, gazed up at him, “please.”

“I must be insane,” he muttered, gathering handfuls of her hair.

Triumph glowed in Daphne’s eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Now remember. Once we leave the carriage in that grove of trees outside the gates—”

“I remember,” Daphne interrupted, gripping her mask in her lap as the horses commenced their final mile to Benchley. With a shiver of excitement, she wrapped her cape more tightly about her. “We go by foot. We don’t speak a word. You have the tools and the pistol concealed in your pocket, and the pouch tucked inside the lining of your coat. We make our way around back, far from the sleeping quarters of the family, guests, and servants. You select the proper window—most likely at the rear of the conservatory—then cut your way inside. After which, you’ll pull me through. We remove our shoes and leave them there. We move from the conservatory directly to the pantry, then to the library and the study. Last, we climb the stairs to the bedchambers.”

“Not we,” Pierce amended her final point, his jaw set. “I. Don’t argue with me, Daphne,” he cut her off swiftly. “Just reaching the manor itself will be challenge enough, given the skill of the guards Benchley boasted of. The house is filled with sleeping people. The slightest noise could waken them. We’ll do the lower floor together. Then you’ll stand guard while I relieve the viscountess of her jewel case and leave the emerald on Benchley’s pillow.”

“What about the guest quarters? Judging from the array of bracelets and necklaces I saw at the ball, the ladies’ jewel cases must be brimming.”

A corner of Pierce’s mouth lifted. “Daring, aren’t you? I fear I’ve created a

monster. Very well, Snow flame. If we accomplish all we’ve discussed without incident, we’ll visit the guest wing. You’ll remain at the head of the hall while I appropriate whatever trinkets I can.”

“Excellent.”

“And to think I worried that you cared for the bandit. In truth, you were living vicariously through him.”

“Both,” Daphne clarified, caressing Pierce’s arm. “I was and I do.” An impish grin. “You’re very potent in black.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Sobering, Pierce transferred the reins to one hand, wrapped the other arm about Daphne’s waist. “Do everything precisely as I do. Follow my lead, just in case any details of our plan need to be suddenly altered. And Snow flame, most of all, be careful. Exciting or not, this is no game. It’s very real. And very dangerous.”

“I realize that. I won’t disappoint you. Heaven knows, you’ve never disappointed me.” Her own words sparked a thought. “Speaking of which, though this is hardly the time, I want to thank you for taking Sarah in. It meant a great deal to me.”

“I could see that.” Pierce cast a brief sidelong glance at his wife. “I have the feeling your commitment to Sarah involves more than just sympathy for her plight.”

“It does. It will for you as well.” Daphne studied her husband’s hard profile. “Sarah and I have met before. I didn’t realize it at first, not until I burst into her chamber.” Seeing Pierce’s brows draw in question, she explained. “When I left you at the ball, I stumbled upon an ugly scene between Sarah and Lady Benchley, a scene that resulted in Sarah’s dismissal. My heart went out to her.”

“So you followed her to offer comfort,” Pierce supplied tenderly.

“Yes. Then when I saw her at close range—those eyes—” Daphne swallowed. “Pierce, she was the girl I described to you, the one I saw clutching the tattered doll when I was eight and my father dragged me to the workhouse.”

Pierce’s head jerked around, brittle realization erupting in his mind. “You’re telling me Sarah grew up in the House of Perpetual Hope?”

“Yes. Her mother abandoned her there, then took her own life. Sarah has never had anyone to rely upon. This was my chance. Yours and my chance.”

“Without a doubt. You did the right thing.”

“I wanted to invite her as our guest. But she’s far too proud to accept charity. So I thought, since she taught herself proper English, she could do the same for the children at Markham. Think of the example she’ll set, the hope she’ll offer.”

Pierce brushed his lips across Daphne’s head. “My beautiful, compassionate snow flame.”

“I intended to divulge all this to you at dawn, directly after we’d finished planning tonight’s robbery, but—” She blushed.

“But we forgot everything except each other,” he concluded in a husky tone of remembered intimacy.