note.
He’d not dismissed it.
Indeed, the Black Baron made her nervous, far more than Caroline liked to admit.
Chapter Six
A Friend’s Request
He arrived in London in the pouring rain.
With the cold season trapping him at Markham Hall, granting Daphne countless opportunities to force him into yet another tea party with that hairless doll of hers, Pierce had looked forward to a brisk ride back to London. The day had started out so promising, not a cloud in the sky.
And now this.
He was soaked from head to toe.
Albert, his ancient-looking butler with the nonexistent brows, cast him a disapproving look as Pierce left puddle after puddle on his way across the foyer. “Sorry, old man,” he apologized, knowing how deeply upsetting Albert found anything out of the ordinary.
Anything that wasn’t quite as it should be.
“Not to worry, my lord,” Albert assured him. Still, the look on his face disagreed.
Pierce laughed, knowing well the good heart that beat in the old man’s chest.
Outwardly, he often appeared cold and frightening—no doubt due to his missing brows, which gave him a very stern look! However, Albert was a deeply empathetic man who’d been dismissed from his previous position after his daughter’s untimely death had thrown him off course. He’d grieved deeply, unable to fulfill his duties and been dismissed within a week. Pierce had come upon him one night upon returning home, sitting out on the curb in front of his former master’s townhouse, not knowing where to turn.
Albert had been a mere shadow of himself. Pierce had been furious, offering the old man a position within his own home before setting out a few nights later to teach Lord Huffington, Albert’s former employer, a much-needed lesson.
Indeed, the man had been most attentive with a pistol pointed at his forehead.
After a warm bath, Pierce donned dry clothes and called for his carriage, his solicitor’s letter safely tucked away in his pocket.
“Will you return in time for supper, my lord?” Albert asked as Pierce stepped off the landing and made to cross the foyer, once again free of puddles.
“I cannot be certain, Albert,” Pierce replied as he slipped on a coat and hat. “Do not wait up. I’ll let myself in.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
Casting the man a grateful smile, Pierce strode out the door and toward his waiting carriage.
As the carriage’s wheels sloshed through the wet streets, Pierce wondered what had prompted Mr. Cameron to send him such an urgent letter without adding further details. He could only hope nothing disastrous had happened. After all, he couldn’t imagine what it could be.
His own father had been shot in a duel some fifteen years ago, starting the first dark rumors that still lingered about his family name. His mother had passed away five years later after catching pneumonia. Neither loss had shattered Pierce for he had never spent much time with his parents. They’d been strangers, ignoring him his entire life.
As an only child, he’d grown up on his own, finding companionship, the echo of family, not through blood relations, but rather through friendships. Men he’d met in different phases of his life had become as close to him as brothers.
Ash was one of them, his childhood friend, the man who knew him like no other.
Pembroke had the potential to be another. They didn’t always agree and, at times, the man’s moods rankled Pierce, but he could not deny that he felt a certain protectiveness toward him as he would a younger brother.
Then there was Peter, a sickly, young man he’d met in the Caribbean.
After his grand tour, Pierce had not wished to return home. He had decided to extend his journey to the far shores of America. In Jamaica, he’d met Peter Sparks. He’d been an officer in his Majesty’s service. Once he’d set foot on Jamaica, he’d lost his heart to a dark-haired beauty and never left.
Pierce had always admired him for his courage to start over, marveling at the utter faith he’d always seen in Peter’s eyes. Never had he feared what might come, always certain that things would work themselves out.
The rain was still pelting down as the carriage pulled to a halt outside his solicitor’s office. He glanced at the overcast sky, heavy dark clouds lingering that promised more rain still. Pulling his coat tighter about his shoulders, Pierce alighted from the carriage, large strides carrying him across the pavement and up to his solicitor’s door. Fortunately, a small overhang kept away most of the rain as he knocked.
After a small eternity,