Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Algernon introduced Maggie as Mrs. Black and himself as Mr. Black the next day at dinner, Maggie bit back a groan that the ruse would continue, albeit under a lesser description.
As a boy, Algernon had been almost embarrassed by his title, yet for some reason, he seemed to relish this ruse of being her devoted husband.
As she sat by his side, she tried to imagine what it might be like to be his wife in truth. Never a dull moment. Never left out of conversations. Her opinions sought and valued.
It was soothing after fending for herself for so long.
She patted her lips, full to the brim of another fine and expensive dinner she couldn’t afford herself, and turned to Algernon, keen to hear more about his life and family. “And your youngest brother? Is he still painting the walls in the attics?”
“Stratford? No, he moved on to actual canvas years ago, and he can now paint quite openly with my father gone.”
The woman across from them at the dining table leaned forward. “Oh? Was there something scandalous about his paintings, sir?”
A flicker of annoyance crossed Algernon’s face, but he answered her. “My father disapproved of the arts, and for some time, my brother practiced in secret,” he explained. “My father refused to let his sons engage in what he thought of as useless occupations or something they might enjoy.”
“It is a great skill to be able to draw and paint with ease,” Maggie murmured.
“Yes, I quite agree. My siblings are free now to do as they please, without criticism from anyone.”
“You are a very good brother,” the lady opposite suggested, batting her lashes at Algernon right in front of Maggie.
The woman was beginning to annoy her. The widow kept cutting into their conversation and flirting with Algernon, when she wasn’t bemoaning her solitary state.
She leaned forward a little, fiddling with the neckline of her gown as she gazed at Algernon with barely hidden interest. “Gentlemen like you must surely be appreciated by any woman, especially his wife.”
Maggie stifled a sigh. It was only the third time the woman had subtly questioned whether Algernon was happily married, but it was not out of hope for conjugal bliss for them. She clearly hoped Algernon was unhappy with his choice.
But Algernon smiled and reached for Maggie’s hand, gripping it tightly. “I am indeed the luckiest of men to have captured this clever, beautiful woman for my wife. I don’t know how she puts up with me.”
Maggie lowered her chin to hide her embarrassment at Algernon’s statement. His lies were getting out of hand.
“Oh, well. That’s wonderful to hear,” the woman promised, fluttering her fan furiously.
“Yes, I tell our children that they should hope for a love like ours every day of their lives,” Algernon continued, lifting Maggie’s hand to kiss her fingers and smiling like he was besotted. “And of course, to adore their dear mama as much as I do.”
Maggie lifted her head to stare at Algernon. In love, married for two days, and they already had children?
Algernon’s expression was one of devilry, because he could say what he liked in front of others and Maggie couldn’t really stop him.
She shook her head, resigned to more foolishness to come out of his mouth the longer they lingered at the table.
He was Mr. Black, not the Duke of Ravenswood, or even Algernon Sweet.
His ruse continued to break all the rules of polite society and was only getting worse the longer they were together.
“I hope you know how lucky you are,” the lady said to Maggie.
“I tell her that all the time,” Algernon promised. “But I couldn’t do without her now, either.”
Eventually, the woman nodded, her expression envious and conceding defeat to Maggie’s claim on her handsome husband.
She bid them good night and moved away, but stopped to speak with another, less-attractive man.
Though she looked back at Algernon a few times, clearly regretting what could never be.
Maggie turned to the duke. “How many children do we have?”
“Two at least.”
“I see,” Maggie murmured. “An heir and a spare, I assume.”
“One of each sex,” he announced firmly. “At least that is my hope.”
“I was afraid you’d want at least four, like your papa.”
“I’m not like him.”
“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.”
She laughed. “Poor Algernon, reduced to the indignity of having to raise his voice just to be heard.”
“And I invite you to do the same.”
Maggie shook her head. “I can’t shout at you, Your Grace.”
“Why not? My family all do.”
“Well, that’s different, you know—you and I are not related. We did not grow up together.”
“We spent a year together, Maggie. Just one precious year, and you left an indelible mark on my life. You fired all my rebellions against my father’s tyranny and prejudices. He learned his lesson after that year, though. My father never allowed anyone to have such influence or access to me again.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Did you have no other teachers after Father?”
“Yes, I did. But none as good as him. And no one challenged me the way you ever did that one year.”
“I’m glad I could be of some help with your education. But I’m sure you did not miss me as much as you claim.”