No Duke of Mine, page 5
“I cannot help it if you are so easy to tease, Your Grace.” She flicked through to the end of the book.
“You never used to read that fast,” Algernon complained, when she closed the volume.
“I have read this before,” she admitted, but opened the book again. “No matter. I will enjoy it again if we read it together.”
He nodded and produced a pair of spectacles.
“So the Duke of Ravenswood is not immune to old age, either?” she murmured, producing her own.
“So it seems.” Algernon grinned but put his glasses away again. “You know, I have not had the pleasure of listening to your voice these past years. I have missed you dearly.”
A small blush heated her cheeks, and she struggled to contain her pleasure at hearing such an unexpected compliment from him. Usually, most people disliked her habit of reading out loud and claimed it was a detriment to her character, not something to miss.
Maggie began on the first page, and continued to read to her captive audience as the day rolled on. She turned page after page, her voice steady, pretending not to notice the way Algernon watched her lips so closely—like a man captivated by what he sees.
CHAPTER SIX
“I told you that we would pass the stage,” Algernon crowed, nudging her arm so she would lift her head from her book.
Maggie sighed loudly and turned the page. “Yes, you did. As always, the Duke of Ravenswood is correct.”
Algernon frowned at her. He did not like this new habit of Maggie’s—calling him by his title. But he couldn’t seem to insist that she should not do it. Of course, she argued that a family member would only call him by his title, and that such a respectful manner of address was no less than he deserved.
And yet, this was Maggie.
Maggie, who had bested him in mathematics more times than he could count. Maggie, whose knowledge of history at ten had been something terrifying to behold. Maggie, who had challenged him and refused to pretend she wasn’t smarter. And likely, she still was, though she was much better at hiding it now.
They had spent much of the day taking turns to read the book out loud, but eventually he had tired of it. Maggie had read in silence after that and looked to be near the end, thank God. Although whenever she stopped reading, she would, of course, question his insistence that she travel in the comfort of his carriage beyond the next town they’d agreed upon. Insisting she ought to take the mail coach, as she had originally intended to do.
But if she were on the mail coach, and he remained in his carriage alone, he would not be able to talk with her. And he was enjoying that—renewing their acquaintance, catching up on the events of her life, and telling her about the antics of his younger brothers and wider family.
From the little Maggie had revealed about her own life, he was concerned about her father’s disappearance, too, as it did not seem rational. His correspondence to his daughter had always been a constant factor during their estrangement. His old tutor took up a new position every other year, moving from student to student as they outgrew his tutelage.
Algernon had outgrown Mr. Black’s teaching quite quickly, long before the year was up. However, he had not outgrown Maggie’s. Their conversations outside of the classroom, between lessons, had challenged him to expand his education in ways he hadn’t considered possible—nor the way her father had ever suggested, either.
Maggie closed the book and glanced out the window with a sigh. “How much farther?”
“I saw a one-mile marker for a town a few minutes ago,” he promised.
“Good. I need to stretch my legs. And I wonder if this place might happen to have that bookseller your valet mentioned.”
“We will have to wait and see,” he said, glad that he’d decided to stop earlier than planned that day.
“Yes,” she said slowly.
He pointed to the book she’d not been reading. One of her own that was sitting on the top of her well-worn travel case. “May I see that?”
She handed it over, and he studied the front. “I don’t think I’ve read this one.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s yours now, a small repayment for all your help. Read it at your leisure.”
They were still some distance away from London due to the slow speed they were traveling, so he gladly accepted the volume, but not as a repayment or with a mind toward keeping it forever. Maggie seemed to have very little with her. She’d worn the same dress for three days in a row.
“I have other books that I can share from my trunk when we stop next—if you would enjoy reading about farming practices and the husbandry of sheep, that is.”
She laughed. “Well, that would be a change for me. My last subject was just a bit dry.”
“Yes. The temples of faraway countries, as told by an avid explorer,” he read from the spine. “Written by a pretentious gentleman of means, I assume?”
“Yes. I long for the day when I find a book written by a woman traveling with limited funds,” she said. “So many tellings of travels are dry and without essential details a woman needs. Details of life on the road. Costs. Have you traveled?” she asked, glancing his way.
“Unfortunately, my travels have amounted to trips to London and various estates dotted about the English countryside. If I’ve gone anywhere, it has only been through the pages of books like this,” he admitted. He tucked it beside him to read later, then resumed his study of Maggie. “And you? You always talked of going off to explore the world.”
“The dreams of a naïve child. I am well satisfied with my life so far and accept the limitations of it,” she claimed.
Algernon did not quite believe her. “And what limitations would those be?”
“Well, the usual—I’m a woman. Women do not set off on many grand adventures, do they? They stay home and tend a house.”
“So you have a house to manage,” he said, carefully. Maggie had been slow in offering up many personal details of her life so far, especially where she had come from.
“A cottage. Nothing like Ravenswood. My parents had a nice home once, though, and Papa would return there between his teaching engagements for a little while. But then Mama died, and he sold it. I lost count of how many homes I stayed in after that. So when I was twenty, I announced that I would not continue with him anymore.”
“Oh? What led to your decision?”
“The usual problem,” she said.
Algernon frowned, unsure of what that meant, but by the look in her eyes, it was an unpleasant thing and probably involved some scoundrel disappointing her. Was that why she had not married?
“So you made your own life, friends, and neighbors six years ago?” he queried, deciding it prudent not to press her for details of whatever had happened to her just yet.
“I have few acquaintances, although they likely would have disapproved of my search for my father, had I told them of my intentions.”
“They must be worried about your absence?”
“I suppose they could be, in their own way. There’s no one else to read their correspondence for them with me gone. It’s really the only place I know now. Everywhere else I’ve lived is just a vague memory.”
“Even Ravenswood?” he asked.
“I remember some of it. The mahogany staircase and you screaming blue murder are clearest.”
“That’s probably because Stratford kept riding the banister down to the entrance hall. He was five. I was always running after him, trying to catch him before he broke his neck. I remember you there very well,” he admitted. “You had a small chamber of your own in the attic, and you were always sitting at the windows, reading instead of coming out to play.”
“Well, that is what young ladies of tutors are expected to do when there are no other girls to play with. Be quiet. Don’t draw attention to myself. Don’t forget my father’s position depends on making a good impression with everyone. My father expected me to behave,” she reminded him. “You’re a fine one to talk, though. You often sat out in the garden against a tree, your nose stuck in a book, too, ignoring your brothers pushing and shoving each other around.”
He grinned. “You eventually came out to sit beside me and learned to ignore my brothers as well.”
“I never really understood their games, to be honest. At that age, it all seemed so silly trying to wrestle each other to the ground.”
He laughed. “Yes, well, they had boundless energy. As the eldest, I was responsible for them. I had to invent excuses to make my brothers run around so that when it was time for their lessons or lectures, they would sit still for them.”
“You, however, did not need any urging to sit still for lessons or lectures?”
“I think I did, especially if the tutor was inferior to what I expected. I had one tutor who tried to assure me that it was possible to sail across the ocean and fall off the edge of the world.”
“Good grief,” she said. “Wasn’t that theory disproved long ago?”
“Well, clearly he missed that announcement.” He drew closer. “And what of you? Did you ever try your hand at teaching?”
“Goodness, no. My father would never have permitted me to have an occupation.”
Algernon studied her. “And even in his absence, you have not tried?”
“I have tried to help my neighbors when they get their letters, but that is the extent of my tutoring, if you could call it such.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. You would have made a great teacher, I think, had you been permitted. You were very patient with me.”
“I could have been a lot of great things, had I not been born a woman,” she grumbled. “Ah, here we are. This looks like a good-sized town ahead.”
The village was a thriving little market town. Algernon alighted from the carriage, leaving Maggie inside, and spoke to the valet, who’d been riding the back all afternoon. “Arrange for two rooms—adjoining, if you please, Sims. My cousin is weary.”
The valet, knowing Maggie was no relation of his at all, raised a brow in surprise at the request for adjoining rooms, but rushed off to do his bidding without asking questions. Algernon probably shouldn’t want an adjoining room, but he’d never enjoyed a conversation more than he had on his journey with Maggie so far. He sensed that there was a great deal Maggie had been denied in her life. It pained him to think of such great intelligence going to waste in a small village where her father had left her, forgotten and underappreciated.
The valet returned and assured him that adjoining rooms were possible. He opened the carriage door to help Maggie out.
The innkeeper rushed toward them. “Sir! A pleasure to see you again—and this time with a wife, no less. Congratulations.”
Algernon gaped at the man, while Maggie gasped in obvious shock. “Oh, yes. Um, what did you say?”
“I feared this day would never come,” the innkeeper confided, shaking Algernon’s hand while beaming at Maggie. “Welcome. I hope you and your husband enjoy your stay at our humble establishment.”
“Well, um. Come along, my dear,” Algernon held out his hand to Maggie. “I’m sure you need the quiet to recover from our journey.”
Maggie turned to look at him pointedly. The longer she studied him, the more hostile her expression became. Eventually, she set her hand in his. “Yes, I think that is a very good idea. I should like some privacy before our next discussion.”
Algernon gulped. Oh dear God. This was a disaster.
He escorted her inside the inn and immediately upstairs to the chambers the innkeeper directed them to, his blood pumping wildly in his veins. Married? To Maggie? She was going to ring a peal over his head or kill him. She’d already threatened to do so.
The entire way up the stairs, Maggie’s fingertips dug into the back of his hand. He would apologize profusely once they were alone, but the damage was already done to her good opinion of him. He had entirely forgotten that he was known here.
He opened the door for her and allowed her to precede him into the first bedchamber. But before he could cross the threshold to talk, Maggie slammed the door in his face.
He sighed. Yes. That was one imposition too far.
He went to his own chamber and entered a tidy little room. He glanced at the connecting door and went there to knock.
Maggie flung it open. “What were you thinking to ask for a connecting room when you are known here?”
“Yes, I had forgotten about that,” he said, as he peeked into her room, noticing it was larger and prettier than his. He approved of that. “I am sorry.”
“He will remember meeting your new wife, too, the next time you visit,” Maggie whispered, clearly horrified.
“Possibly.”
“Algernon!” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I cannot be your wife.”
“I know that. You know that.”
She set her hands on her hips. “Why does this not bother you more?”
“I will regret it if he gossips, but I would not change anything about this day.”
“You have become reckless. Impulsive. Presumptuous and—”
Algernon quickly put his finger over her lips. “I assure you, I have no intention of bothering you as a real husband might hope to.”
He dragged his finger off her lips slowly, and heard a small gasp leave her throat.
Algernon stilled, struck by what he was doing…and wanted to do next most of all: find any excuse to kiss her again.
He was being reckless, and normally would act on his impulses around a woman he fancied. But Maggie was his dear friend, and he ought to behave with more restraint around her until invited to do otherwise. She had not voiced such an invitation yet, though there had been ample glances that suggested she was considering his appeal.
He stepped back from her. “Have dinner in your chamber if you wish to punish me for wanting you near, Maggie. I deserve it.”
He pivoted and retraced his steps to the door, deciding that Maggie might need time to cool her temper before she would forgive him.
The inn boasted a taproom, and he went there to wait at a table near a window. The ale was decent and the room warm, and he drowsed a little as the room filled with newcomers, and considered what he was doing with Maggie.
Maggie, while highly desirable, was the last woman an indebted duke should flirt with so often. She had said little about her circumstances, but he’d gleaned enough to piece together that she lived in near poverty and was disappointed with her life. Her cloak hid from most the poor condition of her gown, but the soles of her shoes were nearly worn through.
He could not be another disappointment to her.
And yet he had thought all day of kissing her again. Today, and since meeting Maggie again, he had ignored that he was traveling to London to rendezvous with a wealthy viscountess.
Lady Stephanie Kent had the connections, the pedigree, and the elegance, not to mention the money, to provide Algernon’s immediate needs in a bride.
But the idea of marrying her did not appeal. Not when there was no affection between them. He had tried to like her more last season, and failed. He hoped further time spent with the woman before he proposed might rectify that situation. And it was why he was headed to London…to see her again and find the right moment to propose.
Algernon was sipping his fifth tankard when he heard a shrill laugh that reminded him of Lady Kent. He repressed a shiver, which was not the correct reaction for a prospective groom to have at all.
When he heard the piercing noise again, he sat up straighter and glanced around the taproom.
A hush had settled over the taproom patrons in the hour he’d been there, and the laugh came from no one nearby. He turned his eyes to the open window and spied a carriage he recognized standing directly outside the inn.
The distinctive black and blue wavy stripe along the side of Lady Kent’s carriage was unmistakable.
He blinked in surprise to see her here…but she was not alone.
Lady Stephanie Kent and a strange man appeared to be grappling inside her carriage—mid-tryst.
Algernon narrowed his eyes at her brazen behavior. It was one thing for a widow to rendezvous with a lover in a carriage after dark, but another to do it in broad daylight with the carriage blinds tied back.
The fellow struggled to escape through the open door, held in place by Lady Kent as they exchanged heated kisses. As soon as the fellow’s feet hit the ground, though, he stumbled back and she was driven off with a regal wave.
Algernon watched the fellow rush into the taproom and survey those inside, while straightening his hair and tugging down his sensible brown waistcoat.
The man was utterly unremarkable in appearance. Sandy-brown hair, sensibly attired and not obviously wealthy.
But he was younger than Algernon by a half-dozen years.
The man requested a tankard of ale and headed toward the only vacant chair in the room.
The one opposite Algernon.
“Do you mind if I join you, sir?” he asked. His voice was soft, hesitant. Timid almost.
“No, not at all,” Algernon murmured, made uncomfortable by the request, but curiosity won out. Who was Lady Kent’s new lover?
After a moment, he met Algernon’s gaze. “Are you a local, sir?”
“No. Just passing through,” he promised, relieved not to be recognized. “And you?”
“Yes. Passing through as well.” The fellow glanced around. “But I was hoping someone knew of a position I could apply for.”
“I’ve no knowledge of one,” Algernon answered, struck by the oddity of the question. Algernon hadn’t heard a whisper about Lady Kent engaged in any affairs before today. “Are you in search of a position?”
“Not exactly,” the fellow said, turning red.
Algernon fell silent as he sipped his tankard, considering what to say next to the man. But as he watched the young man ignore his own drink, he revised his assumptions. The fellow couldn’t be more than twenty, perhaps even younger than that. He still had spots! What was Lady Kent doing, kissing a mere boy?
