How to Steal a Thief's Heart - Bree Wolf Page 0,18

in which Pierce could feel fat raindrops all but bounce off the wet step and splash onto his breeches, the door creaked open. “Lord Markham!” Mr. Cameron exclaimed, his small eyes going wide as he pulled open the door with a rapid motion, all but slamming it into the wall. “I wouldn’t have expected you so late nor in this weather.” Flustered, he offered to take Pierce’s coat before inviting him into his office.

Mr. Cameron was a shrewd, if a bit overwrought, man. He tended to fidget, his fingers always finding some button to turn and twist until it popped off. Most people found him odd, and he had been struggling as a solicitor when their paths had crossed.

“Your letter suggested that it was a matter of some importance,” Pierce replied, seating himself in the somewhat spindly-looking chair across from Mr. Cameron’s desk. Ledgers and books were stacked high upon it, and Pierce wondered if anyone had ever lost their life to one of those towers caving in.

“It is. It is,” mumbled Mr. Cameron as his fingers flew over the papers on his desk. There was no sign of hesitation or indecision on his face, suggesting he knew very well what he was looking for and where to find it. “Ah!” he exclaimed after barely a moment before he seated himself, his gaze focusing as he looked across his crammed desk at Pierce. “I received a letter regarding a Mr. Sparks.”

Pierce’s insides contorted painfully as he all but held his breath.

“Unfortunately,” Mr. Cameron continued, his small eyes blinking rapidly, revealing his own anxiety with the subject at hand, “I must inform you that he has passed on.”

Exhaling, Pierce closed his eyes. “When?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“How?”

Mr. Cameron sighed. “It doesn’t say.”

Deep down, Pierce had known it would be Peter. It had to be for the doctors had told him year after year that he would not live much longer. It had to do with fluid collecting in his lungs. And yet, Peter had lived, year after year, defying their predictions, defying Fate. Pierce could not deny that a part of him had believed Peter would outlive him after all. “Can I see the letter?”

“Certainly.”

The handwriting was like the man himself, full of zest, charging ahead without thought before fatigue got the better of him, tripping him up and landing him head-first in the dirt.

Pierce missed him.

My dearest friend,

We both knew this day would eventually come. If you’re reading this, then you know that Fate has finally caught up with me. I ran to the end of the world to escape it or at least prolong it, but I always knew that, at some point, it would catch up to me.

But darn it, I lived!

Pierce smiled as an image of his old friend drifted into his mind, his fist raised in resistance as he declared he would not lie down and die. He would live.

And he had.

He had lived and loved.

What more could a man want?

I have no regrets. But I would make a request of you, if you don’t mind? As though you could refuse a dead man, right?

Unable not to, Pierce chuckled, dimly aware of Mr. Cameron’s brows drawing down in bewilderment.

A few years past, a sickness swept through our village. As though it was a sick twist of Fate, it left me alive, but claimed my darling wife instead as well as most of her family. The only one to survive was her little sister, Charlaine. You might remember her.

Pierce swallowed, recalling the strong-headed, young girl with the chocolate-brown eyes. “Charlie,” he whispered, wondering what it had done to one so young to lose all she’d loved.

She’s not yet twenty years of age and all alone in the world. These past few years, we’ve stuck together, she and I, but now I’m gone. I know she is strong and capable, a bit mule-headed, too, but she still needs someone even though she would never admit it. Would you look after her for me? There is nothing left here for her. I think a fresh start would do her good. Perhaps it can do for her what it did for me. I want her to be happy again.

“How did you receive this letter?” Pierce asked, looking up at Mr. Cameron.

The old man’s gaze dropped and, once more, he shuffled through some papers. “It was sent by a solicitor in Kingston.”

Pierce inhaled a deep breath. “Write to him and have him make travel arrangements for a Miss Charlaine Palmer. Spare no