Captain Durant's Countess(43)

Why was she being critical? She and Reyn had had no difficulty conversing. True, he’d been self-deprecating about his education, but he’d been charming, was thoughtful and sympathetic. He’d really been so kind when she’d been nothing but a mass of raw nerves.

He was looking at her kindly, one of his dark eyebrows raised.

What had she missed in the conversation? “I’m sorry. I must have been woolgathering. You were saying?”

“My sister asked if she could get you anything from the village shops. She and Mrs. Beecham are going tomorrow. I believe it’s all a hum so she can run into Mr. Swift before Sunday.”

“Mr. Swift the vicar? He came to see me not long ago.”

“Ginny plans on roping the man into marriage. I have not yet given my consent, however,” Reyn teased.

“But you will if you know what’s good for you,” Ginny teased back. “I hope you do not find us very improper, Lady Kelby. Now that my brother is back on British soil I must make up for all the years I couldn’t torment him. That’s what little sisters are supposed to do.”

Maris smiled. “Is that so? I’m afraid I had no brothers or sisters, so I imagine I missed a great deal. Thank you for your offer, Miss Durant—that is, Ginny—but I cannot think of anything you could fetch me.” What she really needed could not be found in the confines of Shere. “Have you set a date for your wedding?”

“The sooner the better. I cannot wait to wash my hands of this little baggage. Let poor Swift deal with her,” Reyn said, reaching for a raspberry jam-filled tart.

“You know you’ll miss me.”

“As one misses an extracted tooth, not that I would know. I still have all mine, thank Mr. Swift’s Lord.”

“If you keep eating jam tarts you won’t. Not to mention you’ll get fat.” Ginny colored, realizing that perhaps she should not be so free with her speech in the presence of a countess. But Maris was quite enjoying picturing Reyn with a pot belly and a missing tooth or two. He wouldn’t be such a perfect specimen then and would look more mortal and less like a Greek god.

“Enough, brat,” Reyn chided. “Lady Kelby must be bored to death with our bickering. We shall take our leave and promise to do better next time.”

Next time? “What cheek! Are you inviting yourself back, Captain Durant?” Maris asked, getting into the spirit of things.

“Not at all. We are hoping you will grace us with your presence at supper one evening soon. An early night. We are complete country mice, now. I can drive the gig over myself and return you safe and sound. I should like you to see Merrywood. It’s nothing in comparison to Kelby Hall, of course, or Hazel Grange. But Gin has worked wonders. For all my sister’s faults, she is an excellent housekeeper.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted, brother dear. Of course, we’d love to have you, Lady Kelby. Just a quiet evening, no fuss. I know with your recent bereavement you’re loath to be in company.”

Maris felt a prickle of unease. But it was impossible to withstand the charm of both Durants, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

If she accepted, would Reyn think she’d accept everything else?

She couldn’t marry him. It was an absurd notion. She could not embark on an affair with him, either. No man would think she was alluring with her suddenly pendulous breasts and swollen belly. No wonder husbands, the devils, sought amusement elsewhere while their wives stayed home knitting baby caps. It was entirely the husbands’ fault their poor wives were as blown up and gassy as a Vauxhall balloon. Damn men anyhow.

Reyn interrupted her mental diatribe. “So you’ll come, Lady Kelby?”

“I-I shall be delighted.” How easily the lie slipped through her lips. Though she was interested in seeing Reyn’s property. She had a keen interest in horses now that she didn’t have to worry over Henry. Soon, however, she’d just have to talk to Pearl rather than ride her. Though she put the animal through the mildest paces, Stephen was beginning to fret that she would get hurt on their daily outings. He was becoming worse than Betsy, if that was possible. Likely he was embarrassed, too, to be touching her in her present state. Mr. Prall’s two bachelor sons seemed shy of the fair sex. “I would love to come a little early to see your horses.”

Reyn brightened, making her fear she was only adding to his wishful thinking. “I’d love to show you my girls. My young gentleman, too. Brutus is a new acquisition. He’s very full of himself at the moment, showing off for his harem.”

Like you, Maris thought. A splendid, viral animal, young and sleek. She felt the blush rise to her cheeks, and fought against the confusion she always felt in Reyn’s presence. At least she wasn’t stammering again.

She had fallen in lust, she who should know better. Lust didn’t last. Would friendship, the kind she had with Henry, ever be possible with a man like Reynold Durant? She pictured him over future tea trays, his dark hair silvering, the smile lines on his face deepening, then shook the homey aspect from her head. She was in no position to anticipate a future with anyone but her coming child.

“It’s settled then. Shall we say next Tuesday? I’ll come for you at five o’clock. There will be plenty of daylight for you to visit the stables.”

Maris meant to object. She had a perfectly good carriage, and Stephen or his brother Samuel could drive her to Merrywood. But if Reyn came to fetch her, she’d have some time alone with him, only minutes really as their properties were so close. She didn’t want to deny herself the bliss of sitting close, inhaling sandalwood and leather. She might, if she was very foolish, allow him that kiss he spoke of the other day, One kiss only. Just a taste, like an amuse-bouche to keep her lust at bay.

She was a wicked woman—a widow, pregnant and ungainly—desirous of something she could not have. Could never have. For one instant she cursed Henry for placing her in this untenable position. He must have known how it would be for her, awakened and alone, and still his plan to thwart David Kelby trumped all. They knew Henry would not live forever, but Maris had never fully understood what it would be like. She faced a lifetime of self-sacrifice to the Kelby name and collection if she bore a son. What had seemed natural, given her esteem for Henry, was suddenly a heavy burden, robbing her of whatever pleasure she might have discovered on her own as an unencumbered woman.

Resentment against Henry and her own naiveté would not help her get through the next few months, however. She must be as mindful of her humors as to what she ate and how she exercised. The poor baby had endured enough grief in its burgeoning life, but Maris’s tears were firmly behind her. They had to be.

“Yes, Captain Durant. I shall be ready.” She lowered her eyes so that she would not see the blaze of joy in his.





Chapter 25


Tuesday had inched along all too slowly. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have a thousand things with which to occupy himself. Reyn was nothing if not busy, nearly overwhelmed with calculations on each of the girls. He was keeping notes and an estral calendar for all of them, having sense enough to know he did not want to be up to his elbows delivering their foals all on the same night. Brutus was anxious to begin his work, but would have to be satisfied with a few mares at a time rather than the whole lot at once.

Some of his horses had already been bred before he purchased Merrywood, and Reyn was anxiously anticipating the new arrivals. He’d even forced himself to sit and get through most of a monograph on the delivery of foals, laboring over each sentence.

He would not see any profit for well over a year, but had enough emerald money left over to keep himself in bread and cheese and his horses in hay if he was frugal. With Ginny married, there would be fewer expenditures on Merrywood, too. He could live with the tilting floors and tattered curtains.

He wouldn’t let himself think of Maris moving in.

If she agreed to marry him eventually, they could make their home at Hazel Grange, anyway. He couldn’t subject his countess to less comfort than she was used to. The Grange was a very handsome house, beautifully appointed, a fine place to raise a family. The combined acreage of the two properties would be enough to support dozens of horses . . . and children, too.

Bah. What was he doing, dreaming? She couldn’t let an Earl of Kelby grow up so far from his birthright, even if Kelby Hall was just some twenty miles away. And he was not fit to be any sort of “stepfather” for such an exalted young personage.

Reyn gripped the reins in frustration, ruing the day he’d ever seen that advertisement in The London List. He was tied up in knots, longing for what he could not have. Timing was everything, and he and Maris were its victims. If they had met a mere few months later, once she was safely widowed and settling into Hazel Grange . . . but then he certainly would not be Merrywood’s owner. He’d be in London, wasting his life away, doing one damn stupid thing after the next and wondering where his next meal was coming from. Staying up all night at the tables, or bedding some other man’s willing wife. He never would have crossed paths with the virtuous Countess of Kelby.