The Last Duke (Thornton 1)

“Are you in discomfort?”

“Pardon me?”

“I asked if you were in discomfort. Your arm seems to be causing you some trouble.” Hollingsby gestured to where Pierce was absently rubbing his shoulder.

“Oh, no, not really. I helped carry in that large desk,” Pierce lied swiftly, pointing with his opposite hand. “I must have strained myself.”

“I see.” Hollingsby waited only until Pierce resumed scanning Colby’s documents before he began strolling nonchalantly about the classroom. “As I was saying, your generosity is admirable. Rarely does one see that type of behavior, except, of course, from the Tin Cup Bandit.” A pause. “Speaking of which, did you happen to read of that cunning thief’s latest escapade? He made off with a fortune of the Viscount Benchley’s jewels and silver. And in the midst of the Christmas party you abandoned, no less. Of course, the reckless fellow was nearly apprehended. Something about a bullet grazing his shoulder.”

Pierce lowered the page he’d been perusing. “Yes, I recall reading about the incident in the Times while I was convalescing.”

“Convalescing? Oh, from your illness, you mean.”

“Hollingsby.” Pierce’s eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at?”

“I? Why nothing. Only that I must admit to having felt some degree of relief that the scoundrel escaped. I must be getting soft in my old age.”

“Indeed.”

Hollingsby fingered one of the drapes, intently studying its intricate pattern. “Were I advising the bandit, I might point out that he is tempting the odds in a most foolish manner. I might suggest that he appraise his assets. And I don’t mean his financial ones. I might even recommend that, having realized all that is truly his, he find some other way to accomplish his purpose, without jeopardizing his freedom, perhaps his very life. And, with a modicum of luck, I might just get through to him.” Sighing, Hollingsby dropped the drape. “Pity I don’t know the fellow.”

“Yes, isn’t it.” At this point, Pierce had abandoned all pretense of reading. “Hollingsby—”

“Do you know, I’ve just remembered an appointment I have in Town,” the solicitor interrupted. He shook his head in apparent disgust, closing his portfolio and heading toward the door. “I don’t know what is happening to my memory these days. Why, I seem to forget things in the blink of an eye.” He halted, turning to regard Pierce quizzically. “What was it we were discussing?” He shrugged. “You see? It’s already left me. Ah well, I suppose it wasn’t important. Was it, Thornton?” Boldly, he met Pierce’s gaze.

A slow smile curved Pierce’s lips. “No, my friend, I don’t believe it was.”

“Good.” Hollingsby gripped the door handle. “Take your time reviewing those papers, by the way. We’ll schedule another meeting

early next week.” A flicker of humor. “Before you begin the sensible, charitable venture of installing the schoolhouse roof.”

21

“LANGLEY, ARE YOU CERTAIN no visitors have arrived at Markham this morning?”

“None, Your Grace,” Langley assured Daphne, gloved hands clasped behind his back.

Shifting impatiently, Daphne chewed her lip. “I sent the missives to Mama and the vicar more than four days ago. ’Tis the fifth day, and it’s nearly noon. Where on earth could they be?” She inclined her head. “Possibly you didn’t hear their carriage?”

“Most unlikely, Madam, given that I’ve not left the entranceway since shortly after dawn.”

Daphne blinked. “Whyever not?”

“With all due respect, Your Grace, I haven’t had the opportunity. I’ve been surveying the drive for approaching guests since your first request at sunrise.”

“Oh, Langley, I apologize.” Daphne was torn somewhere between laughter and embarrassment. “I’ve abused you shamefully. Please, go enjoy some of Cook’s wonderful scones and a cup of tea. I’ll take up the vigil.”

“Indeed you will not, Madam,” the butler countered emphatically. “His Grace left strict instructions that, given the delicacy of your health, you were not to take part in your customary ritual of assisting the staff.”

“The delicacy of my health?” Daphne echoed. “I’m carrying a child, Langley, not a fatal illness.”

Langley flushed at the forthright referral to her pregnancy. “I’m only following orders, Your Grace.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Daphne rolled her eyes. “Very well. I’ll have Cook bring you some refreshment.”

“That would be greatly appreciated. In the interim, I shall continue scrutinizing the entranceway. Should either your mother or the vicar arrive, you can be sure I will locate you at once.”

“Thank you, Langley.” Daphne gave him a grateful smile, then headed down to the kitchen.