Captain Durant's Countess(12)

“Yes, so he told me. His concern for her is in his favor, I suppose.” It went some way to explain why he had ever agreed to this scandalous scheme to begin with.

“What did you think of him, Maris?”

She felt like she was treading into quicksand. She loved Henry, but there was no denying Captain Durant was an attractive man. Henry would know at once if she was lying. His illness and age had not robbed him of any of his acuity. She ceased her pacing and dropped into a chair. “He’s very handsome.”

“That should make it a little easier to bear, then. The intimacy,” Henry clarified, as if she needed explanation. “I fully appreciate the sacrifice you’ll be making for me, Maris. This goes well beyond humoring an old man. You’ve been a good wife to me, a great helpmeet. Some might say you’ve thrown your youth away on me, missed opportunities. Captain Durant will go a little ways to making it up to you.”

“I don’t need any making up! You’ve been everything that is kind and good. Even when you are consumed with your studies, I’ve been consumed right along with you!”

“My little bluestocking,” Henry chuckled. “There is more to life than books and bits of shattered pottery. Even I know that.” He placed the spectacles on his nose and shuffled the papers he’d been reading back into order. “You must be exhausted. Go on to bed. We’ll talk about this more in the morning.”

“W-Won’t you come to bed with me?” They no longer shared a room, but if this fiction of creating a child together was to be preserved, they needed to appear close again.

“I suppose you are right. It is very late, isn’t it? But you know how restless I am, Maris. You won’t get a wink of sleep.”

“I don’t care about sleep. I just want you to hold me, Henry. Like you used to.”

“It would be my privilege,” he said softly. “Go on upstairs. I’ll join you shortly.”

But when Maris woke at dawn, she was alone.





It took Reyn two days’ travel to join the Kelbys. As usual, he visited his sister on Sunday, but stayed the night to break up the journey and give old Phantom a rest. He’d purchased two sober, scholarly-looking waistcoats, and a pair of clear glass spectacles that, in his own eyes, did nothing to make him appear any smarter. But if they helped trick the servants at Kelby Hall—and the villain David—they were a small price to pay out of his ill-gotten gains.

It was still afternoon when he rode down the beech avenue, the golden façade of Kelby Hall glowing in the sunlight. Despite his disinclination, he’d read up a bit on the house in one of those “great families of Britain” books. The old earl’s ancestors had stolen the honey-colored stone from a nearby monastery. The building had an ecclesiastical look about it still, with winged stone angels over the carved oak front door and long gothic windows on the ground floor. What Reyn was about to do beneath its gabled roofs flew in the face of most of the Commandments.

The massive front door was opened by several footmen in silver and green livery well before he was anywhere near it. A groom appeared instantly to lead Phantom away, and Reyn was ushered into the vast paneled entry hall by the butler Amesbury, who was almost as old and starchy as the earl.

At one time, the room would have welcomed travelers with banquets and minstrels, but it was empty save for some massive paintings, tatty tapestries, and a couple uncomfortable-looking chairs before a sputtering fire at the far end. A waste, that. Who would sit there waiting for someone to knock on the door? Not that one would even need to knock. The staff at Kelby Hall seemed frighteningly on top of things.

That might prove to be a problem. Reyn took the spectacles out of his pocket and slid them onto his nose, hoping the length of it would keep them up. Durants tended to have long noses, giving them a Continental look. While in the army, he’d been teased for resembling the enemy. The back of his ears itched already from the metal stems.

Amesbury bent slightly at the waist. “We were expecting you, Captain. If you follow me, I’ll show you to your room. I trust you will find everything to your liking.”

Reyn followed Amesbury up a wide oak staircase, sure he’d be satisfied with the accommodations. He could tell the butler a thing or two about sleeping on the ground, and being glad of it—glad to be alive.

Reyn’s new London lodging was pleasant enough, but nothing compared to the elegant suite of rooms he was led to, once they’d climbed another set of stairs and walked to the end of an endless hallway. Old Amesbury was a bit breathless, but pointed out the desk in a corner of the sitting room, fully equipped for a man of letters with pens, pots of ink, a stack of foolscap, and clean ledgers. An open door led to a light-filled bedroom, which overlooked the tree-lined avenue. Through yet another door was a dressing room with its own copper tub and cedar wardrobe. A brace of maids entered with towels and jugs of water for the washstand, and a footman delivered Reyn’s well-stuffed saddlebag.

“I trust your trunks will be arriving shortly?” Amesbury asked.

Reyn had packed his most essential needs within the confines of the worn leather bag. He supposed it all looked inadequate for a month’s stay, but he wasn’t sure yet he’d be staying a month. If he did, he’d get a Christmas in the country out of it.

“My valet has it all in hand.” Reyn shrugged. Likely Gratton was drinking himself silly at that very moment in relief over not getting sacked. It had been a near thing once Reyn found out the man had directed Lady Kelby to the Reining Monarchs Society. If Reyn needed anything else for this “visit,” he could send word. The valet’s wages and his rent were paid up through the end of the year.

By January, Reyn might have a better idea how to spend his time as a civilian. Inventorying might prove interesting, if one didn’t want to read legible penmanship.

“Lord Kelby will see you in the library once you’ve refreshed yourself. Dinner will be brought to your rooms at eight o’clock, if that suits you.”

So, he wasn’t to dine with the family. Just as well. Reyn was not there as an honored guest, and he certainly did not have evening clothes with him. He was an employee, nothing more.

Not the sole hope of Clan Kelby.

“That suits me perfectly, Amesbury. I think I can remember where the library is.”

“Should you need assistance, sir, just ring. The staff is at your disposal. When it comes time for you to begin your duties, a set of stairs to the attics is convenient just through the door opposite your suite. You need not trouble yourself navigating all through the house.”

Clever of Lord Kelby to keep him confined to one end of the house like a mad uncle. But there must be other ways to gain entry to the attics, or Lady Kelby was going to attract unwanted attention coming too near his bedroom.

His meager belongings were swiftly unpacked and stowed, his face and hands cleaned of their road dirt, and his coat brushed, leaving no excuse not to locate the library. The architecture of the house was straightforward. Kelby Hall was one long rectangle of yellow stone divided by a center hall and numerous stairways. Everything eventually led back to the entrance hall in the middle of the house.

Reyn traversed it for the second time, noting its relative emptiness. All of the other ground floor rooms he passed had been overly furnished. It was as if Kelby Hall deliberately went out of its way not to make a grand impression, except for the sheer size of the room and its large fireplace. He could fit nearly all his friends—and there were a great many, for he was a good-natured fellow—in its interior, and they wouldn’t even have to duck. At one time, entire animals must have been roasted within, but the room now held an unwelcome chill.

He passed numerous footmen, standing tall along the corridors as any of his regiment on parade. How incredibly tedious. He would go mad rigged out in stiff livery, standing around waiting to be summoned.

The hurry up and wait of army life had been bad enough. Reyn was never so happy as when he was in the midst of battle or exploring a forest expecting the natives to jump out from behind the trees. Everything came into focus for him then. His objectives were clear—to save his scalp and preserve what was left of his skin, and keep his men safe. Such activity was not precisely restful, he realized. Ordinary people would find his delight in fright incomprehensible.

He wasn’t frightened as he tapped on the library door, but there was an unexpected constriction to his throat. He half expected one of the footmen to jump forward and open the door, but he managed to pull the knob all on his own.

The Earl of Kelby was hunched over a massive desk, strewn with papers from one corner to the other. He held a magnifying glass in his hand as well as wore half-moon spectacles. Presumably his weren’t for show. Reyn’s fingers went automatically to his own glasses and took them off. The earl followed suit and rose unsteadily from his chair.

“Camouflage, Captain Durant? I suppose Maris suggested them.”

Maris. Up till that moment, Reyn had not known her name. It suited her somehow, a firm name, but soft upon the tongue. Unusual, just like its owner.