Chapter 2 #2
“I do understand, and I’d advise you leave your husband to deal with that particular gentleman, if I were you,” Maggie said—and then gasped and looked around, “Oh, one moment please!”
Maggie dashed back into the private dining room, glad the room was still unoccupied, to where she had left her travel case and snatched it up.
She rushed back out of the room as she heard the heavy tread of boots approaching. She slipped back into the hall unseen, but paused to listen to her once-upon-a-time friend take possession of the chamber and start giving out orders.
She noticed his voice was deeper, but he complained a lot more about the bad weather than he used to at twelve.
As he urged his men to dry off, a shiver raced over her skin that had nothing to do with being damp and cold, or his concern for his servants.
“Make sure the horses are rubbed down and have the carriage wheel looked at. I hope to be away from here at first light.”
She grinned. Algernon had been in a tearing hurry every day that she’d known him, except when he was reading a book in the library with her. She had often teased him that he’d miss something important if he did not slow down.
But she would do no teasing of him anymore.
He was important, and she was no longer a child of his tutor’s, running nearly wild through a grand house and on the manicured grounds with him.
Algernon was wealthy and destined for a dukedom, being the oldest son and heir, and Maggie might have become a dutiful wife at best, had her father provided a dowry for a woman at her advanced age of six and twenty.
She climbed the stairs, following the innkeeper’s wife, glad to know her old friend was still largely as she remembered.
But Algernon might not want to see her again.
Not after the trouble she’d caused him that last day at Ravenswood.
Now that she was older, she understood better the scandal that could have erupted over her growing friendship with a duke’s son and heir.
Their stations in life had been extraordinarily different, as were the expectations for their futures and behavior. The laughing boy she’d known, Algernon, had been destined for greatness, while Maggie’s station in life continued to sink lower.
She entered her rented room and withheld a sigh. Barely a closet with only a small window set in the wall. There was no fire, but the room felt surprisingly warm. Besides a single bed—a plain wooden box—an aged mirror hanging on the wall, and a pair of candlesticks, it was bereft of embellishment.
“You’re against the chimney from the kitchen, so you should be right cozy in here tonight.
Hang up your wet things on the pegs on that wall and they could be dry by morning,” the woman promised.
“There’s another pair of blankets in that box at the foot of the bed, and I’ll send up something warm for your supper later. ”
“I did not pay for supper,” Maggie confessed, wincing.
“I can see you’ve fallen on hard times, love, and it’s all right. My husband will never know.”
Although she was surprised by the offer of charity, she wasn’t so proud as to refuse a meal. But all she really wanted was to dry her clothing and sleep the night away.
The innkeeper’s wife rushed off, promising to send up warm water to wash with in the morning, and then left Maggie to deal with the remaining travelers downstairs.
Maggie locked the door and began to remove her damp outer garments, eager to be rid of them. She hung her cloak and gown on the pegs and pressed her hands against the warm brickwork. With luck, her clothing might be dry enough to put back on before the promised dinner tray arrived.
Maggie removed her footwear and wrapped a blanket around herself before going to the tiny window.
Her chamber overlooked the road, and the river that wound around through the small hamlet could be seen and also offered her a glimpse of those who arrived.
She craned her neck to look farther afield.
There was not much to see until a carriage being pushed and shoved came into view.
It was being directed toward the side of the inn, where the stables were likely situated.
The carriage was clearly damaged as it was listing to one side rather badly, held up by a handful of struggling men.
She winced as she thought of the dripping-wet lord downstairs, a viscount when she knew him, and how his poor servants fared, too.
Algernon’s carriage must have broken down on his journey to somewhere important.
He was either coming from London or going to it, similar to her situation, she supposed, and that was unfortunate.
It seemed like the worst luck to be traveling the same road this week.
She turned from the window and considered getting into bed and staying there. But as she caught sight of her reflection in the square of mirrored glass hanging crookedly on the wall, she nearly died of embarrassment on the spot.
Her bonnet was a limp wreck, she had a black smudge on her cheek and nose, and some of her dark hair had escaped its moorings on one side of her head. Worst of all, the damp weather had made it stick straight out.
She was the most bedraggled woman in existence, and so embarrassed. No wonder the married couple had kept a distance, or that Algernon hadn’t recognized her. Maggie looked like she was headed for Bedlam.