The Last Duke (Thornton 1)

“Leave her alone!” Springing forward, Daphne snatched Prudence in her arms, darting away from her father’s impending assault.

The rope snapped.

“Look out!” a workman shouted.

It was too late.

The heavy wooden beam crashed down, smashing full force onto Tragmore’s head.

Silently, he crumpled.

23

“I SHOULD MOURN HIM. But I don’t.”

Daphne stared out over Markham’s gardens, gripping the rail of the morning room balcony.

“No, sweetheart, you shouldn’t.” Pierce wrapped his arms about her from behind. “We only mourn those who are deserving. Tragmore was a monster. Death cannot alter that fact.”

Turning into her husband’s arms, Daphne closed her eyes. “I’ll never forget how horribly he died,” she whispered. “His skull crushed beneath that beam.”

“No, you won’t,” Pierce agreed, grateful that he’d shielded Daphne from viewing her father’s mangled body firsthand. The memory of his gruesome death would dim that much faster with no hellish image to haunt her. “You won’t forget,” Pierce murmured again, pressing her closer, “but it’s been a mere week. In time the pain of remembering will ease. Trust me. There are things I never dreamed I could recover from, and I have.”

Daphne tilted back her head. “Father poured out horrid admissions to you that day, and yet, rather than becoming enraged, you seemed vindicated. As if all the anger were draining from within vou.”

“It was.” Pierce threaded his fingers through Daphne’s hair, a look of wonder in his eyes. “I never would have believed it myself. For years I’ve plotted, envisioning that final confrontation, the day I would reveal to Tragmore all I knew while bringing the scoundrel to his knees. I mentally enacted the scene hundreds, perhaps thousands, of times. Had you asked then, I would have sworn I’d die before conceding to his demands. But when that day of reckoning finally arrived, when I confronted my past head on, I suddenly discovered it no longer mattered. Because I now have something more powerful than hatred to live for. And that something is right here in my arms.”

Daphne rose up to kiss him, her gaze filled with pride and love. “Your boundless courage never fails to astound me. Of all the magnificent deeds you’ve performed as Pierce Thornton and as the Tin Cup Bandit I think relinquishing your past is the most heroic.” She lay her hand against his jaw. “Our babe might not yet realize it, but his father is an extraordinary man.”

A shadow crossed Pierce’s face.

“You’re thinking of your own father,” Daphne ventured.

“It’s the only piece of the past I have yet to come to terms with, perhaps because I don’t fully understand it,” Pierce admitted quietly. “And after the things Tragmore said last week—” Wearily, he rubbed his temples. “I don’t know what to think.”

“It did sound as if your father was perhaps not quite the monster you believed him to be,” Daphne suggested.

“He turned his back on me, damn it!”

“That indicates weakness, not cruelty.” Daphne clutched her husband’s forearms, determined to complete his healing process, to offer him the peace he craved. “Pierce, you told me yourself the late duke seemed disinterested whenever he and Father met with Barrings, that Markham spent most of his time wandering about the workhouse—‘merely looking,’ were your exact words. My father’s boast just before he died confirmed what you and I had already concluded. Markham’s visits to the House of Perpetual Hope were solely to assure himself of your well being. Compensation was certainly not a factor—not when he was losing money by paying Father to conduct the illegal dealings with Barrings. Nor was cruelty a factor.” Seeing Pierce’s puzzled look, she added, “When you accused Father of thrashing the workhouse children, did you not contend that he’d returned to do so on occasions other than his weekly meetings with Barrings?”

Slowly, Pierce nodded.

“Was the late duke present during those beatings?”

“No.”

“So there’s every reason to assume he knew nothing about them.” Daphne counted off on her fingers. “Consequently, it appears your father accepted no payments, struck no children, and had no active interest in keeping Barrings in the headmaster’s office. Nor was he aware of Barrings’s and Father’s brutal treatment during his absence. He only wanted a reason to see his son. No, Pierce, that is not the behavior of an uncaring man. Only a vulnerable one.”

“True.” Pierce inhaled sharply. “Which brings to mind the one unanswered question that continues to plague me. Tragmore claimed he blackmailed Markham to keep him involved in the workhouse scheme.”

“I remember.” Daphne nodded thoughtfully. “Father said Markham lost interest, presumably when you ran away from the workhouse, and he found the means to rekindle that interest.”

“Yes, but with what did he blackmail him? What threat did he use? Damn!” Pierce released Daphne and turned away, a tormented look in his eyes. “Over and over we continue to speculate. But that’s all it is, speculation. I wish I knew what Markham had been thinking. Perhaps then I could find some peace.”

“I believe I can help you on that score.”

Both Pierce and Daphne turned to see Hollingsby standing in the doorway.