Page 27 of No Duke of Mine

Maggie finally noticed his trunks piled up. “Shouldn’t your trunks be taken to your room?”

He winced. “They would if I had one. The inn had just one chamber I could rent tonight.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“When the proprietor saw us together in the carriage, he concluded that we were husband and wife.”

“Again, Algernon?”

“I could not correct his mistake because he knows exactly who I am. I’m prepared to let the mistake about our marriage stand, if you will keep out of sight for the night.”

“But we are not husband and wife.”

“Since I am known here by my title, I need you to convince others that you are indeed my…”

Her eyes bulged. “Your actual duchess?”

He cleared his throat. “The fib will ensure that you are treated better than you might have been in such a place, had our real relationship become known. Should I be asked about my wife’s appearance on my next visit, I will say they misremembered.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Misremembered? Algernon, are you married?”

“No. Not yet,” he admitted, feeling ashamed that he had not mentioned the purpose of his trip to London.

“Not yet?” Her eyes grew wider still. “What exactly is your status then?”

“Not married. Not betrothed,” he confessed. “I am on my way to meet with a likely bride, though.”

She reeled back a step. “You are on your way to propose marriage to another lady, and you want me to pretend to be her now?”

“We do get along quite well, so no one should question it,” he promised, taking a step back from her. “It would just be for one last night. If you keep to this room, I will spend the night elsewhere.”

“Where is elsewhere?” she asked, though her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Likely the taproom. That is where I will be going next, in fact. Until later, my dear,” he said, backing up another step.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re leaving me already,” she complained. “Hardly married two days, and I’m passed over for a tankard in a tavern and a serving maid on your knee.”

She covered her face and broke into wretched sobs.

Algernon stared at her in shock—but then, she looked around her hands and winked at him. There was no sign of tears in her eyes. It had all been a performance meant to torment him.

He laughed grudgingly with her and held out his hand. Maggie slipped hers into it, and he squeezed her fingers tightly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t quite know,” he whispered. “I should have, though.”

Maggie winced. “Yes, you should have, and right from the start. I feel quite the fool.”

“You’re not the foolish one. You are funny and kind, and I know it was difficult for you to let me help you. I’m going to go and let you enjoy the quiet and respite from me, and travel. Sims should have gone in search of that bookshop we talked about by now, to make sure it is still there, but you don’t have to go if you don’t want to now.”

Maggie bit her lip. “What if I want to see this fabled bookshop you promised to show me?”

“Then I will collect you in, say, an hour, and escort you there.”

“I don’t need your escort.”

“But the wife of an important man does,” he suggested. “The wife of the Duke of Ravenswood would never go anywhere unattended by her husband or a trusted servant. My mother had three companions who went with her everywhere.”