Page 35 of No Duke of Mine

“Sims will collect the trunks,” Algernon demanded. “Now, I wish for you to arrange a headstone for Mr. Black’s grave. He was sixty years old, born in Leeds, and for the inscription…” He thought a moment. “Magnus Black. Father. Teacher.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” the vicar agreed. “I’ll fetch those trunks for you now.”

Sims took the vicar away, gesturing for a few of the grooms to follow them into the churchyard to help carry the trunks. Algernon left them to it and returned to Maggie, who hadn’t moved, other than to lower her head farther.

He stopped behind her, glaring down at the unmarked grave. “When my father died, I did not attend his burial. I have still not visited his grave even after a year.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “There is so much I wanted to say to him.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “I was angry with him for so long.”

“Fathers have that effect on us,” Algernon agreed.

“He put every boy he met on a pedestal,” she complained.

“Even I, and I certainly did not deserve it,” he added.

“You were different. You wanted to be my friend and you were. That meant a lot to me. When the other boys were cruel, Papa always said it was my fault. That I provoked disagreement.”

Algernon’s temper returned, and he glared at the grave even harder. If Mr. Black had been alive, he would have given him the proper set down he so richly deserved for making Maggie feel inferior to anyone else in his life.

But Mr. Black wasn’t here anymore. Algernon was, and he had to think of Maggie’s needs today, and for the immediate future as well. Ranting at her dead father would not do her any good. She could not remain sitting alone in a graveyard. She might catch a chill.

He approached her and helped her stand, brushed off her long skirts, and held out his arm.

Maggie curled hers through his, leaning against him as if she had little strength left. After a few steps, Algernon slipped an arm around her back quickly, ready to support her on the way back to his carriage if need be. He was not leaving her behind. There was nothing for her here anymore.

He stopped and glanced back at the grave one last time. “Farewell, Mr. Black,” he said. “Thank you for bringing Maggie into my life.”

Maggie pressed her face into his chest but did not cry, and he led her slowly back to his carriage, avoiding the vicar entirely. By the time he got there, he was almost carrying her. The grooms stood in a line, hats removed, heads bowed in sympathy for her sudden loss. Sims must have told them what had transpired. What Maggie had found in this lonely place.

Inside the carriage, Maggie turned away from him. “You can leave me at the next good-sized town.”

“I’m not leaving you anywhere, Maggie. We’re bound for London together now, and I won’t hear you say otherwise.”

Her head rose a little. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re impossible?”

“Not to my face yet, but that will never stop me from being this way. And in your case, we will inevitably argue about my behavior time and again. I help my friends, and right now, you need me.”

Maggie had not always done what he wanted as a young girl. After a while at Ravenswood, she’d shown herself to be strong-minded and obstinate, not having anyone to tell her how young ladies were meant to behave, either. And that’s what he’d liked about her most. She had never done what he’d demanded she do. She’d grounded him. Made him see that he could not always have his way.

But today he would.

When her head bowed again, Algernon could not stand to see her that way. She was not alone or without a friend.

He reached for her, gently pulling her across the bench and then onto his lap. She buried her face against his throat and held fast to him as he hoped she might.

He set his cheek to the top of her head and sighed. He would gladly give Maggie whatever comfort she required for the rest of their journey to London…and perhaps far beyond that moment, too.