Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Algernon launched himself out of the carriage the next morning as soon as it slowed enough not to break his neck in a fall. They had reached the village nearest to where he’d spent last night, and as he looked around, his temper did not improve.
Maggie had slipped away from the inn before dawn, or so he’d discovered after calling up to her room to tell her they could be on their way at her convenience.
Finding no sign of her had caused him an astonishing amount of unexpected panic.
But this could hardly be called a village worthy of being named such a thing.
A church stood at the crossroads and not much else besides. No grand houses for miles and miles. He scanned the nearly empty horizon, devoid of more than a few scattered cottages, searching for signs of life, but one most of all.
The innkeeper hadn’t been able to keep the amusement off his face at learning a duke had lost his duchess, and had suggested groveling to win back her favor.
Algernon would not be groveling. He was more likely to put Maggie over his knee and spank her for frightening him to death once he found her.
He’d been unhappy that she’d taken dinner in her chambers last night after he’d revealed he was on his way to be married for money.
Yet he had accepted her decision. He should have told her everything long ago.
Because she’d believed him unencumbered by entanglement, they had become intimate, and that was entirely his fault.
Acting as if they were truly husband and wife had clouded his judgment severely.
Yet he’d been sure a night spent apart would have restored her good humor with him, and they could continue on as friends. He still intended to deliver her safely to her father’s place of employment, just to know what she found there.
And if, after meeting with her father, Maggie expressed a desire to visit London, he would have delivered her there himself, too.
And after that…he did not know precisely what might happen between them.
But she’d gone off without a word of goodbye, and he’d stormed out of the inn, barking out orders, berating his men for moving too slowly.
His ill temper with her impatience continued unabated still.
There was no reason for her to disappear like that just because he’d told her the truth about the plans he’d made for his future.
Plans he’d made an eternity ago it felt like.
And it wasn’t as if he was spoken for already.
He had uttered no proposal. He might still find another way forward without a great fortune at their disposal.
“Find her,” he barked, and the grooms scrambled to do his bidding.
Sims paused at his side. “There’s nothing here. Are you sure this is the place she was headed?”
“No, I am not. She conveniently never mentioned the name of her father’s employer, either, only that she’d found it on a map yesterday and suggested that it was close. I don’t even know where she came from. Obstinate wench.”
He looked around again and hoped to see her appear just because he was there. He had to apologize, too. Clearly, he had enjoyed the experience, the novelty, of being in a fake marriage more than Maggie ever had.
Someone called out, “Your Grace!”
He searched for the source of the shout and saw one of his grooms near the church, waving his arms and gesturing toward the chapel. He saw no sign of Maggie there but headed for the man straight away.
“Behind the church, just down the hill,” the fellow clarified, when Algernon reached him. “I think it’s your lady.”
Algernon hurried in that direction and quickly caught sight of Maggie in the distance, sitting on the ground with her back to him. His breath caught, and he smiled in relief that he’d found her again.
Suddenly, Sims grabbed his arm, stopping his forward momentum. “It’s a graveyard,” his valet gasped.
His ill temper with Maggie vanished in an instant. But he shook off Sims and hurried on, anxious to see whose grave she sat near.
But he knew, deep down.
He knew she was looking at the final resting place of her papa.
Maggie sat amongst old, weathered headstones, but the space immediately before her lacked any marker at all. The grass was absent over the spot and raised, as if the burial was very recent.
He stopped several paces behind her because he wasn’t sure if she had heard his approach, and he didn’t want to startle her. She did not turn, and in the end, he whispered her name,
“Maggie?”
“Algernon,” she answered, but her tone was flat, devoid of her usual warmth when speaking to him.
He drew closer and crouched down at her side. “When?”
“Two months ago,” she whispered.
Two months, and she was only just learning about it now.
Algernon gulped. “I am so sorry.”
She nodded, and then shook her head.
Algernon glanced at the grave again. “How did you find him out here?”
“I asked for directions,” she whispered. “The vicar told me where he was.”
Algernon glanced back at the church and saw a tall, thin man standing about, talking with Sims. He turned back to Maggie. “I’ll arrange a headstone.”
“No.”
Algernon put his hand lightly on her shoulder and squeezed. “He was important to me once, too. I want to do this for him, and you.”
Maggie eventually nodded again, and he stood and left her sitting by the grave. He went to the vicar, and the man held out his hand to be shaken.
“Ah, Mr. Black.”
“Algernon Sweet, Duke of Ravenswood.”
The man seemed like any other country vicar he’d ever met. Plainly dressed and wearing a perpetually mournful expression. There was good reason for that today.
“I’m honored to meet you, Your Grace. A pity not to meet under better circumstances.” The vicar smiled, though. “I was starting to doubt my letter reached anyone.”
“What letter do you refer to?”
“Mr. Black spoke so fondly of his family and their achievements, and I wrote to the only address I could find in his trunk, yet received no reply. I could not believe his sons would not come to mourn their father. Did you receive my letter by mistake?”
Algernon was utterly shocked by the vicar’s question. “Are you certain you buried Mr. Magnus Black here, and not some other poor fellow?”
The vicar appeared insulted. “I am certain of the name he gave me. It is written down amongst his possessions, as well.”
“Mr. Black had but one daughter and no other issue. No sons at all,” Algernon informed him, fighting his temper with the late Mr. Black.
“But that is impossible,” the vicar said, sputtering. Then his gaze flickered to the small figure sitting by the graveside. “Oh, dear. I should have said more to comfort the woman.”
Algernon ground his teeth. “Words mean very little at a time like this.”
When his own father had died, Algernon could not remember a single word spoken to him. Nothing had made him feel different.
Their fathers were quite the pair. Cold and unfeeling.
How cruel of Mr. Black to never speak of his daughter, his greatest achievement.
He should have been so proud of Maggie, and told the vicar all about her brilliant mind and happy disposition.
The vicar should have written to her directly, and not left her wondering all this time.
But clearly, Mr. Black had not written down her directions anywhere in his possessions.
“Tell me what you know about Mr. Black’s demise.”
“I’m afraid he died not long after he arrived to take up teaching at a nearby estate.
He died in the night without warning. He had come here twice, on Sundays, so I knew him only a little.
Never said very much about his own life, but spoke fondly of his hopes for his new pupil, and the other boys I had wrongly assumed were his sons.
” The vicar winced. “The family he worked for conveyed his body and belongings here to me and paid for the burial. His wages from his last employment were placed in his trunk by them, as well.”
“Good,” Algernon said, though he worried for Maggie’s future even more now. A tutor earned very little, and Maggie was young and healthy. She had financial needs that must be met somehow. He winced, hoping Mr. Black had left her something in his last will and testament.
The vicar caught his eye. “You will find nothing missing, I assure you.”
Not that they could know if there were items taken. They would have to take the vicar’s word for it and hope he was as honest as he claimed. But just in case there was room for doubt, Algernon said, “I should hope not, or believe me, I will return to chastise the one responsible.”
“I had his traveling trunks stored in the vicarage for the day his son, I mean his daughter, came to collect them,” the vicar promised quickly.
“Sims will collect the trunks,” Algernon demanded. “Now, I wish for you to arrange a headstone for Mr. Black’s grave. He was sixty years old, born in Leeds, and for the inscription…” He thought a moment. “Magnus Black. Father. Teacher.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” the vicar agreed. “I’ll fetch those trunks for you now.”
Sims took the vicar away, gesturing for a few of the grooms to follow them into the churchyard to help carry the trunks. Algernon left them to it and returned to Maggie, who hadn’t moved, other than to lower her head farther.
He stopped behind her, glaring down at the unmarked grave. “When my father died, I did not attend his burial. I have still not visited his grave even after a year.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “There is so much I wanted to say to him.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “I was angry with him for so long.”
“Fathers have that effect on us,” Algernon agreed.
“He put every boy he met on a pedestal,” she complained.
“Even I, and I certainly did not deserve it,” he added.
“You were different. You wanted to be my friend and you were. That meant a lot to me. When the other boys were cruel, Papa always said it was my fault. That I provoked disagreement.”
Algernon’s temper returned, and he glared at the grave even harder. If Mr. Black had been alive, he would have given him the proper set down he so richly deserved for making Maggie feel inferior to anyone else in his life.
But Mr. Black wasn’t here anymore. Algernon was, and he had to think of Maggie’s needs today, and for the immediate future as well. Ranting at her dead father would not do her any good. She could not remain sitting alone in a graveyard. She might catch a chill.
He approached her and helped her stand, brushed off her long skirts, and held out his arm.
Maggie curled hers through his, leaning against him as if she had little strength left. After a few steps, Algernon slipped an arm around her back quickly, ready to support her on the way back to his carriage if need be. He was not leaving her behind. There was nothing for her here anymore.
He stopped and glanced back at the grave one last time. “Farewell, Mr. Black,” he said. “Thank you for bringing Maggie into my life.”
Maggie pressed her face into his chest but did not cry, and he led her slowly back to his carriage, avoiding the vicar entirely.
By the time he got there, he was almost carrying her.
The grooms stood in a line, hats removed, heads bowed in sympathy for her sudden loss.
Sims must have told them what had transpired.
What Maggie had found in this lonely place.
Inside the carriage, Maggie turned away from him. “You can leave me at the next good-sized town.”
“I’m not leaving you anywhere, Maggie. We’re bound for London together now, and I won’t hear you say otherwise.”
Her head rose a little. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re impossible?”
“Not to my face yet, but that will never stop me from being this way. And in your case, we will inevitably argue about my behavior time and again. I help my friends, and right now, you need me.”
Maggie had not always done what he wanted as a young girl.
After a while at Ravenswood, she’d shown herself to be strong-minded and obstinate, not having anyone to tell her how young ladies were meant to behave, either.
And that’s what he’d liked about her most. She had never done what he’d demanded she do.
She’d grounded him. Made him see that he could not always have his way.
But today he would.
When her head bowed again, Algernon could not stand to see her that way. She was not alone or without a friend.
He reached for her, gently pulling her across the bench and then onto his lap. She buried her face against his throat and held fast to him as he hoped she might.
He set his cheek to the top of her head and sighed. He would gladly give Maggie whatever comfort she required for the rest of their journey to London…and perhaps far beyond that moment, too.