Page 99 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

She lowered her eyes to her glass and forced her voice to remain pleasant. "Thank you for the message, Mrs. Norris."

The housekeeper curtsied and withdrew, closing the door softly behind her. Margaret remained perfectly still for several seconds, staring at the doorway as though Pierce might materialize there out of guilt alone.

He did not.

"Oh, very well," she murmured, placing her glass upon the table with considerably more force than necessary. "How perfectly charming of him."

She began pacing across the room, her slippers whispering over the carpet as her irritation grew with every circuit. He had not merely chosen to dine elsewhere; he had sent Mrs. Norris to deliver the message like some distant monarch informing his subjects of a change in royal policy.

"He cannot even tell me himself," she grumbled, waving one hand dramatically. "Apparently the Duchess of Ravenfield is not worthy of a conversation about supper."

By the fourth turn across the room, she had worked herself into a magnificent fury. The sensible part of her mind suggested that Pierce might genuinely be busy, but Margaret had no intention of listening to that sensible part. It had been far too reasonable lately. She had spent days trying not to provoke him, trying to respect the alterations he had made to his household rules, and trying not to think about the fact that he had kissed her and then walked away as though doing so had meant nothing.

"And now he avoids me," she declared to the empty room. "Excellent. Perfectly reasonable. Why marry a woman if one intends never to speak to her?"

The next thing she knew, she was marching through the corridor with such determination that a passing footman flattened himself against the wall to let her pass. Margaret barely noticed him. She reached Pierce’s study, pushed open the door without knocking, and strode inside.

Pierce sat behind his desk surrounded by papers, his expression dark enough to frighten lesser women. Margaret was not a lesser woman. She did not even bother with a greeting.

"Why are you avoiding me?" she demanded, planting herself before his desk. "You could not even tell me yourself that you intended to dine alone?"

Pierce slowly lifted his gaze from the document before him. "Good evening to you as well, Duchess."

"Do not mock me."

"I was not aware that speaking civilly constituted mockery." He leaned back in his chair, his face unreadable. "I have work to complete, Margaret. I had no desire to interrupt you merely to announce that I would be working."

"You could have told me."

"I have now."

"Through Mrs. Norris."

"Yes."

Margaret folded her arms. "You are impossible."

"So I have been informed, very often," he said.

"And deliberately irritating."

"Occasionally."

"And cold."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you finished?"

"No." She stepped closer to the desk. "You have been avoiding me ever since…" She stopped herself before saying the word kiss. "Ever since our last conversation."

Pierce's jaw tightened. "I have been busy."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I expect you to leave me to my work."

"Well, that is unfortunate, because I am standing here instead."

Something flickered in his eyes. Margaret recognized it immediately. It was the same dangerous spark she had seen before, the one that made her heart beat faster despite her determination to remain angry.