Captain Durant's Countess(21)

A silence hung between them before she said, “I should get back.”

“Are you in the habit of walking in the garden at night?”

Lady Kelby—Maris—sighed. “If I tell you I am, will you seek me out and rob me of my peace?”

“I don’t want to do anything to upset you further,” Reyn said quietly.

“I am upset! I’ve never been in such a state! I can’t think. I can’t eat. I can’t rest.”

Her words were as quiet as his, but he heard the tremor in her voice. Reyn placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You should talk to your husband. He cares for you. If this is all too much for you, I’m sure he’d understand. I know I do.”

“I must do it,” Maris whispered. “I promised him. I owe him everything, you know.”

“You don’t owe him—or anyone—your soul, Maris. Walk away from it. Walk away from me.”

She took a ragged breath. “I-I cannot.”

“Well, then. Think of all this as bad medicine you must swallow to be well again.”

She shook his hand away and leaned against the marble obelisk. “How can you j-joke?”

“It’s what I do, I’m afraid. It’s meant to boost your morale. Is it working?”

There was no hint of a smile on her moonlit face, but at least she wasn’t in tears again. “No, not really.”

“I’ll do better tomorrow. I’ll leave you to your second thoughts. Good night, Lady Kelby.”

“Wait! Don’t go.”

Reyn paused. He really ought to go to the earl straightaway and tell him he was leaving in the morning. The man was still up. The lights from the library windows cast pale rectangles on the grass beyond the garden hedges. Reyn was beginning to feel like a fish that was reeled in, only to discover the line had gone slack.

“I think you were right.”

He quirked an eyebrow, a dependably devilish expression, which was wasted in the dark. “About what?”

“We . . . we should be friends. It will make it easier.”

“All right.” He held his hand out. “Let’s shake on it.”

Her hand was ice cold. Reyn brought it to his lips and blew a warm breath across her knuckles. She trembled and took a step forward.

Another kiss was a much nicer way to cement their new friendship. He covered her lips and eased into a tender tangle. No wildness, no wanton pressure, just a soft brush of skin and tongue which brought its own innocent pleasure. He could get used to kissing Maris Kelby. She’d improved by miles since their first encounter at the Reining Monarchs Society a few short days ago. Who knew how expert she’d be once they were done with each other?

The obelisk in the center of the hedges shielded them from prying eyes, so he was in no rush to end their friendly kiss. Neither, it seemed, was Maris. She had not pulled away from his embrace in with any sort of revulsion. If anything, he thought she was remarkably relaxed, her fingertips delicate upon on his jaw, her breathing just shy of steady. Reyn’s groin tightened in response to the very unexpected turn of events.

And then he felt a little push. With the greatest reluctance, he withdrew from the kiss and stared down into her pale face.

Her eyes were huge and fathoms dark, her lips still parted. She licked them, causing Reyn to clamp his own mouth shut.

Her words were even more unexpected than her kiss. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. I’ll never sleep anyway, worrying over it. Will it be all right if I come to you tonight?”

Reyn loosened his tongue from its knot. “Is that wise, Lady Kelby?”

“None of this is wise. I want to get it over with. The beginning of it, at least. Once I know what to expect, I’ll be more—” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’ll feel. I hope to be less afraid, I suppose.”

“You have nothing to fear. I promise.” Reyn hoped he was telling the truth.





Chapter 10


Take my medicine. Get on with it. Get it over with.

The more time she had to think about it, the more agonized she was. Yes, it was much better to go to the captain’s rooms tonight and do what they were supposed to do.

Maris was sure Reynold Durant would be a better lover than David. Durant’s kisses had been masterful. No wonder woman waited to be whipped by him. Maris would almost consider the crop herself.

Good Lord. What was happening to her mind? Since London, she’d been unable to be of any use to Henry. Her agitation grew daily, her concentration shot to pieces. It was a good thing her husband was in the final stages of compiling his book, for she had been no help at all since she returned from town with her silly dresses.

She would wear none of them tonight. Maris had dismissed Betsy once the girl had brushed through her knotted wavy hair and braided it. She had sponged herself clean with a second bath and scented her body with rosewater. Dressed in a sensible white lawn nightgown, she covered it with a dark blue brocade robe. Madame Bernard had said navy could suit her, did she not? Maris had chosen it not for the color, but to traverse the dark hallways without attracting notice.

Captain Durant was on the floor above her, just a few steps up the narrow staircase at the end of the house. She had left the countess’s suite at the opposite end of the corridor five years ago, when the fiction was that Henry’s nocturnal restlessness made it impossible for her to sleep next door.

To some degree, it had been true. Henry wandered back and forth from his library to his bedroom all night long, and being a man, was never quiet about it. His old valet Chambers had left Henry’s service because of it. The man had been so bleary-eyed he was walking into walls toward the end. Now Henry made do with a young ex-soldier who was grateful to have a job. Sullivan claimed he took naps when the earl was busy at his desk for hours. Clever lad to make the best of Henry’s erratic schedule.

Maris wouldn’t take a candle; she knew every nook and cranny of Kelby Hall. It was only a few doors down to the stairwell, only a few steps up to the deserted wing where she had placed Captain Durant. But she wouldn’t make a habit of the nighttime excursion. Her luck would only hold so far. The house was crawling with servants, though most of them should be asleep at that hour.

In the garden, her idea had seemed a good one, but as she hurried up the stairs, she wondered what Reynold Durant really thought. Of course he had not refused her, just cupped her cheek and stared into her face until she felt he could see every thought in her head. He nodded once, then absurdly kissed her forehead as if she were a child.

As Henry used to do. But the captain’s kiss did not bring her the same comfort.

Maris hesitated a moment at the door, but before she had a chance to knock he opened it and pulled her into his well-lit sitting room. She’d been hoping for dark. Pitch-black, actually.

Durant locked the door behind her. He was still dressed, the fire going strong. He’d procured a bottle of wine, which sat next to one stemmed glass on a piecrust table.

“I didn’t dare ask for another glass. We’ll have to share,” he said, smiling.

“I don’t need any wine, thank you.” Her throat was so dry her words came out as a croak.

“You’re nervous. I confess I am too, a little.”

“You? I don’t believe it.” She’d seen what he looked like naked and randy . . . and what he was capable of.

But perhaps she didn’t appeal to him.

He walked to the table and filled the wineglass almost to the brim, then took the first sip. “Believe it, Lady Kelby. See? I even have trouble calling you by your Christian name. You quite awe me.”

Maris took the glass from him, but set it back down. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re a countess. I’m no one in particular.”

“My father was the earl’s secretary. My mother was a vicar’s daughter. I’m no one in particular either.” She took a deep breath. “I did not come here to discuss genealogy, Captain Durant. I didn’t come here to discuss anything.”

He took another swallow of wine. “Shall we take a vow of silence then?”

“I think that’s an excellent idea.” It would be far less embarrassing than making idle conversation through this thing.

“Very well. But you will tell me if you do not like something, won’t you? Don’t just lie there and endure.”

Maris shrugged. That was precisely her plan.

She followed him across the carpet to his bedroom door. The fire was roaring in there as well, the bedcovers turned down, though just a single candle burned. Maris blew it out without thinking. She much preferred the gray gloom of this room to the sitting room, though she was not anxious to unbelt her robe yet.

Reynold Durant did that for her. He slid the garment from her shoulders, his thumbs stroking her arms before he tossed it on a chair.

“Get into bed, my dear. I’ll get ready in the dressing room.”