Page 3 of No Duke of Mine

He was sure she would say yes. He was certain he would get the money he needed from her. And he was also positive that she would have a great many demands and would want changes made to the contract, despite his diligence.

He went through each page for at least half an hour each, studying them intently, willing the time he needed to spend in the carriage to fly by.

The fastest he had ever traveled to London was four days and four nights, stopping at coaching inns, hotels, or the homes of friends along the way. This time, he intended to make the journey nonstop, changing horses at each posting house before proceeding on.

It was an insane rush, but given how much he had left behind at home to do, he still needed time to woo Lady Kent when he got there.

“I don’t like the look of that,” his valet mumbled, breaking into his gloomy thoughts sometime later.

Algernon glanced at the man opposite and noticed the direction of his gaze. His valet’s face was fixed toward the horizon. Algernon looked too and saw dark clouds in the distance. Perfect.

He hated traveling in the rain. He hoped those clouds stayed far away.

But within an hour, the carriage and horses were pelted by a heavy fall, and their speed slowed as the horses struggled with the suddenly slick roadway.

Algernon and his valet had to brace themselves as they careened down a steep hill that led to a crossing. The banks were already licking at the roadway as they crossed, but they made it through without incident and pressed on to the next posting house. Knowing that the bad weather could change to good in an instant, he resumed his study of his papers.

But just as they reached a small village, the rain came down even harder still. The inn was shut up against the wild weather, and they pressed on for the next bridge.

“It’s getting bad out here for the men and horses, Your Grace,” the coachman called down.

He checked his pocket watch. They hadn’t traveled nearly far enough for the first day, but there was no excuse for mistreating horses or men.

“Keep going,” Algernon shouted up to the coachman. “If we can clear the next bridge, we’ll stop for the night at the first village after that.”

“Right you are, Your Grace,” the coachman answered, cracking a whip over the horses’ heads.

The next bridge was old, made of stone but low. They should have no trouble crossing it in normal conditions, but the carriage pulled to a rough halt.

“It’s underwater,” the coachman called.

Algernon poked his head out the door, cursing as he was instantly soaked. The chill seeped quickly through his shirt to his skin. “How deep do you think?” he yelled, to be heard over the drumming on the carriage roof.

“Above the axle.”

That wasn’t good for the horses. They were already struggling, and the water would be bitterly cold this close to winter. Losing even one horse would be disastrous for his plans.

Suddenly, there was a great blinding crack of lightning, and the horses jerked the carriage sideways, tossing Algernon out the doorway. He landed face-first in a river of cold mud and muck.

He cried out an oath and sprang to his feet, but the horses, spooked by a lightning strike, plunged toward the bridge, dragging the broken carriage—and his men—along with them.

CHAPTER TWO

“Good day to you, sir,” Maggie Black called, pushing her way to the front of the line of travel-weary people so the innkeeper at the Stag noticed her. “Excuse me, I require a room for the night.”

“You and everyone else, stranded because of this accursed bad weather,” he complained. He looked her up and down, frowning, and then peered past her, searching the crowd. “I’ll speak to your husband first.”

Maggie had no husband, no companion, either. “Sir, I can pay you well and want only a small room and bed,” she promised, raising her chin. She shifted her traveling trunk slightly behind her, so he wouldn’t notice the shabby state of it.

Maggie could not help the lack of a husband. But her aloneness was a situation that had made other innkeepers nervous along the way, and, oddly, her traveling companions found it disagreeable, too.

They also seemed to believe her untrustworthy, since she enjoyed a good argument.

She could not help her journey, as she was traveling to meet her papa, not that it was anyone’s business but her own. The last she’d heard, her father had taken up a new position near London, but she hadn’t heard from him since. That had been months ago.

As usual, he’d gone to work for a wealthy family, and what funds she had scrounged together for the journey to find him had to be carefully doled out until he gave her more.

She haggled lightly with the innkeeper for the cost of a room only. But it was more than she’d expected to pay in the end. Her money would not last long at this rate, but every innkeeper on this road seemed willing to rob their customers blind, and unless she wished to sleep in the stables, she had to pay what they thought was fair.