Page 34 of No Duke of Mine

“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.