Page 22 of No Duke of Mine

“I’m glad you are not,” she promised.

Maggie had encountered the old duke, Algernon’s father, several times during her stay at Ravenswood. Heard him belittle and criticize his sons and try to tell her father how Algernon should be punished for his mistakes.

Algernon had been one of her father’s best and brightest students without needing an incentive. He was dedicated to his studies and inquisitive, and most definitely had always wanted to come first.

Maggie had bested him often. On the odd occasion when she was feeling extremely uncharitable, she let her true intelligence show and finished well before he could make it halfway through a test.

However, that had not met with her father’s approval, and as a consequence, she had been banished from his classroom in the end, and after departing Ravenswood, she had tried to hide that side of herself from his later pupils.

When anyone discovered that she had a brain as well as a little beauty, she would either be taunted for being a bluestocking or pursued to prove she was weaker than her pursuer in some other way. Maggie could handle the name-calling. She’d learned that some boys felt threatened by a girl of greater intelligence. But the cruel attempts at seduction for the sake of their egos were something she could live without experiencing again.

Algernon had not been like that as a boy. He’d been surprised that she was smarter than he had expected her to be, but never behaved as if he’d felt threatened by that fact. He’d befriended her instead.

“And you have sisters-in-law, too? Now, that must be quite the novelty, having women constantly underfoot and running your home.”

He laughed. “My sisters are a delight, and I think they will like you very much.”

She laughed again. “It is unlikely our paths will ever cross.”

“I should be very happy to invite you to stay with us again,” he promised.

“I’m sure my father would be pleased to be received by the esteemed Duke of Ravenswood,” she told him quietly. She pushed her plate aside and stood. “I believe I will turn in for the night. Good evening, everyone.”

In a moment, Algernon was on his feet as well. He caught her hand and kissed the back of it. “Good night, Mrs. Black. I will join you soon.”

He probably said as much because the other guests were listening—and because the widow’s eyes had lit up with anticipation.

Maggie left the dining room and trudged back up the stairs, noticing that the rain had eased off again. There had been lightning about in the afternoon, forcing Algernon to call a halt to their journey earlier than expected that day.

But perhaps tomorrow they could leave early, and the roads would be dry enough that they could make up for lost time.

Once in her room, Maggie removed her shawl and gloves and set them aside. She was tired and eager for sleep. But just as she was considering undressing, a tentative knock sounded on the door that connected to Algernon’s chamber.

When she opened it, she found him on the other side, grinning. “God, that woman couldn’t give us a moment of peace.”

“She fancied you,” Maggie warned him, hugging the door. “Did you arrange an assignation for later?”

“I did not fancy her,” he protested. “Are you going to invite me in tonight or hand me another pillow?”

Questions like that were how reputations unraveled—one indulgent moment at a time.

But they were already pretending to be married, so technically, she was already ruined.

She stepped back, allowing him entry to her room, although she knew she really should maintain some separation. She was unmarried, and Algernon was definitely not her husband or likely to be. If they were found to be living a lie, her reputation would be in tatters. Yet, she was enjoying her private conversations with a man so far above her that she didn’t want to stop. He made her laugh. His grin was always so warm and infectious that she couldn’t help but look forward to the next outrageous thing he might say.

“Ah.” He looked around, hands on his hips. “A duke would normally be given the best room at the inn, but I see they gave it to you instead.”

She smiled. “I suppose I could trade with you, but I don’t want to.”

He laughed as his eyes fell on the settee near the fire. “I could almost fit on that, though,” he said, going over and trying it out for size. “We could talk all night like we used to do.”

“You’re welcome to take the settee to your room, if you can carry it through the door on your own,” she offered.

“I could, but then you’d have to come to my room and sleep in my bed.” He glanced her way with a question in his eyes.

“No,” she told him, hiding how the question tempted her to agree.

“Well then, we shall have to make do with what we’ve been given. We can talk through the open door.”