Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Algernon glared out the front door of the taproom. “Would you look at that? Would you just look at that? Will this infernal rain never end?”
“Not according to the innkeeper,” his valet warned, shivering beside the taproom fire, unwilling to give up his spot.
The rain had been coming down hard since yesterday, great sheets of it, obliterating the view and turning the road into a never-ending stream.
Algernon was irritated. He was still damp, and he was tired, having not slept well last night due to the lack of available rooms. A chair in the dining room was all very well for a light doze, no more than an hour, but it was a soft bed he craved under him at night.
At least he was clean again, and more presentable.
But with the rain coming down and the roadways flooded, there was no chance of any room becoming available anytime soon. The other guests could hardly leave, or want to share their chamber and bed with a stranger.
Although if that pretty woman from yesterday showed her face again, he might be in luck. He’d been hoping to spot her again, but she’d taken supper in her chambers last night and, to his disappointment, remained abovestairs still.
He turned back to the taproom. The locals had gathered around the room and were silently sipping ale and talking amongst themselves. Algernon listened discreetly, thankfully ignored for now.
“This is nothing compared to the flood of seventy-four,” an old man said.
“Oh, the one of eighty-eight was much worse,” another argued. “Trapped for nearly a month that time.”
Algernon tried not to groan.
Sims leaned toward them. “Did the bridge wash away completely?”
“No, not the bridge. The roads that led up to it washed away, though. Took forever to get our side done, and then the other side took their sweet time, too.”
“Brilliant,” Algernon said under his breath. “That’s all I need to hear.”
He might never reach London at this rate, and he might not be able to return home by Christmas, either.
Another fellow came in, and Algernon realized, judging by the way he looked around, that he was not a local but one of the few guests who had secured a room upstairs.
The man came his way. “Dashed nuisance, all this rain, isn’t it? The name is Keane, Charles Keane.”
“Allan Sweet. Yes, a great nuisance indeed,” Algernon agreed.
“Ah, well. Glad I’ve got my wife with me for company.” The man chuckled. “It would be a dull few days without the conversation of my family, wouldn’t it, sir?”
Algernon agreed with him. When he traveled, he usually had a brother with him.
Most often Nash, but he would go nowhere without his wife and children these days.
Jasper was needed to run the estate in his absence, and Stratford, while Algernon adored him, would have blathered the whole way to London.
He had his valet, of course, but traveling with a servant paid to agree with you was not the same at all.
Algernon normally preferred to travel light and as inconspicuously as possible anyway, without using his title, but he regretted that now. A duke could have commanded the best room in the inn, had he looked like one upon his arrival.
“And the other woman traveling with you is comfortable upstairs, too, I suppose?”
“Other woman? I have no—oh, you’re talking about the young lady in the chamber beside ours, aren’t you? Yes, yes. You must be. Quite a retiring little thing, but handsome. Haven’t seen a peep of her since we first arrived, though.”
“I saw only a glimpse,” he said, hiding the truth. Algernon had been unable to tear his eyes from her face.
“A widow, I suspect,” Keane continued. “My wife is very disapproving of her staying in her room so much. Barely spoke a word to us yesterday, and the woman kept her nose in a book the entire time. My wife prefers conversation to reading when we travel.”
Algernon’s hopes soared. An amenable widow traveling alone might be interested in a gentleman’s company after dark. And bookish women had always appealed to him. “I have yet to meet this particular lady.”
“Hasn’t she come down yet again?”
“Not that I’ve seen.” And he’d been looking for her, too, and anything else to divert his attention on such a gloomy, damp day.
“This bodes well for a lively dinner this evening, then.” Keane grinned. “You’ll have to tell me what you make of her after your first meeting.”
“Perhaps,” Algernon said, but he usually guarded his opinions of others for those who deserved to hear them.
“Now, I know I should go up and check on my beloved wife soon, but I think an ale is in order first. Will you join me?”
“Indeed.” Algernon ordered an ale for them both and sat with his back to the view of the road, deciding that as long as he could hear the rain, there was nothing else to see outside.
He was nearly done with his first tankard when a small figure appeared in the distant dining room, whose doors had been left open to allow others to freely use the space to stretch their legs. She paused in the doorway and looked out into the taproom, and their eyes met again.
Algernon felt a jolt of recognition. The same as he had yesterday. But he couldn’t imagine why he thought he knew her.
He leaned across to the other guest and asked, “What was the lady’s name?”
“I don’t know that I ever heard it. We were in a bit of a state yesterday and eager to reach our room. Introductions were not performed, I’m afraid.” He shrugged. “Perhaps my wife could find out for you. I could go upstairs and ask her.”
The woman suddenly beckoned him to join her in the dining room.
“No, that’s quite all right,” Algernon said quickly, immediately rising to his feet, irrationally compelled by that small, demanding hand to obey. “Do excuse me, Keane.”
The fellow muttered something in response, but Algernon’s whole body was fixed on meeting the bookish widow who could hopefully enliven his day.
He hurried towards the dining room, entered the space and, on instinct, shut the door behind him.
The widow was at the window, her back to him. She had dark hair and a nice figure—somewhat shorter than him—and was well-dressed. Well…reasonably well-dressed. She was obviously not a wealthy widow.
She turned slowly. “Did your carriage break down?”
She was a bold one, this widow, and Algernon liked that in women. “Yes,” he said, edging closer in the hope of identifying her voice before she noticed his confusion. “Before we could reach the next bridge, in fact.”
“Ah. It is a great shame the rain did not hold off for one more day. We might have all made it through unscathed. Or was it providence that it rained when it did, forcing you to slow down for a change?” she asked, raising one brow.
Algernon was intrigued. Most women did not immediately speak to him like this, as if they were accustomed to casual conversation with him.
The title conferred on him as a young man had set him apart for most of his life.
His elevation to duke had created a formality with people he had known for years.
He drew closer, sizing her up. Yes, a little on the short side for his taste. She had a pleasant round face, intelligent, deep brown eyes, and, if he was not mistaken, an appreciation for his figure, too, given how her gaze drifted over him.
His scalp tingled when she glanced up at his hair and grinned. “Have you lost your hairbrush?”
He quickly raked his fingers through it and heard her laugh softly.
“Still vain, I see.”
But the sound of her laughter was pleasant, rather than mean-spirited, and he knew he’d heard that laugh before. He just couldn’t say from where still.
“Madam, are we acquainted?” he asked, little caring if he offended by not remembering her identity.
“Oh, intimately.” She laughed at the shock he could not hide. “I gather I have changed a great deal since our last encounter. Everyone does, I suppose.”
“Madam, I don’t believe that it could be true that we’ve met before,” he complained, irritated by her game. “You’re the sort of woman a man would commit to memory. Presumptuous.”
“Presumptuous? Yes, well, my father said that about me often. He said I embarrassed him,” she replied, and then shrugged. “He also said you would not appreciate my sense of humor. But I only ever teased you as much as you would tease me.”
He drew back, staring at her. “I enjoy a good jest as much as the next man, but women do not taunt me unless they are prepared for the consequences.”
“Are you dangerous now? Or do you despise females as much as your father used to?”
“I’m not dangerous unless it is to a lady’s virtue.” He promised. “My father never understood that the feminine intellect is not so different from our own.”
“I’m surprised you would admit that, since you once claimed your sex possessed a greater intelligence.” She smiled, her eyes sparkled with unconcealed mirth.
She was enjoying his confusion immensely.
Algernon tilted his head to one side, looking her over again. She was known to him. Something about her was off, though. He could almost put his finger on what it was. Since she wore gloves, Algernon could not determine if she wore a wedding ring or jewels on her fingers yet.
“I have stumped you. How delicious. You always claimed to be so good at riddles, though I’m sure you will tell others that you figured it out much sooner than you will.”
He glanced to the side, to a dining table, and detected a book with a pair of spectacles sitting on top. Neither one gave him a clue. Many women read and wore spectacles.
He scowled. “There’s something wrong with how you look, madam.”
“There is nothing wrong with me, Fairbridge,” she claimed, setting her hands on her hips and glaring at him with annoyance.
Algernon drew closer, challenged rather than put off. He’d been a duke for most of the year now, so she was not a new acquaintance but an older one who did not know of his elevation. “It is Duke of Ravenswood now, madam. My father died.”
“Oh,” she said quickly, setting a tiny hand to her chest. “My humble apologies, Your Grace. News travels slowly to my part of the world.”
He raised a brow. “And what part of the world would that be?”
“Now that could be giving you every clue if you ever knew where I’d gone,” she said, waggling her brows. “You will eventually remember who you are dealing with and become cross with yourself that I bested you again.”
That, too, was familiar.
The woman stood there, smiling up at him, slightly swaying, making her rather plain gown shift around her legs, her eyes sparkling with laughter.
He clicked his fingers multiple times. “It’s just there. I can almost taste it.”
She wet her lips, and Algernon stared at them, too.
“By that look, I assume you are thinking a kiss might help your memory,” she murmured. “I wonder if that could be true.”
If he’d known her as intimately as she claimed, they surely would have kissed. This was hardly the privacy he usually sought, but, well, with his siblings properly married, someone had to set a bad example these days.
Algernon bent his head and captured her pretty lips, hoping to spark some long-forgotten memory.
But the kiss only confused him more. Her inexperience was obvious, but she still kissed him back, and with unexpected enthusiasm. He explored her mouth, enjoying her like a fine wine he’d forgotten he’d enjoyed sampling before. Rich, all-consuming. The kind you could lose your soul for.
And Algernon could not get enough.
He framed her face with his hands, finding new angles as he extended the kiss well beyond the bounds of propriety. Her tongue teased against his, and he sucked it gently into his mouth.
When she withdrew, he followed, unable to stop himself from becoming aroused by her kiss.
When he felt a subtle pressure against his chest, he heeded reason and drew back a little, astonished at himself for getting so carried away in a room with no locks on the door.
The woman seemed momentarily dazed, her lips parted and her breathing rushed, but then she grinned. “You’ve improved.”
But still, he had no newly recovered memory of her, and an overwhelming desire to kiss the woman again and perhaps more, all night long. He crowded her against the window a bit, settled his hands on her hips, and held her there, studying her face in earnest.
The woman bore his proximity and scrutiny without fear or complaint, but a bright blush climbed her cheeks, signaling that she was affected by him, and he drew back again, puzzled by how he could have possibly forgotten having such a passionate woman in his arms before.
“My dear Algernon, I had forgotten how easy it was to lead you by the nose. I could always get you to do what I wanted.”
He paused, staring at her hard as he remembered the only person, a mere slip of a girl, who had held that power over him.
Who had bested him more than once and called him by his given name.
But they’d been children then. Him barely twelve and her ten, and thrown together for so short a time. Short but entirely memorable.
No wonder he was having so much trouble identifying the woman before him.
Bookish Maggie Black had grown up into a remarkably provocative woman.
But a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his lust, now he knew who he was dealing with. She had tricked him into a kiss today. In the past, it had been a mutual decision to learn to kiss with each other. But those days should have been left far, far behind.
Well, if she wanted a game, he’d play along—and he would make her squirm just as much in return for tricking him.
“Lady Sally Ford,” he said, snapping his fingers and enveloping his long-lost friend in his arms. “I could never forget the passion of your kisses.”