Page 42 of No Duke of Mine

When he had proposed to bring Maggie on his journey to London, he’d never imagined the difficulty he’d face letting her go again. He liked having her near too much. Having her by his side to laugh with brought him a great sense of satisfaction.

Finally, Maggie returned, wearing the same cloak over the same gown he’d first seen her in. Not for the first time, he wanted to do something about that. See her turned out in elegant finery befitting a lady of his acquaintance. Not that she would agree with him spending money on her, though. Maggie was brilliant but stubborn, and had fought against all his previous offers of help at first.

Providing her with a new wardrobe was bound to be refused, as well. And still, he knew he would do it. How to make her stand still for measurements by a modiste, and then keep the gowns, escaped him at the present time, though. He’d have to be sly about it, and have prepared arguments to convince her to accept.

He offered his arm but she refused him. They walked out of the house side by side, her with the hood of her cloak concealing her features, and he stood back as she climbed into the town carriage without aid.

Maggie took a seat facing the rear, and he joined her, unhappy with her decisions.

“What are your errands today?”

Maggie had always wanted to know what he was up to as a girl, and it seemed she still did as a woman in grief. “Gifts for my brothers’ children first.”

“Are you an indulgent uncle?”

He smiled. “I try not to spoil them too much. Nash has two sons and a daughter now, so that is a great novelty for Ravenswood. The last young girl to reside there for any length of time was you.”

“I was merely a visitor.”

“For a year. A very happy year it was, too,” he promised. “For me, particularly.”

Maggie turned her face away, but soon it was clear she had become spellbound by the sights and muted sounds beyond the carriage windows. He watched her in silence, amused by the way her eyes darted here and there, drinking it all in.

Maggie had never said where she’d been living these past years without her father, but he assumed it was some small out-of-the-way place with few shops. A village that held no great attraction or visitors.

Eventually, the town carriage stopped before a toy shop. A place where he’d purchased presents for his youngest brother, Stratford, years ago. He climbed out of the carriage first, and Maggie refused his aid this time as well.

She scrambled out alone and looked at him expectantly. “What should I do?”

“Do?”

“It seems appropriate that I behave as a servant might around you while in London,” she whispered.

“No one would believe you any servant of mine,” he warned.

“They will if you try to remember I am beneath you,” she suggested, folding her hands at her waist. “I am here to fetch and carry like any maid should, Your Grace.”

She was there to be distracted from her grief and her plan to find unworthy employment. Her misplaced deference only served to annoy him. He would never allow Maggie to demean herself in such a manner.

He took a step toward her, determined to make her see the truth. “We are equals, Maggie. Submission does not suit you.”

“No one but you ever believed I deserved more than I had,” she said firmly, chin rising in defiance. “Not even my father.”

“Arguing back only reinforces my opinion that you would make a poor servant. It is completely at odds with how a maid normally would behave.”

“This is what must happen if I am to stay with you,” she warned, jaw set in a stubborn line.

He drew breath to argue but decided against it at the last moment. She could play at being a servant for one day—but he would make sure she didn’t want to continue by the end of it. A maid had a hard life. Up early, run off their feet, underappreciated, usually falling into bed exhausted late at night. Paid a pittance in most houses, and turned out immediately for any hint of indiscretion with a man.

A maid would never earn enough money or have time to spare to read, and certainly not continue their study of history, either.

He turned on his heel, snapped his fingers twice as he’d seen other pompous employers do, and expected her to follow.

Thankfully, she did.

Inside the toy shop, he took his time choosing gifts for his nephews and new niece, watching Maggie resist the lure of touching them all or voicing suggestions. Usually, she was no meek wallflower when it came to speaking her opinions, and he had to hide his triumphant grin as she shifted her weight from foot to foot impatiently.

He showed her nothing, did not speak to her directly or ask her opinion, which he found hard to maintain. By the end, the proprietor turned an unfriendly eye toward her, and Algernon pretended he did not care.