Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Maggie pushed back from the duke’s desk and stood, knowing there was nothing left to do that day until he returned.
All correspondence had been opened, read, and set out in neat piles for his attention when he had a moment to spare.
Algernon had been unusually busy and distant for days, preferring to mingle with society rather than be at home with her.
Not a word had been said about his courtship with Lady Kent, though, and she assumed he was meeting with the woman. Any day now, she expected to hear an announcement, but he’d said he didn’t want to discuss his future marriage, so she did not dare question him again.
Though Maggie was incredibly curious about how the courtship was going.
Of course, her interest was entirely selfish.
No wife would permit Maggie to remain a secretary under her roof, or near her husband if she learned that Maggie had kissed him.
But she enjoyed the work, expanding her understanding of Algernon’s rarified world.
He had so much going on, great debts, and she was gratified that he trusted her to know so much about his situation.
But it would all end when he married.
Not that she had any real regrets about her short-lived affair with Algernon, or that it had ended already. She couldn’t help but like him still. She would have encouraged a courtship between them if he hadn’t been born so far above her and desperately needed the funds.
She sighed and drifted out of the room, encountering the butler in the front hall, who only nodded to her and then went on his way again.
The servants did not seem to know quite what to make of her. She wasn’t treated as a servant or even as a guest. She occupied a guest room now, but took all her meals alone since Algernon was always out at that hour.
Though she worked for the duke as his secretary, she still had the freedom to sit and read all afternoon, and all night if she wanted to, as well. The duke encouraged her to do as she pleased while he was away.
He claimed to appreciate her efforts to act as his secretary, but if she faltered, it was clear that Sims would quickly resume the activities and be glad of the challenge.
Idleness did not suit Maggie at all, so she entered the duke’s library and looked around for a distraction. The shelves burst with unread volumes, but she felt no immediate compulsion to pick up a book to read right now, and that was rare. She could not concentrate.
She had something on her mind, and today seemed a good day to close another chapter in her life.
She went upstairs, intending to return to her room, but stopped at the top landing when she heard the rush of footsteps. They came from the direction of the duke’s bedchamber, though he was supposed to be out still. They came and went, yet neither the valet nor any other servant appeared.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she approached the door to Algernon’s chambers, which had been left slightly ajar, to discover what was going on.
She put her ear to the wood.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
Was someone dancing in there?
She pushed the door open a little more, immediately spotting Sims twirling about on his own, with his chin lifted high in the air. His arms were extended stiffly, as if he held a dance partner.
He spotted her and came to an awkward, abrupt stop. He smoothed down his waistcoat and faced her. His smile was strained, his face flaming, as if he was fighting embarrassment. “Can I be of assistance, Miss Black?”
“Oh, no. I was just…” she stammered. “I just wanted you to know I have finished in the study for the day.”
“Very good, Miss Black.”
Sims was now a little more distant than he’d first been. Her appointment as secretary to the duke had caused a strain between them. She wanted to fix that, but it seemed impossible. “There was not very much mail of importance today,” she told him.
“Sometimes there is,” he answered, his tone clipped.
She bit her lip, worried that her elevation to secretary had truly offended him. “Perhaps you would care to glance through the duke’s new letters yourself, just to be sure I missed nothing of great importance. I suppose he will not be back for some time to check himself.”
He thought about it for a long moment, and then smiled a little. “It can help to know ahead of time what needs to be laid out for him for special occasions.”
“I’m certain you have the right to look at his mail still.” She smiled quickly, hoping that her suggestion would somewhat clear the air between them. She had not meant to exclude him. “Do you always practice alone?”
He swallowed. “Yes, of course.”
“Might I make a suggestion?”
“Of course, Miss Black,” he said, face falling.
“It is a small thing. When you do have a real partner in your arms, make sure to look down at her now and then. Women respond well to eye contact and the gentle squeeze of their fingers.”
Sims laughed softly. “I had noticed that.”
“I’m glad.”
Maggie backed away from the door. Sims would never be a close friend of hers, but she liked the man. He was industrious, efficient, and usually quick to laugh. She understood why Algernon valued him so much, and she felt bad for taking away a position he’d aspired to.
She headed directly for her room and eyed her father’s trunks, still stacked where the servants had moved them a few days ago, and rolled up her sleeves.
Then she took a deep breath and unbuckled the straps that bound the first one securely before lifting the lid on the contents.
Her father’s cologne, the distinctive scent of him and books, hit her like a punch in the stomach.
She steadied herself and reached for the first garment.
His heavy winter coat seemed far shabbier and lighter than she remembered it being.
Papa had occasionally wrapped her in it on particularly cold days when she was very young.
But that had been a long time ago. Back when she’d been fussed over, and he’d truly seen her potential and not that of other people’s children, as more important.
The shabby coat only served to remind her how much time had passed since their terrible argument.
If he’d changed toward her over the years, she’d never know now.
She fingered her years-old gown, too, the last gift he’d ever happily provided her.
Affection from him had ended abruptly through no fault of her own because of one of his precious boys.
Maggie buried her nose in the fabric, overcome with bitterness about the past and assailed by fear and loneliness for the future. Her eyes stung with tears she didn’t want to shed over him. She had to forget her disappointment, but she might never forgive.
She put the coat on her bed eventually, but as she looked up from it, she noticed Sims standing out in the hall, watching her warily. “Yes, Sims?”
“I heard a sob, and I was concerned. Is everything all right, Miss Black?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” She smiled and gestured around her. “I am finally looking into my father’s trunks.”
He advanced a step to see them. “Might I be of assistance? I handled the emptying of the old duke’s chambers for the family when he passed. It can be a difficult time.”
“Well, then perhaps you can help me after all. I am not certain what to do with my father’s old clothing.”
“His Grace sent everything down to the servants’ hall, and what was not wanted there went to the poor of the village.”
Maggie nodded. “Could you help me with that? Making the offer and sending the unwanted items away?”
“I would be happy to,” he assured her, heading toward the trunk and lifting out a shirt. “It has been my experience that clothing is the hardest for the bereaved. The smell, the reminder of happier times, tugs on the heart.”
“Yes, I know what you mean. But there are few happy times that I remember now involving my father.” Her thoughts about her father were still tied up in anger and regret over his distrust.
Sims nodded in sympathy. “Then I will make short work of this and take them away immediately.”
Maggie exhaled a shaky breath and stood back as her father’s clothing was sorted, pockets checked, and then removed from the room.
Left alone again, Maggie peeked into the bottom of each trunk. Her father carried a lot of papers and journals with him. His lessons for his precious students.
Maggie considered throwing them all into the fire to burn, the way her anger still did.
Yet, his lessons had been her work for a time, too. Father had practiced all his lessons with Maggie first. Testing her and correcting his notes to help instruct others.
She had been his most constant student, and perhaps his smartest. Only Algernon’s test scores had come close to hers, although she had no way to know how his most recent students had fared.
She set out all the papers, journals, and such by the age of the students he’d taught. By the time she was done, she had covered her entire bed, and the valet had returned.
“What’s all this?”
“My father’s life. Lessons. Study materials. Everything he took to the classroom and each new employer.”
“May I?” Sims took a peek at one pile when she nodded, leafing through a book of instructions for geometry. “I had nothing like this as a boy.”
“What did you have?”
“Apples, oranges, and my long legs to mark out feet and yards.”
The simple image made her smile. “So you had an active education?”
“You could certainly call it that. After a while, I certainly ran away from the classroom more often than not. I do regret that of late.”
Maggie frowned. “Why?”
He shrugged, and his eyes lowered. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I think it does. Tell me why?”
“The duke… I hoped he might have promoted me to be his full-time secretary one day, but he has you now, so he likely never will.”
Maggie winced. “I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your decision.”
But it was in a way. Her presence and Algernon’s need to support her had deprived Sims of a chance for advancement. “I think… I think I won’t be here for much longer, Sims.”