Captain Durant's Countess(14)

Maris Kelby had made it plain from the first moment she’d tracked him down that she wished to keep Reyn at a considerable distance.

The earl nodded and pointed to a bellpull not far from where they sat. “Would you ring for Lady Kelby? She is awaiting our summons. We shall all take tea together. I reckon you are tired from your journey and could use some refreshment before dinner.”

“I’d rather have a brandy, and that’s the truth,” Reyn said, rising.

“Dutch courage? My reports did not reveal you to be a habitual drinker, Captain.”

It should bother him more that Kelby had picked apart his life, but Reyn supposed it was understandable. Blood will out. “I am not. I’ve always preferred to have my wits about me.” Scattered as they sometimes are.

The occasion was so damned uncomfortable, Reyn welcomed a little blurring of his senses. He imagined Maris Kelby might like to take the edge off her fear as well.

She didn’t wish to get to know him any better or become his friend. He could understand that, but he was damned if she thought they could simply fit together like stiff wooden puzzle pieces. He had to woo her in a way that wouldn’t alarm her, and woo himself, too, since she was far from the kind of woman he was used to taking sport with, lately.

“Help yourself to the drinks table then.” Cut-glass decanters on a low sideboard twinkled in the sunlight.

Reyn rose, wishing he wouldn’t have to sit down again and make idle conversation with the Kelbys. How long could tea last? And when would they expect him to begin this infernal job? It was all so very wrong.

He poured amber liquid into a glass, not bothering to read the silver tag on the bottle. It didn’t matter what kind of liquor it was. It would never be enough.





Chapter 6


Maris smoothed the wine-colored ruffles on the bodice of her new dress, took a deep breath, and followed the servants with the tea cart into her husband’s library. Both men stood at her entrance, Henry rising much more slowly than Captain Durant. She kept her eyes on the earl’s face so Durant was just a dark smudge on the periphery of her vision.

The earl smiled. “Ah! Good afternoon, my dear. Would you do us the honor of pouring our tea? Or would you like another whiskey, Captain Durant?”

“No thank you, my lord. Good afternoon, Lady Kelby.”

The captain seemed subdued, which was a good thing. Kelby Hall could have an intimidating effect on the most well-connected visitor, and by Captain Durant’s own account, he was a nobody. Maris sat on the tufted leather sofa in the center of the room and waited for the maid and footman to arrange the tea table in front of it. Once they left, the men crossed the room, Henry leaning heavily on his stick as he made his way to her. Maris wondered where his bath chair was. He had been using it more and more of late, complaining that every time he took a step he could hear his knees and ankles crack like rifle fire. No doubt he didn’t want to appear at a disadvantage before Captain Durant. Henry had once been a vigorous man, and it was difficult for him to accept his limitations. When she had been a little girl, he’d been very dashing.

She prepared Henry’s cup as Captain Durant took the seat to her right. That might have been rude to her guest, but it was her foolish way of letting him know that her husband would always come first, no matter what lay ahead between them. “How do you take your tea, Captain?” she asked, once she had given Henry a plate of small sandwiches and biscuits.

“Just a bit of sugar, my lady.”

Maris’s hand shook only a little as she dropped a lump into the captain’s cup. She’d skip the sugar in her own. The tongs felt clumsy between her fingers today.

Durant helped himself to a piece of fruitcake as she sat back and swallowed a mouthful of strong India tea. Henry had already relegated his untouched plate to the table next to him. She would not nag at him, but hoped he would do justice to their dinner later on.

“Your trip to Surrey was uneventful, Captain?” she asked politely.

“Quite. I stopped to see my sister yesterday and stayed the night.”

“And she is improving?”

“That is my fondest wish, though it’s too soon to tell. I found her in good spirits, at any rate, entertaining the vicar. I begin to think the man does not simply visit each Sunday out of concern for her immortal soul.”

Maris smiled a little at the captain’s grimace. “You suspect a romance then?”

“I do after yesterday. Perhaps I was just too blind to see it before.” Durant did not look especially pleased at the prospect of having a man of the cloth as a brother-in-law. Little wonder, after his most recent activities and what he was about to embark upon.

“I wish your sister every happiness. I’m sure she deserves it.” Maris examined the bottom of her cup, wishing she could interpret the dregs as some gypsies did. What did her future hold, and how quickly could she get through this awkward present?

Well, there was always the weather, the last refuge of conversational inanity. “Today was ideal for traveling on horseback. December travel can be so chancy.” Maris wished Henry would say something, anything.

His black gaze flicked over his tea cup from her to the captain, but he was maddeningly quiet.

“It was very pleasant. The countryside hereabouts is delightful.” Durant turned to Kelby. “Do you ride, my lord?”

Henry set his cup down. “On occasion. Not enough to suit me, but my wife worries. I admit my stamina is not what it once was. Maris is quite a good horsewoman. I taught her myself when she was just a little bit of a thing. Taught her and Jane, though Maris took to the saddle far better than my daughter. Perhaps you both should spend some time together exploring the area before the snow flies.”

By God, Henry is playing matchmaker. Maris couldn’t bear it. “We won’t have time for that, Henry. What about the inventory?” She charged the word with the meaning they had agreed upon, but Henry deliberately ignored it.

“I’ve waited a lifetime to see what’s up there. A few hours in Captain Durant’s company in the fresh air won’t hurt you, my dear. Winter will come, and then you’ll be shut up indoors. You permit yourself so few amusements.”

“I am perfectly amused by helping you, Henry.”

“And what sort of life is that for a young woman, holed up within these four walls, day in, day out?”

“I’m hardly a young woman anymore,” Maris muttered.

“You’re not yet in your dotage. And a very handsome woman, don’t you think, Captain Durant?”

“Henry!” His name came out as a wild plea. For something. A stop to the discussion, for sure. Maris’s cheeks were so hot they matched her dress. It was a mistake to wear it. To show off. Everything was a horrible, horrible mistake.

“You are a fortunate man, Lord Kelby,” Durant said, not falling into Henry’s trap. No matter what he said, he couldn’t win that disastrous game.

“Maris, why don’t you show the captain the attics after tea? You may as well get started today while there is still light.”

“T-today?” Maris had not expected to begin today. Tomorrow perhaps. Or next week.

Or never.

“Just show the captain around a little. You need do no more than that today, Maris,” Henry said, his tone gentle.

“I . . . I . . . Oh blast it, Henry! This is . . . this is all so awful!”

Henry’s dark eyes held steady and clear. “I know, love. But it’s the only way. We agreed.”

Indeed, she had, desperate to ease his agitation over David. But now that she was minutes away from being shoved at Captain Durant, she found she could not screw up her courage. Her heart was inextricably bound to her husband, whom she’d loved ever since she was a little girl.

She didn’t want flattery and flummery. She’d had that from David in the short weeks she’d lost her head and embarked on the affair with him. How could she ever manage to become intimate with this stranger, no matter how charming and handsome he was?

“I hear some ladies are instructed to think of England,” Captain Durant said in a quiet voice. “In your case, think of the Kelby Collection. Kelby Hall. Generations of mad old earls—present company excepted, of course—bringing home the loot for future generations to marvel over. Let’s go up and see what’s in those boxes, Lady Kelby. You may be pleasantly surprised.” He fished a handkerchief out of his pocket. “Don’t cry, please. I cannot guard myself against a woman’s tears.”

Maris sniffed and wiped her cheeks. “I-I’m sorry I’m such a coward,” she said to her husband. To them both, really.

“Nonsense, my dear. You are the bravest woman and best wife in England. I quite like the captain’s advice. We will not speak of this arrangement any further. I’m satisfied I picked the right man for the job, Maris, and you needn’t tell me the details of what transpires between you. In fact, I forbid you to. I find I’m much more possessive than I expected to be, ridiculous as that may be when I’m the architect of this plan. I do wish to be informed, however, if you come across some artifact you think might be important.”