Captain Durant's Countess(34)

Reyn knew who was before him. He slid the knife up his sleeve, walked forward, and resumed whistling.

David Kelby stood in the middle of the moon-drenched road. “Why, Mr. Kelby! I did not expect to see you again so soon. A lovely night, is it not?” Reyn deliberately slurred his words.

“You are drunk! I’m sure my uncle would not be best pleased.”

“Oh, don’t tell on me, I beg you. I’m afraid I have no head for spirits. But I was so b-bloody bored up at the big house. Can’t do a proper job when it’s dark and there isn’t a soul my equal to talk to me there.” That was certainly true.

It was preferable that Kelby think he was a pompous idiot rather than someone in thrall to the countess.

“What brings you out this evening?” Reyn asked.

“A walk,” Kelby said. “As you said, it’s a lovely night.”

Had he been meeting with his spy? Reyn was sorry he did not choose to wander about the garden. He might have bumped into them whispering and plotting, but knew he wouldn’t find out much by quizzing Kelby on the lane.

Squinting, Reyn noticed that Kelby’s cravat was askew, which made him think the spy they were looking for was not a John, but a Mary. Of course.

Kelby was a ladies’ man. If he’d managed to seduce sensible, virtuous Maris, he was likely to sweep some poor impressionable maid right off her feet.

Reyn tried to remember the girls that had brought him his meals and swept his hearth. They’d made no particular impression on him, but he’d open his eyes and work some of his own charm if he had any left to spare.





The next morning, Reyn was prepared to do his flirtatious best with a housemaid or two, but the breakfast tray did not come at the hour he’d arranged for it, nor was there a response when he tugged his bellpull after waiting rather patiently. Perhaps the bell system was broken, or they’d forgotten about the mad man in the attic.

He’d already washed and shaved with the tepid water on his dressing stand and was fully dressed. Would he be shot if he sought the breakfast room, breaking the earl’s fraternization rule?

Reyn decided he didn’t care. He needed food in his stomach after all the ale he’d consumed with Bob. It hadn’t been hard to play the drunk with Kelby. He didn’t have a head for spirits. He’d learned nothing of significance from his sacrifice, but at least he hadn’t been in his room mooning over Maris.

The house seemed unusually quiet. He noticed at once the absence of the human green wall. The footmen were not in place along the main floor corridor. He’d planned on asking for directions, but like a hound on the hunt, he thought his long nose would track the bacon and toasted bread.

He was wrong. Reyn stood in the cavernous entry hall, uncertain which way to turn.

He wished he’d pocketed that great houses of England guide. He thought there’d been a floor plan, not that he could read the cribbed print on the pages devoted to Kelby Hall. He only knew a few places in the Hall—the earl’s library, which he wouldn’t dare to enter, Maris’s sitting room, his own bedroom, and the attics.

It wasn’t the sort of day for walking outside. The bright blue sky of the past few days had faded to gray. A light rain spattered the sidelights surrounding the heavy oak front door. Strange that there wasn’t a footman on hand to open it even if he didn’t want to go out in the gloom. They were like jack-in-the-boxes, always popping up when you least expected them, only to perform a service you didn’t even know you needed.

Maybe they were all on a workers’ uprising, Reyn thought with a grin. Inspired by the French Revolution, rioting against injustice on Kelby’s sole street—although he hoped the earl and countess kept their heads.

Reyn felt the cold of the hall seep into his bones. It would be difficult to work upstairs. They’d have to light more candles, bring up more lamps, keep the fireplace tended. It would be cozy to lie with Maris on the chaise, listening to the rain on the roof. Perhaps they’d forgo the boxes altogether.

He decided to head left, poking his head into the open doors along the way. There was no sign of footmen or food. Wondering if he had an overlooked biscuit in his saddlebag, he was just about to go up one of the stairways when he met Amesbury coming down.

“Oh! I’ve just been up to your rooms,” the old butler said a bit breathlessly. “Lady Kelby was most particular in wishing to speak to you. Please follow me.”

“Is everything all right?”

“No, it is not, sir. The Earl of Kelby is dead.”





Chapter 18


Maris was numb. She knew she was supposed to feel something, should have expected how to feel when this day came as she knew it would. She had vowed years ago not to cry, for once. Henry would not have liked it. But she felt as if she was wrapped in cotton wool, almost deaf to Betsy and the other servants who had been filing into her room since she discovered Henry’s body in the library when she went in to wish him a good morning.

He had been there all night, sprawled facedown on the carpet. He had died alone and in distress. The shame of it was dreadful.

The servants knew better than to bother him, no matter how late the candles burned. No doubt they thought he was working through the night as he sometimes did, and were waiting to be summoned. But Maris herself should have insisted he get himself to bed, even if he wouldn’t share hers.

What had she been doing instead of seeing to Henry? Riding Captain Durant, touching herself as he’d touched her, aching for the next day and what would happen between them in the attic. Except it wouldn’t happen . . . ever again.

She had to send him away. Hang the inventory. It didn’t matter any longer. David could make his own foray into the boxes. She’d told the servants to remove all traces of the office work space. Remove the telltale chaise, too. David would catch one glimpse of it and her dangerous game would be over. He was probably on his way now, woken at the Kelby Arms by the servants’ gossip that would fly to the village as fleet as a bird.

She had sent Amesbury to fetch Reyn and dismissed everyone who had been hovering around her. In a short while, Henry’s solicitor Mr. Woodley would be there, and she could arrange for Reyn’s payment to be sent to him in London.

She reached into the pocket of her black gown. The emerald was cold and hard, much as she needed to be.

Amesbury knocked and entered. “Captain Durant, my lady.”

Reyn trailed after him, looking pale. “You have my sincerest condolences, Lady Kelby.”

Reyn is staying a good distance away, thank heaven. “Thank you, Captain. Amesbury, that will be all. Please let me know when Mr. Woodley arrives. Mr. Kelby, too.” Maris shivered. She would have to call David “my lord” and curtsey when he came to crow at his good fortune.

“Certainly, my lady.” Amesbury left, closing the door behind him. Did he suspect anything? If he did, she sought to quash any talk. Captain Durant was to be packed up and on his way within minutes of their interview.

Reyn was across the room in a flash. “Oh, God, Maris. I’m so sorry.”

She allowed him to hold her for a few precious seconds, then stepped out of his embrace. “You have to leave immediately.”

A dark eyebrow was raised and she wanted to smooth it down. “Why? I can help you.”

“I don’t require your help. If you were to stay, how could it be explained? You are not a relative. You . . . you are supposed to be nothing to me. The job is over. David won’t care what’s upstairs. He can’t sell anything, so why bother going through it?”

“What if David won’t inherit?”

Maris flushed. “I’ll know soon enough. I hardly think after only two days that we have . . .” She couldn’t say it. Didn’t dare to hope it.

He pulled her to him, holding her hands so tightly it hurt. “You’ll tell me, won’t you?”

“What good will it do to know?” she cried, pulling away.

“You’ll tell me. Please.”

She really couldn’t bear this. Reyn Durant needed to go, and go immediately. She took the emerald from her pocket. “Mr. Woodley—Henry’s solicitor—will see that you get your pay no matter what happens. But I want you to have this.” Maris shoved the jewel into his hand.

Reyn looked down at it as if she’d given him a poisonous snake. “I’m to be bought off, just like this?”

“Henry hired you for your character. I know I don’t have to bribe you. I want you to have it. To take care of your sister. To buy yourself a future.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Don’t be so proud. Why shouldn’t you have it? You found it. Do you think David Kelby deserves it after all he’s done?”

Reyn rolled the stone in his hand. “Was your husband’s death natural? I ran into Kelby on the road from the village last night. He was coming from this direction.”