Page 16 of No Duke of Mine

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.