Captain Durant's Countess(4)

He wasn’t sure why. Despite her finding him in such a compromising position, he did not naturally need to subdue a woman. The Reining Monarchs Society was simply one of those ports in a storm for him, an amusement, nothing more. He had no intention of going through with the unamusing proposition and attempt to impregnate a woman who obviously held him in contempt. A plain, shriveled-up bluestocking to boot.

No, that was wrong. Perhaps she wasn’t so plain now that her color was high and her brown eyes sparked in anger. Up close, he saw her eyelashes were long and batting like butterflies trapped against glass. Beneath her ugly gray dress she was lushly curved, and if she hadn’t partially unmanned him, he might have appreciated her figure more.

She was handsome enough, but totally unsuited for what her husband had in mind. If she couldn’t bear his kiss, how could she endure the rest?

Reyn had been damn near his wit’s end when he responded to the oddly-worded advertisement in The London List. The owner of the newspaper, Mr. Ramsey, had been evasive, but had vetted him thoroughly, asking him so many questions Reyn felt like he was sitting for all those exams he’d so spectacularly failed at school. That strange fellow Ramsey knew more about him than his own mother had. Whatever Reyn had said had pleased him, and the newspaperman had arranged for him to meet with the old earl two months ago. Reyn couldn’t believe his luck at the money that was dangled before him just to go to Kelby Hall.

The travel expenses—and what was promised if he had a satisfactory interview—were much too generous. Reyn had known from the first that something was off, but his sister Virginia needed his help, and he needed money to help her. His efforts had come late, but at least her days were being spent in what little comfort he could provide. He’d hired a nurse and leased a cottage with clean air outside Richmond. He’d given her a dog, because Ginny had always wanted one from the time he could remember. Their parents had never set down roots anywhere long enough to acquire one. An animal was an expense, something Anthony and Corinne Durant could ill afford after their excesses at the tables.

Reyn was really no different. He’d lived everywhere and nowhere, deserting his responsibilities to his sister as he marched through Europe and Canada. But he still had some scruples. He’d never, ever been serious about following through with the Earl of Kelby once he learned what the old man wanted.

The worst that could be said about him was that he’d borrowed money under false pretenses. So what if he’d reneged. The earl could never prosecute him for its return. The scandal would kill the old fellow outright and turn society against his shivering countess.

Reyn would pay the earl back somehow. He’d had a run of good luck in the hells lately as if he was being rewarded for his bad behavior. His parents would have been envious if they still lived.

Something had happened to him since he’d sold out, something he didn’t care to examine too closely in the light of day. Whatever it was—boredom? despair?—had made him reckless. He’d always been a restless soul, unable to stick to anything but soldiering for very long. But the war was over, had been for ages. The dull routine of peace had brought him no comfort. In fact, it had driven him slightly mad. All he’d done the past year since he’d been posted to London was parade in uniform like a wind-up doll for the king’s pleasure. The army was no place for him, anymore.

Civilian life had not been much better. He’d even bought a quarter-year subscription to the Reining Monarchs Society to see what all the fuss was about. But he still didn’t know. When granted absolute power over another human being, he still felt powerless. He told himself that denying the earl’s dying request was actually a good thing. He was not the wastrel decent people thought he was. He’d once had character. Perhaps he’d regain it again.

“Get off me!”

Lady Kelby didn’t shout. No one would come to her aid, anyway. Shouting was de rigueur at the Reining Monarchs. That was part of the fun.

“I am not precisely on you, Lady Kelby. You’d know it if I was, and I wager you’d not object. Isn’t that why you are here?”

She was tall for a woman, but somehow ducked under the arm that pinned her to the wall. Her hat was tipped at a crazed angle which made her look much less starchy, but no less angry. Damn but he wished he had succeeded in kissing her. There didn’t seem to be much hope of that now.

“You are d-disgusting! I cannot for the life of me imagine why my husband thought you might be s-satisfactory.”

Reyn wasn’t quite sure either. He was nobody in particular, not titled, not educated, not accomplished. His father had been a cousin to a bankrupt marquess, and his mother was the youngest daughter of a disgraced viscountess who’d run off with her dresser. It was amazing to think his old granny had been a follower of Sappho, but he remembered her and her companion Grace as being very kind the few times he’d met them.

Scandal and sloth had been bred into Reyn from the earliest age, and he’d been thrown out of more schools than he could count. Both his parents had been good-looking, and he had no complaints when he caught his reflection in the mirror. Perhaps the earl had chosen him as he might choose a thoroughbred to cover a mare. Reyn was showy and spirited, and came from good bloodlines even if no one had won prize money in a race lately.

He picked up his neckcloth from the carpet and began to strangle himself with it. “I have no idea, Lady Kelby. Did you not discuss this whole affair with him?”

“I told you he hasn’t been well,” she snapped. “He’s so worried I cannot believe he is clear-headed, else he never would have selected you.”

“Consider me deselected. I shall return the advance at the earliest opportunity.”

“Why did you take the money if you did not plan to honor your word? Do you find me so unattractive?”

Reyn felt a stab of annoyance. He was not going to do the pretty when the woman had kneed him in the groin. “Don’t fish for compliments, Lady Kelby. You can hardly expect me to tell you I desire you when it’s clear you loathe me. I had need of the money. Still do. My sister is—well, she’s dying, just like your husband is—only she doesn’t live inside a thousand acre park with a thousand servants to tend her and a devoted spouse who will do anything, no matter how repulsive, to make her happy. You must love your husband very much to come here to find me.”

Lady Kelby flushed. “I-I do. He . . . he’s a wonderful man. Henry is very dear to me.”

“I’m sorry for you then. My sister is dear to me also, and I neglected her for years. I was quite desperate when I met with Mr. Ramsey. I really would have done most any job he offered to make my sister’s last months easier. But not this one.”

“N-no. I am sorry for you, too.”

Reyn smiled. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? I’m a thief, and you were ready to let me steal your virtue if there’s any left to steal.”

Oh, he’d gone too far with that. The lovely blush that had stained her cheeks retreated. He expected her to curse him, to strike him, or flounce out of the room in high dudgeon like Patsy did.

Instead, Maris’s lips trembled and her large brown eyes filled with tears. “How dare you,” she whispered. “You cannot know the agony—” Her sob choked her words away.

Tears were usual at the Reining Monarchs Society as well as shouts, but Reyn had never been able to harden his heart against them. He walked over to Maris, intending to hand her his handkerchief and straighten her hat, but somehow put his arms around her and got a nose full of gray organdy ribbon. His cravat would have to be retied, for Lady Kelby clung to it as if it were a lifeline.

“There now. I’m sorry,” he said, patting the buttons on the back of what surely was the most unbecoming dress he’d ever seen on a peeress before. Did not her husband still have his eyesight? Perhaps he didn’t, although the man had stared quite sharply at him the day they met.

Henry Kelby’s eyes were black as a crow’s, much like Reyn’s own. Reyn had seen a portrait in the library of the earl in elaborate court dress from the last century, his hair covered by a wig. Maybe when the Earl of Kelby looked at him, he saw a resemblance to his younger self. It was impossible to know.

“Please don’t cry.”

Lady Kelby gave a great shuddering hiccup and continued to dampen Reyn’s shirtfront. The woman had been pushed to the edge over the impossible situation.

Durant was ashamed he’d made it worse. “I didn’t mean it, Lady Kelby. I always say the first foolish thing that pops into my head. I need a keeper, I do. Or a muzzle.”

All his life, he had spoken too soon, acted too soon. The latter had been useful in battle, but it wasn’t always welcome in civilian life. Sometimes he felt his skin itch from the inside out. Heard bees in his head. Couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t read a book without falling asleep or flinging it against a wall.

He also couldn’t walk away from a dare or a challenge. If he had a brain in his head, he’d set the woman aside and stride out the door. Find Patsy and f*ck her if Blivens wasn’t already at the task.