Captain Durant's Countess(11)

“I can find my own way back, I do assure you.” She found it impossible to disentangle her arm from his.

“I also wanted the opportunity to give you this.” He thrust a small box into her hand.

“What is it? You should not be giving me gifts, you know. It isn’t right.”

“Be forewarned. Anyone can tell you I never do the right thing.”

That was certainly true so far. The captain stopped walking, and Maris stumbled.

Betsy barely avoided careening into them, looking far too interested in the box once she righted herself.

“Betsy, I believe I left my handkerchief in Mrs. Bernard’s shop. Could you fetch it for me, please?”

The maid’s disappointment was obvious, but she left them alone.

“Open it.”

“On the street? You’re mad.”

“Indubitably. I’m here with you, am I not? Here, I’ll do it if you won’t.” He quickly opened the box. The butterfly hatpin twinkled on a bed of midnight blue velvet.

“How did you . . .”

He couldn’t have known it had caught her eye unless he was a mind reader. And if he was a mind reader, she devoutly hoped he couldn’t untangle her jumbled thoughts.

She was unused to getting gifts of any kind. Henry gave her unlimited pin money, but had never had a sentimental inclination in his life. Birthdays and Christmases had passed unacknowledged.

Maris closed the box. “You shouldn’t have. I cannot accept this.”

He smiled at her, unperturbed. “Yes, you can. Consider it an apology. We met under rather indelicate circumstances. I was, to put it bluntly, a cad. One small gift cannot even begin to express my shame.”

Maris stared at him. Hard. There was a definite spark of mischief in his eyes. “You are no more ashamed than I am Queen Elizabeth.”

Reynold Durant’s smile broadened. “I see I cannot put anything over on you, Lady Kelby. But it’s a pretty little thing, and it suits you. Here, let me.” He took the package from her hand and pulled the pin from its velvet. Before she knew it, he was sliding the butterfly into the purple cap on her head.

Right on the street. Where anyone might see them. The act was so intimate, Maris lost her power of speech, which seemed to be a recurring condition in the captain’s presence. Betsy had been goggling at them, but her eyes would be rolling straight out of her head to the pavement below if she was there.

Durant stepped back. “There. Now you are truly à la mode.” He tucked the box into a pocket and placed her leaden arm into the crook of his elbow. “I shall make arrangements to join you at Kelby Hall by the beginning of next week.”

It was Thursday. Maris would spend all the next day traveling. Thank heavens the captain would not be shut up in the Kelby coach with her. She would need a day or two simply to recover from the day’s attentions.

How on earth would this all work? She needed to talk to Henry. But what could she say that wouldn’t worry him? He was so desperate to deny David his birthright. Damn primogeniture and entail. It was not as if men were any wiser than women in estate management. Maris left the running of the house itself to her capable staff, but had long helped Henry and Mr. Woodley with estate matters. Henry was a generous landlord and employer, but more out of indifference than anything else. He assumed money would smooth the way so he wouldn’t have to be bothered with petty domestic details.

Well, this one domestic detail he’d have to discuss. Captain Reynold Durant’s improper deportment was a complication they couldn’t afford to ignore.





Chapter 5


When the crested coach rolled up the long copper beech avenue, it was close to midnight. Maris had finally fallen asleep some miles back, but was gently shaken awake by Betsy.

“We’re home, my lady.”

Flambeaux were lit, and footmen scurried out into the dark, joining the outriders in divesting the carriage of its occupants and baggage. The December night air was chilly, and Maris wrapped the fur carriage robe closer before she abandoned it altogether. She must look a fright. She’d discarded her hat hours ago, and her gray traveling costume was wrinkled. Her new clothes were safely packed in the trunk in the boot, but she picked up the book she’d purchased for Henry. He would be up despite the hour. It seemed he slept less and less lately, but did not lose a fraction of his keen intelligence despite his fatigue.

Maris knew where to find him, but wasn’t sure she’d find the words to tell him what she had done. She waved away Betsy’s offer to freshen up and headed straight for the library. The room was bright as daylight with candelabra on all flat surfaces. Her husband’s face lit with a smile as she approached, and he pushed himself up from his chair.

Where he had once been tall—as tall as Captain Durant—he now stooped a bit. His black hair had turned silver before Maris married him, but he was still a handsome man. When she was a child, he’d treated her like an extra daughter, but she had worshipped him, making her own father a little jealous.

Apart from their difficulties in the bedroom, the marriage had been everything Maris had ever hoped for. They shared common interests, and he was the only man who did not make her nervous. The seventh earl of Kelby respected her mind and treated her as an equal. Henry knew her better than she knew herself, as he proved immediately.

“Maris, my dear, what have you been up to? You look guilty as sin. And don’t try to fob me off with a book, even if it’s one I’ve been longing to get my hands on.”

Maris put the book on the desk and sidled around it, enfolding herself in Henry’s open arms. She was safe there, had always been. She cupped his thin cheek and kissed it. While he had been unable to perform in the strictest sense, their marriage bed had not always been cold. Much to her embarrassment, Henry had tended to her in the earliest stages of the marriage, and she knew what it felt like to flame under a man’s touch.

David Kelby had ruined that comfort for her.

She searched Henry’s face, pleased to see his dark eyes bright and unclouded. “How are you feeling? Have you been eating?”

“Mrs. O’Neill has been even more terrifying than you are. I’ve behaved just as I should in your absence. I missed you.”

“And I you.”

He raised a white brow. “But?”

“Oh, Henry. I may have done a foolish thing.”

“Sit down, my love, and tell me all about it. Shall I ring for tea?”

She shook her head and left the warmth of his embrace with reluctance. Her gloved fingers picked nervously at her gray skirts. She couldn’t sit down and face Henry’s sympathetic gaze, didn’t deserve his affection. She’d betrayed him once to her regret, and was about to do so again. This time, at his bidding.

Maris was heartsick, but knew how much a child would mean to Henry to carry on Kelby Hall’s mission. David was no fit steward for the treasures within.

But would Captain Reynold Durant’s son have appreciation for its history?

“I-I went to London, as you know,” she began, once her husband was seated back in his chair.

He pushed aside the papers he’d been working on and folded his hands in expectation. “Yes. I hope you didn’t spare any expense on your purchases. You’ve worked too hard lately.”

Maris was certain Madame Bernard’s bill would be astronomical. “I did buy a few things. But that was not the true purpose of the visit.” She took a breath. “I found Captain Durant.”

The only sound in the room was the quiet rumble of the fire. The room was overwarm, but Henry said his old bones craved the heat of the Tuscan sun. He was staring at the leather blotter with particular intensity.

Maris stole a glance at him. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

He raised his black eyes to hers. “I asked you to leave it to me, Maris. This business is not fit for a lady. Perhaps there’s still time to find someone else.”

“Henry! You are forgetting I’m smack in the middle of ‘this business.’ ” She would leave aside his claim of sufficient time. Mr. Ramsey had not been especially encouraging about procuring another gentleman for this deviant purpose. “C-Captain Durant has agreed to come to Kelby Hall within a few days.”

“How did you ever persuade him? His last letter was most definitive. He did not want the job after all.”

“I didn’t seduce him, if that’s what you are implying,” Maris said, stung.

Henry chuckled. “Nay, you haven’t an ounce of seduction in you, my love. You’re a good girl, more’s the pity. If we had met when I was a young man, things would have been different. You’ve always been an apt pupil.” He sighed and picked up his spectacles. “So Durant changed his mind. He doesn’t want more money, does he?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“He said something about a sick sister.”