Page 33 of No Duke of Mine

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?”