Captain Durant's Countess

chapter 24


She was well and truly ruined. The fragile peace she’d assembled from scraps of her old life and basted together had been torn to shreds. Maris knew she’d been distracting herself over the past months with Henry’s work and getting settled into two new houses, but it was time she faced the truth. She had feelings for Reynold Durant. Improper feelings. Most improper feelings.

And she didn’t know what to do about them.

Last week, he had asked her to marry him, the wretched man, right out of the blue. A widow was meant to remain widowed, at the very least for two years. As she was an earl’s relict, it would be expected she might even remain such for the rest of her life. She had an extremely generous widow’s jointure, a lovely house, and the prospect of moving back into Kelby Hall if she bore a son. She would not want for any material thing. Her life should be complete.

But there was Reyn over the tea tray, temptation itself. His overlong dark hair was brushed back, his rust-colored coat clinging to his broad shoulders, his buff breeches leaving nothing to her imagination. He and his sister made an attractive pair, and their easy sibling banter made her a little envious. She had grown up with Jane, but the two of them had been naturally reticent, even with each other. Maris had striven to never put a foot wrong, aware she was privileged to be raised in an earl’s household. Jane had been painfully shy, more or less ignored by everyone but their governess Miss Holley. It had been much too easy for David Kelby to take advantage of Jane’s sweet nature.

The helpful Mrs. Beecham had not come with the Durants. Maris had no intention of discussing the impending birth with a gentleman present, particularly this gentleman. She was absolutely mortified she had discussed her menses twice with Reyn, though she supposed everything about her relationship with him resulted in mortification of the highest order. She wasn’t much of a lady, then, even after a lifetime of toeing the line.

To his credit, Reyn treated her like one, like a lady who was more or less a stranger to him. He’d made one reference to meeting her by chance in the garden at Kelby Hall, but said nothing of their working together in the attics.

Maris had been unable to forget those days, and she had tried, feeling so disloyal to Henry every time Reyn, naked and hungry for her, flashed into her mind. She had admired her husband, put him on a pedestal from the time she was a little girl.

Henry could not have been more different from Reyn. Where Henry was all intellect, Reyn was mostly physical. He had been so full of pent-up energy she could feel waves of it across the room as she’d catalogued items from the boxes, energy that was quickly put to use when he took her to bed. His wife would have no complaint in that area, but what would they say to each other once desire was spent?

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.