Captain Durant's Countess(5)

Reyn didn’t have a brain. Not a useful one, anyway. He held Lady Kelby until she stilled in his arms, then lifted her chin. Her dark eyelashes were wet and spiky, but the little lakes that had pooled in each brown eye had dried. She stared at him so hard he thought he might forget what he wanted to do.

“Forgive me,” he said, and kissed her.

There was no kick, no struggle. Her lips opened in surprise and he swept in. She tasted of tears and tea. And innocence. She was inexpert at kissing him back, and that only made him more regretful that he’d started the whole thing.

What on earth was wrong with him? Lady Kelby was not his type, pale and gray and brown as she was.

She was married and loved her elderly husband. Reyn didn’t dally with married women unless they were free of such nonsense. Patsy and the others looked for him to replace the boredom of their arranged marriages with a bit of wicked spice. He’d been happy to oblige, even if he’d had to use a cane or a crop or wield his cock as a welcome weapon. He didn’t seduce innocents.

Lady Kelby’s reluctant tongue touched his, sending an electric jolt to his groin.

He frowned. He didn’t even know her first name. But there were so many things he didn’t know, and he’d managed to get along in life perfectly well. Well enough, anyway.

His mind might be a perfect blank at the moment, but his body was fully engaged with the woman in his arms, whose kidskin-gloved hands trembled against his throat. In fact, every bit of her shook as if she were immersed in a Canadian snowbank, which set off an avalanche of response within him. Her mouth was soft and yielding, allowing his very thorough exploration.

Reyn held her closer, his fingers busy with the line of fabric-covered buttons at her back, her bountiful soft breasts snug against his shirt. He brushed up past boned linen to the scoop of warm skin above her chemise, hoping the lush kiss might distract her into wantonness.

The touch of his fingers to her flesh alerted her to his intention, causing her tongue to stop mid-tangle. Reyn opened his eyes to see hers, dark as coffee. They blinked, and he felt her pull away.

He was still mostly a gentleman, so he released her, stepping back and banging his bad knee against the chair.

“W-what are you doing, Captain Durant?” She wiped the wet from her swollen lips.

He shrugged. “I’m sorry for that, too, if you didn’t like it.”

She said nothing.

He was not so full of himself to believe his kisses could leave someone speechless, but it had been a damned good kiss once the woman relaxed into it. He wondered if she still kissed her husband. . . or anyone else. Somehow he doubted it.

“Did it . . . does it mean you’ve changed your mind about coming to Kelby Hall?”

He should tell her no. What kind of man would he be to father a child and then walk away? The whole idea was insupportable. Reyn had no particular yearning for marriage and fatherhood, but that didn’t mean he was completely without honor, no matter what Lady Kelby said. What was the lesser of two evils—taking unearned money or abandoning a child? He opened his mouth and then shut it.

Lady Kelby stood proud, her chin raised despite the wobble of her bonnet. She would lose it soon, and good riddance. But her eyes betrayed her. They were damp again with desperation. Whether she was desperate for him to say yes or no, he wasn’t quite sure.

Reyn was certain she had not been in favor of her husband’s scheme, no matter how devilish David Kelby was. Saving books and silly statues was not enough for her to commit adultery with a complete stranger. Lady Kelby did not seem to be the sort to break any of the commandments.

“Let me do up your buttons.”

“You have not answered me.” She turned her back in acquiescence.

“I haven’t.” Reyn was never much of a thinker, but he felt obligated to make some sense of his scattered thoughts. He concentrated on each gray button, covering up inches of snow-white skin and linen. Would he want to release her from the confines of an equally ugly dress in the future? He just didn’t know. He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her gently.

“Give me a day to think this over again. Where are you staying?”

“Mivart’s Hotel on Brook Street.”

“I assume your husband is not with you.”

She shook her head and the hideous hat collapsed to her shoulder. “He does not know I’m here.”

“Here in London? Or here?”

Lady Kelby struggled to untie the double knot on her gray organdy ribbon. Her hands still shook, and Reyn felt it necessary to assist her. He was good with his hands, liked to keep them busy, even if it meant he played lady’s maid.

She stood solemnly still as he made quick work of the difficulty and drew the hat away. “He knows I am in London. I told him I had some shopping to do.”

Good. She needed new clothes. Lady Kelby looked like she was in mourning already.

“So he doesn’t know you came to find me?”

“He did not send me. I’m not sure he would approve.”

“I should say not. It’s very shocking that you are here,” Reyn replied. “Have you a chaperone lurking somewhere downstairs?”

“I sent my maid back to the hotel once I found out where you were. Bad enough one of us had to enter this place,” Maris said tartly, taking back her hat from him and pinning it back on with a wickedly sharp hatpin.

Reyn picked up his yellow silk waistcoat. He was in need of a shopping trip himself. Now that he was no longer constrained by a uniform, his taste in civilian clothing had yet to be discovered. He feared the waistcoat was undoubtedly a mistake. “You were foolish to come, and I don’t believe you are usually a foolish woman.”

“I wrote,” she reminded him. “That seemed to do no good.”

He was not about to explain the trouble he had reading her handwriting. It was probably perfectly formed, but it had given him a headache. He had enough difficulty with a printed page without trying to decipher Lady Kelby’s pretty loops and curlicues.

He could read. Barely, and certainly not for pleasure. The number of books in the Earl of Kelby’s library had failed to impress him.

“Let me escort you back to Mivart’s.”

“Won’t Patsy miss you?”

Surely Lady Kelby was not jealous. “I’m sure she’s found an adequate substitute,” he said, squeezing himself into his coat. He saw her hesitate, then drop her veil.

“All right. The quicker I can get out of here, the better.”

He offered an arm and they left the room. “How is it you got past Mick Fisher?”

“I lied, sir. Just as you have.”

“Ouch. I don’t suppose you even need a knife to cut your dinner when your sharp tongue will do. I also take it lying does not come naturally to you?”

In the long hallway, she took a misstep, causing them to careen toward a marble-top table.

“Easy, Lady Kelby. One foot in front of the other. Don’t worry if anyone sees us. The Monarchs are a discreet bunch, believe it or not.”

“D-do you require all those peculiar implements on the wall to . . .” Her words faded.

Reyn wished he could see her face clearly. She must think the absolute worst of him. He laughed. “To perform? You need have no fear, Lady Kelby. I bought a subscription to the club as a lark. A dare.” He had beyond bored, and it had seemed a good idea at the time. He was as normal as the next man, more or less, with some significant exceptions.

“Shouldn’t the money you spent have gone to your sister?”

Yes, he should have settled the extra sum on Ginny, but she had been safely set up in the country before he won his little windfall. Lord Kelby’s gold had seen to that. Reyn was spared from answering by the sight of a contrite Mick Fisher at the bottom of the stairs.

The butler began his effusive apologies from the hallway below as Reyn steered Lady Kelby down the marble steps. “Beggin’ your pardon, Captain. I told the mort not to go up to bother you. She promised me she’d stay put.” Fisher gave Maris a pugnacious glare.

“No bother at all, Mick. Really, it was quite delightful to have her join me.”

Lady Kelby stiffened under his hand, but did not contradict him.

“Mrs. Rumford weren’t none too pleased to be interrupted, Captain, I can tell you that. You’ll have some fences to mend there. Lady Kelby, I believe Mrs. R. said her name is?”

Damn the man, and damn Patsy. The countess’s reputation would suffer if it was discovered she’d been entertained at the Reining Monarchs Society even for so short a time as a brief conversation.

And especially after that kiss.

“I think you misheard, Mick.” Reyn stuck his hand in his pocket and brought out the coins Lady Kelby had refused, dropping them into the butler’s open palm and praying he kept quiet. The man must be getting quite rich working there, and it was easier than getting pummeled nightly in a boxing ring. “Is Mrs. Rumford still about?”