Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Maggie scurried after the duke from one shop to another, eyes wide at the abundance of both necessary and frivolous goods on display for purchase in London. She had struggled to keep up with him at times, as his longer legs ate up the distance easier than hers could.
Every time she found something to admire, he would abruptly decide he’d seen enough, and if the shop offered nothing of interest to her, he lingered there until she was on the verge of leaving without him.
If this was the life of a maid employed in London, she was certainly ill-suited to the position. Algernon had been right all along, and she realized his indifferent, haughty behavior that day was solely to point out the flaw in her plan.
She sighed when they stopped before another establishment and shifted her weight from one aching foot to another as she awaited his decision to enter or not.
There were no markings on the doors, and it seemed shabbier than the other places he’d patronized. But upon entry, she discovered a dressmaker toiled in this shop, and she looked at him in surprise.
However, the duke did not explain his reasons for being here. He immediately sought out the modiste and spoke only to her in so soft a voice, Maggie could not understand what was being said, not as he had done with every other proprietor he’d patronized that day.
The wealth of fabric around Maggie, all beautiful and exotic, claimed her full attention, and she could not resist touching some of the nearest examples on display. She became so engrossed that she didn’t realize she was being spoken to until someone touched her sleeve.
A shop assistant stood at her elbow. Her smile was excited but hesitant. “Do you see something you like?”
“No,” Maggie said quickly, folding her hands at her waist again. She did not want to offer the wrong impression that she could afford anything here. She was supposed to be a lowly servant in service to a demanding duke.
She cast an anxious glance at Algernon and found him watching her with an unreadable expression on his face.
“What about this one?” the woman asked, presenting a bolt of fabric to Maggie for inspection.
The duke raised a brow, and she looked down.
It was a beautiful dark shade of blue silk, shot through with slub yarns that gave it a wonderful texture beneath her fingers. Maggie wanted it immediately for a new gown for herself. But of course, she could never afford it, nor allow the duke to think she might want him to buy it for her.
She shook her head quickly as she spotted a sly twist of the duke’s lips before he turned away, fussing with something on the counter and pushing it toward the modiste.
Maggie glanced at the shop assistant. “It is very beautiful.”
“The duke has approved any purchase of fabric you deem worthy of his sister-in-law as a gift.”
Maggie blinked. “Sister-in-law?”
The assistant frowned at her. “Yes. The woman he’s here to arrange a new winter wardrobe for. Please, something must suit. He has already paid the proprietor.”
Maggie glanced over at the duke as he returned his hat to his head. “I will return in an hour,” he said. “Make the choices. The modiste has the designs and how many gowns are to be made in each style.”
Astonished, Maggie watched him leave the shop, oddly disappointed he was still purchasing presents for his family. But he was trusting her to make sensible choices for a sister-in-law, and that she could easily do.
She chose the dark blue silk and four other fabrics she was shown that would keep a lady warm for the coming winter. They were rather plain but practical, and easy for the modiste to work with.
Dress patterns had already been chosen by the duke, so she was not shown them. And since the duke had suggested she and his sister-in-law were of similar size and height, that meant Maggie’s measurements would be taken, too.
It took a whole hour, and when she was done, she hurried outside, exhausted and wishing to return home. The duke was seated inside his carriage, and he was reading while he waited.
All the gifts he had bought today had been piled up on the rear-facing seat during her absence from the carriage. Maggie hastily climbed inside, resigned to sitting closer to him than was probably wise.
But thanks to her pretense of being a servant, the camaraderie of their first days together was gone, and she desperately missed his warmth.
She turned her eyes from him and stared out at London’s streets, which were alive with activity despite the leaden skies above.
Her heart was weary again, and she sighed softly.
They passed grand residences similar to the duke’s, green squares, and dozens and dozens of carriages.
The people, all going about their own business, hardly noticed the duke’s carriage passing them by.
She sat back after a moment and found the duke watching her, his book closed but still in his hands. “It’s something to experience, isn’t it? London in all its glory.”
She nodded.
“I wanted to be the one to show you around today,” he admitted. “I know you’re considering staying in London.”
“I never said that I would stay,” she said quickly, but where she belonged was certainly on her mind.
“You’re sensible to be thinking about the future,” he said. “If you’re looking for a place to belong, London offers many opportunities for you, but not as a maid, I trust.”
“No,” she agreed with him. “I am ill-suited to taking orders from lofty men. I would also like something that will challenge me more.”
The duke grunted. “What do you have in mind now?”
“Perhaps I could find a position with a professional bent.”
He raised a brow.
“An assistant to a banker, or even a solicitor,” she suggested. “I should have liked to study the law, but my father would not hear of it.”
“You’re smart enough for it.”
“It is only an idea.”
He nodded. “Did you enjoy meeting the modiste?”
“I spoke with the assistant more.”
“It will amuse you then to know the assistant was the modiste. The older woman acts as the proprietor to ensure the modiste is treated fairly by her customers and isn’t robbed blind. Society does not seem to value the creativity of young, ambitious women.”
“Oh,” Maggie said, saddened that the young woman had to pretend she was not the most important person in the shop. “The poor girl.”
“Poor? That poor girl will charge me an arm and a leg to make those gowns as fast as I want them made. But her work is always flawless.”
She looked at him in surprise. “You’ve purchased gowns there before?”
“For a past mistress,” he confessed, after a slight hesitation.
Maggie blinked, and then shook her head. Of course, he’d kept a mistress in London. A duke was hardly likely to remain celibate.
“I send my friends there all the time,” he confided.
“Your friends who have mistresses,” she said slowly and then glanced over at him. “Do you have a mistress now?”
“No. I parted company with my last a year ago.”
“Why?”
“It was time for a change,” he said with a careless shrug, and then proceeded to describe their locations as the carriage made a slow circuit of the best neighborhoods nearest his. He even mentioned the possible wealth or occupations of the people who might live in each square.
None of them, the squares or the occupations, immediately appealed to Maggie. But not many women could have careers in this day and age. Gentlemen did, and she stored that information away in the unlikely event she ever needed it.
Eventually, the carriage returned to Bond Street and came to a stop before another establishment. “More shopping?”
“The best kind,” he promised. The duke exited first and held out his hand to her. “Come, Maggie, there is something particular I wish to show you now.”
Maggie put her hand in his and he led her directly into Hatchards, a bookseller her father had spoken of with reverence many times but never brought her to see.
The bell on the door tinkled, announcing them. Algernon strode ahead to speak with the old man standing behind the counter—the proprietor, she assumed—and passed him something. He received a nod in return, and then leaned back against the counter.
The older man headed toward the front door and locked it.
He pulled the blinds down as well and then came to her side.
“Miss Black, please accept my sincerest condolences for the loss of your father. Mr. Black sent many a wealthy young man to my door over the years. Having you visit is the coup de grace of my career.”
She blinked. “Do you know me?”
“Your father spoke of you often. Regretted the shortcomings of his purse to send you all the books he found here for his students.”
Maggie glanced at the duke and noticed he was shaking his head slowly.
He peeled himself off the counter, sending the proprietor away with the flick of his hand.
“We have the shop to ourselves to peruse for the afternoon. No one will see or distract you from your heart’s desire.
Consider it a belated birthday present, years of them, delivered all at once. ”
She rushed to him. “I don’t need—”
Algernon put a finger over her lips. “Will you never tire of arguing with me?”
“Probably not,” she admitted around the press of his finger.
His finger disappeared. “Then you will need to find a home with someone who will accept that habit of yours.”
“So far as I know, that only describes you.”
He pursed his lips. “You could work for me.”
“I do not think that’s…”
“Why not work for me? I pay well, and would allow you time for study.”
“What position could you possibly offer me?”
“Right now, I need a secretary,” he said slowly. “Sims has acted in the role for some time.”
“Then you should promote him,” she countered.
“I would, but then I would have to hire a new valet. I would rather do both after I marry.”
“After I’m gone,” she whispered.
“Two things I don’t wish to discuss today,” he said, and Maggie nodded, agreeing that the less said about the future, the better. It would only make the day sad.
She did not want to be sad.
She wanted to forget.
Maggie inhaled deeply and spun about, admiring the bookshelves. “I’ve no idea where to start.”
His hands settled on the tops of her shoulders, and he pushed. “Anywhere.”
She ran into a section, letting her fingers walk across the spines, reading as she went.
She pulled out the first book that caught her eye and read the first few pages before putting it back.
She continued that way around the large vaulted chamber, after noticing that Algernon was similarly engrossed across the room.
The bookseller came toward her, carrying a steaming cup of tea, and set it down on top of a stack of large books. “Have you found anything you want yet?”
“Everything,” she said with a soft laugh. “But nothing I cannot live without yet.”
Eventually, she did find a book that fascinated her, and she hugged it against her chest. Suddenly, Algernon was there, and he gently pulled it out of her hands before carrying it to the proprietor. She noticed him add hers to the other books that littered the countertop.
The duke had made a great number of selections. Curious about his choices, she went to see what Algernon had picked out for himself. She found they were all books that interested her, too, and she smiled.
“I should love to read these one day,” she called out to him.
“You may read them first, since you are faster at it than I. Perhaps you will read some to me before bed.”
Maggie noticed the proprietor glancing between them and smiling.
“It always gladdens my heart to see young people together who share a common interest in books,” the man said with a wink.
“He’s generous with everyone,” she assured him, blushing as she returned to her perusal of the shelves around her. She and Algernon had many things in common, but none that did her any real good, and because of that, sadness crept up on her again, and remained with her for the rest of the day.