Page 36 of No Duke of Mine

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Maggie breathed. In. Out. In. Out. But the discomfort around her chest remained the same. She stared at the ceiling of an elegant but unfamiliar room and listened to Algernon and his valet whispering by the door.

She didn’t know what to do. Her father was dead, and she was all alone.

She ought to cry, but no tears would come. She hadn’t shed a single one since she’d learned the news about her father. It was crushing to discover her suspicions were correct. Inside her was this vast chasm of nothingness now, where thoughts and anger over her father had once churned.

The door closed, and she slowly turned her head. Algernon was there, illuminated by firelight, silently watching her from a distance. They stared at each other across the room for a long time, and then he removed his coat, his boots, and climbed onto the bed beside her.

He lay on his side, not touching her or meeting her gaze, and eventually he reached for her hand to clasp.

She appreciated his silence and presence, because he was all she had for the moment.

He wriggled closer, pressed his head to hers, and kept it there.

Tears pricked the back of her eyes at the contact. Algernon was the best of men. Kind, considerate, and loyal when he had no reason to be bothered. A good friend, but a man she had to say goodbye to in the end.

He was going to marry another woman, no matter that it was wrong.

At last, the tears came. Maggie pressed her hands to her face, her composure undone by the warring forces of grief over her father and devastation over losing Algernon.

Algernon, unaware he was partly to blame for her tears, drew her into his arms and held her close against him, saying nothing as she railed silently about the injustices of her status in society. She was adrift, penniless and vulnerable. Her circumstances were unlikely to change for the better anytime soon.

But there was so much anger inside her that she almost couldn’t contain it. She clenched her fists to keep her thoughts to herself, even as Algernon continued to hold her through the worst of the storm, rubbing her back as if she were a child again and lost in another strange, unfamiliar house.

She was lost.

She had no one but Algernon right now, and he was going to marry someone else soon, for the money they would bring him to pay off his debts. He could not help her for long. She had to find her own way in the world.

Eventually, her tears dried up, but she couldn’t move away from Algernon’s familiar presence yet. “Where are we?”

“Home. London. Grosvenor Square. Don’t you remember arriving?”

“Not really.” She felt herself dazed even now. “The last thing I remember clearly was you kneeling by my side at my father’s grave.”

“Understandable. His death was a shock. Before we arrived, though, you had finally succumbed to sleep. I carried you from the carriage and put you here.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, though shocked that hours must have passed since she’d learned the truth.

Eventually, Algernon loosened his grip but remained close. “I’ll have tea sent up for you and then we’ll talk.”

“Yes, thank you,” she whispered again, anticipating a discussion that involved finding her somewhere to live. She was tempting scandal and putting his marriage in jeopardy by even being here. He had come to London for the sole purpose of taking a rich wife.

Yet, she knew nowhere to go.

“I imagine you’re not terribly hungry, but you should try to eat something, too,” Algernon announced, forever bossy.

“Have I eaten today?” she mused out loud, but she hardly cared for the answer her stomach gave.

“I assume not if you cannot remember.” Algernon was suddenly back and raised her face a little to press a kiss to her brow. “I’ll have food sent up soon, too.”

She could not eat. She wasn’t hungry. With Papa gone, what was the point of even getting up again? Of hoping for a better future and regaining his approval. Papa had forgotten her, and Algernon would too, eventually. She had only herself to worry about now, and like Algernon, she needed money.

She was not above working for her supper, yet the skills she had in abundance were usually the province of gentlemen. Mathematics, science, and a fascination with history were not traits wanted by many employers.

Maggie exhaled a shaky breath and moved her fingers slowly over Algernon’s chest. He stilled beneath her touch, and then covered her wandering hand. “You’re spending the rest of the day here in bed. You don’t have to do anything.”

She bit her lip. She could not object when she had no better alternative. “Whatever you think best, Your Grace,” she murmured, deferring to him because it was easier than making any real decisions for herself or her future.