Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
The way to manage grief was to keep busy.
Algernon had plenty of experience with that.
When his mother died, he had focused on helping his brothers come to terms with their sudden loss.
Inventing games, adventures, offering affection when needed, and, along with Nash, ensuring his younger brothers continued their education.
When father died, though, they were united in relief rather than sadness.
Algernon only had to nudge them into action again, and they eventually found their true vocations and partners.
It had been a satisfying endeavor, restoring order to his brothers’ lives.
But his work was done there. They had all married strong-minded women who suited their natures and kept them in line.
He watched Maggie picking at her food the next morning, her spirits low and her brow wrinkled by worry, and decided a distraction was called for.
He excused himself from the morning room table, pained to see that she barely noticed him going. He went immediately to speak to his butler to arrange for the carriage to be brought round.
“Shall I put the knocker on the door this morning, Your Grace?”
“No, I will be otherwise occupied today,” he announced.
He had confided in his butler about Maggie’s recent loss, to explain her low spirits and presence in the house.
He also explained that he’d known Maggie when they were children, and were still fond of teasing each other.
Not that she seemed likely to do so today.
However, he warned that she was used to speaking her mind to him and that she was not to be spoken of beyond the house on threat of dismissal.
Maggie just needed time and a place to grieve…but it was hard to watch, knowing of her late father’s neglect.
Magnus Black, his former tutor, had been devoted to his profession.
A true teacher in every sense of the word: encouraging to his pupils and committed to seeing them accomplish greatness.
What he lacked was the ability to see that greatness existed already in his only daughter.
Maggie could probably run rings around every pupil he’d ever had, especially Algernon, but likely never experienced a quarter of the praise from the man who’d meant the world to her.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. But there wasn’t a damn thing that could be done about it now to set things right between them.
Everyone wanted their parents to be proud of them. Maggie had been denied that.
So had Algernon.
He returned to the morning room to find her still seated at the table. Her plate was no emptier than when he had left. He sat beside her and took up her hand and found it cold. He chafed it between his own hands. “I have errands to run.”
“Of course,” she said, blinking out of her daze. “I should go, too.”
He squeezed her hand to keep her still. “That was what I was hoping you’d say. The carriage will be brought round in an hour for our outing.”
“I meant, I can’t stay here. I must leave. Find somewhere to stay in London and try to find a position. I have to earn my own way now.”
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back.
Unsurprised she had already formulated a plan, flawed as it was.
“If that is what you want, of course, I won’t stand in your way.
However, I know you. You don’t like rushing into any decision.
Take your time deciding where to go. Stay here until you’re sure. ”
She glanced his way. “What about your plans for marriage?”
He smiled quickly. “My plans are still plans at this time. I’m in no rush to reach the altar.” Algernon could not think about getting married when Maggie needed him more.
“It is not like you to delay,” she noted.
“Are you not pleased I am finally following your example to slow down and choose the right moment?” he asked, arching his brow.
A small smile touched her lips, and he counted that a great victory. “That would be a first.”
He grinned widely. “Go fetch your bonnet and cloak. It looks to be a dull day out there, and we might be gone for a while. I want to show you all my favorite places in London.”
She looked on the verge of refusing him, so he pulled her to her feet, spun her around to face the door, and set his hands on the top of her shoulders. Maggie allowed him to push her all the way to the bottom of the staircase.
The butler, at his post near the door, smothered a grin as he saw them together and wisely minded his own business.
Algernon removed his hands slowly from Maggie, although she hadn’t protested his handling at all. “Go. Hurry, Maggie. I’ll be here waiting for you.”
She went upstairs slowly, though, and Algernon was unable to ignore watching her walk away. After their recent kisses, and last night particularly, the sway of her body had become rather more interesting than it should be.
He desired her, but he knew seducing her was unwise, and bad for her, particularly now. It was odd, feeling the way he did about someone he’d known forever. Her kisses had unsettled him more than they should have, and he was trying not to think about the chance of stealing another.
But this was Maggie, someone he cared deeply about and had for a long time. He felt as protective of her as he was toward his brothers. But it was not the same, and he knew that very well. He had to think of her reputation, her future, even at the expense of his own interest.
The butler approached, gloves, hat, and greatcoat in hand. Algernon took them, one by one, but his attention remained on the empty staircase as he waited impatiently for Maggie to return to him.
When he had proposed to bring Maggie on his journey to London, he’d never imagined the difficulty he’d face letting her go again. He liked having her near too much. Having her by his side to laugh with brought him a great sense of satisfaction.
Finally, Maggie returned, wearing the same cloak over the same gown he’d first seen her in.
Not for the first time, he wanted to do something about that.
See her turned out in elegant finery befitting a lady of his acquaintance.
Not that she would agree with him spending money on her, though.
Maggie was brilliant but stubborn, and had fought against all his previous offers of help at first.
Providing her with a new wardrobe was bound to be refused, as well.
And still, he knew he would do it. How to make her stand still for measurements by a modiste, and then keep the gowns, escaped him at the present time, though.
He’d have to be sly about it, and have prepared arguments to convince her to accept.
He offered his arm but she refused him. They walked out of the house side by side, her with the hood of her cloak concealing her features, and he stood back as she climbed into the town carriage without aid.
Maggie took a seat facing the rear, and he joined her, unhappy with her decisions.
“What are your errands today?”
Maggie had always wanted to know what he was up to as a girl, and it seemed she still did as a woman in grief. “Gifts for my brothers’ children first.”
“Are you an indulgent uncle?”
He smiled. “I try not to spoil them too much. Nash has two sons and a daughter now, so that is a great novelty for Ravenswood. The last young girl to reside there for any length of time was you.”
“I was merely a visitor.”
“For a year. A very happy year it was, too,” he promised. “For me, particularly.”
Maggie turned her face away, but soon it was clear she had become spellbound by the sights and muted sounds beyond the carriage windows. He watched her in silence, amused by the way her eyes darted here and there, drinking it all in.
Maggie had never said where she’d been living these past years without her father, but he assumed it was some small out-of-the-way place with few shops. A village that held no great attraction or visitors.
Eventually, the town carriage stopped before a toy shop. A place where he’d purchased presents for his youngest brother, Stratford, years ago. He climbed out of the carriage first, and Maggie refused his aid this time as well.
She scrambled out alone and looked at him expectantly. “What should I do?”
“Do?”
“It seems appropriate that I behave as a servant might around you while in London,” she whispered.
“No one would believe you any servant of mine,” he warned.
“They will if you try to remember I am beneath you,” she suggested, folding her hands at her waist. “I am here to fetch and carry like any maid should, Your Grace.”
She was there to be distracted from her grief and her plan to find unworthy employment. Her misplaced deference only served to annoy him. He would never allow Maggie to demean herself in such a manner.
He took a step toward her, determined to make her see the truth. “We are equals, Maggie. Submission does not suit you.”
“No one but you ever believed I deserved more than I had,” she said firmly, chin rising in defiance. “Not even my father.”
“Arguing back only reinforces my opinion that you would make a poor servant. It is completely at odds with how a maid normally would behave.”
“This is what must happen if I am to stay with you,” she warned, jaw set in a stubborn line.
He drew breath to argue but decided against it at the last moment.
She could play at being a servant for one day—but he would make sure she didn’t want to continue by the end of it.
A maid had a hard life. Up early, run off their feet, underappreciated, usually falling into bed exhausted late at night.
Paid a pittance in most houses, and turned out immediately for any hint of indiscretion with a man.
A maid would never earn enough money or have time to spare to read, and certainly not continue their study of history, either.
He turned on his heel, snapped his fingers twice as he’d seen other pompous employers do, and expected her to follow.
Thankfully, she did.
Inside the toy shop, he took his time choosing gifts for his nephews and new niece, watching Maggie resist the lure of touching them all or voicing suggestions.
Usually, she was no meek wallflower when it came to speaking her opinions, and he had to hide his triumphant grin as she shifted her weight from foot to foot impatiently.
He showed her nothing, did not speak to her directly or ask her opinion, which he found hard to maintain. By the end, the proprietor turned an unfriendly eye toward her, and Algernon pretended he did not care.
But then a small cast figure of a woman caught his eye, resigned to a spot behind the more popular toy soldiers.
Only three inches tall, a woman with long flowing skirts and dark hair, reminding him of another piece he’d forgotten about until now.
A toy Maggie had kept with her at all times as a girl.
A piece his brother Jasper had thrown into the river at Ravenswood in a fit of temper with her.
It had unfortunately never been recovered.
His fingers itched to purchase the piece and right a wrong done to her so long ago. But today, he had to resist all sentiment, and turned away from it to complete his purchases.
The proprietor was overjoyed with his choices, wrapping each swiftly and making a great pile on the countertop. Algernon tossed some money at him, and when he left, he expected Maggie to collect the items.
She did not.
Algernon sent her back with a harsh rebuke for forgetting her duty. Maggie returned to the sidewalk, arms overflowing, face flaming as he told her to place the gifts inside the carriage and be quick about it.
When she returned, however, she offered him a hesitant smile. “Are you buying gifts for everyone in your family?”
“That would be absurd,” he murmured. “There are over one hundred living Sweets in England.”
“I meant your brothers and their wives, too. If Stratford may paint as often as he likes, he would surely enjoy a gift of brushes from you.”
Algernon grunted at her timely suggestion and marveled at her memory of their conversations. He did want his brother to paint a portrait of himself and his bride one day in the near future.
He turned away without further comment, walking toward another store and avoiding the one that sold brushes for painting, hating himself for what he was doing to her.
But he was determined to show Maggie that she wouldn’t last one day as a servant. It was not in her nature to take orders or like having her suggestions ignored.
The next shop sold snuff, and although he did not use it himself, his sister-in-law did. He entered the shop and made Maggie wait while he considered the selections.
The strong smell of tobacco made his eyes sting, and he finally glanced back to see her discreetly wiping at her eyes. Was it the snuff or grief or both? He could not remember if her father took snuff, and hoped he’d not created a situation that had unwittingly caused her pain.
He completed his purchase quickly, glad to leave the stink of the shop, and heard Maggie exhale her relief, too.
He sent her to the carriage to wait beside it while he visited a nearby coffee house, stalling for time.
From inside, he could see her shifting from foot to foot, craning her neck to see what kept him from her side.
He laughed softly to himself, finished his coffee, and strolled back outside in no great hurry.
He gestured to Maggie to join him, making her walk along Bond Street as far as he dared, all but ignored.
He was stopped by friends along the way.
People he could not introduce her to. Talked of the city, politics, and world events.
Many things that Maggie was sure to have an opinion about, but as a servant, she shouldn’t comment on.
He hoped she’d had enough of the charade. He certainly had. If he saw her flinch again, he might forget himself and take hold of her hand right here on the street, just to see her smile once more.
He finally turned and headed back toward the carriage, only to spy a small establishment he’d forgotten about. Struck by an inspired idea, he headed to the shop, hoping his point had been made well enough that he would not have to continue this foolishness tomorrow.