Page 21 of No Duke of Mine

CHAPTER SEVEN

When Algernon introduced Maggie as Mrs. Black and himself as Mr. Black the next day at dinner, Maggie bit back a groan that the ruse would continue, albeit under a lesser description. As a boy, Algernon had been almost embarrassed by his title, yet for some reason, he seemed to relish this ruse of being her devoted husband.

As she sat by his side, she tried to imagine what it might be like to be his wife in truth. Never a dull moment. Never left out of conversations. Her opinions sought and valued.

It was soothing after fending for herself for so long.

She patted her lips, full to the brim of another fine and expensive dinner she couldn’t afford herself, and turned to Algernon, keen to hear more about his life and family. “And your youngest brother? Is he still painting the walls in the attics?”

“Stratford? No, he moved on to actual canvas years ago, and he can now paint quite openly with my father gone.”

The woman across from them at the dining table leaned forward. “Oh? Was there something scandalous about his paintings, sir?”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Algernon’s face, but he answered her. “My father disapproved of the arts, and for some time, my brother practiced in secret,” he explained. “My father refused to let his sons engage in what he thought of as useless occupations or something they might enjoy.”

“It is a great skill to be able to draw and paint with ease,” Maggie murmured.

“Yes, I quite agree. My siblings are free now to do as they please, without criticism from anyone.”

“You are a very good brother,” the lady opposite suggested, batting her lashes at Algernon right in front of Maggie.

The woman was beginning to annoy her. The widow kept cutting into their conversation and flirting with Algernon, when she wasn’t bemoaning her solitary state.

She leaned forward a little, fiddling with the neckline of her gown as she gazed at Algernon with barely hidden interest. “Gentlemen like you must surely be appreciated by any woman, especially his wife.”

Maggie stifled a sigh. It was only the third time the woman had subtly questioned whether Algernon was happily married, but it was not out of hope for conjugal bliss for them. She clearly hoped Algernon was unhappy with his choice.

But Algernon smiled and reached for Maggie’s hand, gripping it tightly. “I am indeed the luckiest of men to have captured this clever, beautiful woman for my wife. I don’t know how she puts up with me.”

Maggie lowered her chin to hide her embarrassment at Algernon’s statement. His lies were getting out of hand.

“Oh, well. That’s wonderful to hear,” the woman promised, fluttering her fan furiously.

“Yes, I tell our children that they should hope for a love like ours every day of their lives,” Algernon continued, lifting Maggie’s hand to kiss her fingers and smiling like he was besotted. “And of course, to adore their dear mama as much as I do.”

Maggie lifted her head to stare at Algernon. In love, married for two days, and they already had children?

Algernon’s expression was one of devilry, because he could say what he liked in front of others and Maggie couldn’t really stop him.

She shook her head, resigned to more foolishness to come out of his mouth the longer they lingered at the table. He was Mr. Black, not the Duke of Ravenswood, or even Algernon Sweet. His ruse continued to break all the rules of polite society and was only getting worse the longer they were together.

“I hope you know how lucky you are,” the lady said to Maggie.

“I tell her that all the time,” Algernon promised. “But I couldn’t do without her now, either.”

Eventually, the woman nodded, her expression envious and conceding defeat to Maggie’s claim on her handsome husband. She bid them good night and moved away, but stopped to speak with another, less-attractive man. Though she looked back at Algernon a few times, clearly regretting what could never be.

Maggie turned to the duke. “How many children do we have?”

“Two at least.”

“I see,” Maggie murmured. “An heir and a spare, I assume.”

“One of each sex,” he announced firmly. “At least that is my hope.”

“I was afraid you’d want at least four, like your papa.”

“I’m not like him.”