How to Steal a Thief's Heart - Bree Wolf Page 0,37

chased each other through the snow. Miss Glass, Daphne’s governess, as well as her own four-year-old daughter, Susan, had joined them as well, their cheeks aglow from the cold.

“She looks utterly happy,” Miss Glass remarked as they walked side by side, her pale blond hair tugged back, oddly reminding him of his little, grey mouse. “She hasn’t had a nightmare in a few weeks.”

Pierce sighed, wishing they would never return. “I’m grateful for your diligent care,” he told her, casting her a thankful smile. “You make her feel safe.”

The young woman dropped her gaze, a deep smile coming to her gentle features. “It is I who should be thank—”

“No!” Pierce interrupted her in a harsh tone, his gaze focused on the two girls throwing snowballs at each other, laughing and giggling when they lost their footing and fell head-first into the snow. Donahue’s booming laughter echoed across the clearing as if he were a giant.

Then Pierce sighed and met her gaze. “I apologize for the outburst.”

Miss Glass shook her head. “There’s no need, my lord. I only meant to say that—”

“I know,” he interrupted yet again. “But I am equally grateful that you are here, you and Susan. You’ve brought laughter and joy to this house, and that was exactly what Daphne needed.”

Not long after Pierce had taken Daphne into his home, he’d stumbled upon young Miss Glass upon returning from one of his nightly excursions. Then, it had been the depth of winter as well, and she’d stood shivering in the cold, her little girl wrapped in her arms, with nowhere to turn.

Susan was an illegitimate child, and Miss Glass had been turned out onto the street when her former employer had discovered she was to have her. With odd jobs, the young woman had fought to provide for herself and her daughter. However, unwed mothers rarely appealed to the generous, giving side in people. Most had done nothing but judge and scorn her, not willing to lift a finger.

Like Albert and Miss Glass, Donahue had suffered a similar fate. He’d lost his arm in a fire, trying to save his employer’s little son. Although the boy had survived, Donahue had been dismissed after he could no longer perform the tasks expected of him.

Few people of the upper class ever looked past their own lives and, over the past few years, Pierce had developed a deep disdain for his peers with only a handful exceptions.

“I shall gobble you up, my little rabbits!” Donahue boomed as he chased after the two girls, who shrieked with delight. “Run, run before it’s too late!”

“Mother!” Susan screamed, her brown eyes wide as she ran as fast as her little legs would allow her. Utter excitement rested on her features as she threw herself into her mother’s arms, hiding her face in her skirts.

Daphne, too, shrieked as though the hordes of hell were behind her. “Father! He’s trying to get me! Help!”

For a split second, Pierce tensed, concerned that the game had brought back painful memories. However, the glow in Daphne’s eyes had not dimmed and in-between shrieks, he saw her lips curl up into heartfelt smiles.

Soon, they were all laughing, including Donahue, who soon found himself toppling over into the snow with two little rabbits clinging to him, pulling on his red beard and begging him to chase them again.

Pierce smiled as he looked at the odd constellation of people who’d become—for all intents and purposes—a family here at Markham Hall. They’d all needed each other at one point or another, and they’d all offered help in return. It had been need that had brought them together, but it was affection that kept them here.

Of course, Pierce was aware of the many rumors circulating about his country estate. He had seen expressions of shock on many faces when Donahue received the few guests ever invited at the door, his red beard and missing limb odd attributes in a butler these days. He’d heard vicious rumors about the women he employed, suggesting that their children were his when, in truth, he had simply not seen a reason not to employ a woman merely because she was a mother. In his experience, those treated with respect and kindness—no matter their circumstances—were the most loyal of people.

And in his opinion, everyone deserved a chance to prove themselves.

When the cold finally settled in everyone’s bones, they returned to the house, their arms laden with freshly-cut branches. A cup of hot tea and a biscuit or two from