Captain Durant's Countess

chapter 5


When the crested coach rolled up the long copper beech avenue, it was close to midnight. Maris had finally fallen asleep some miles back, but was gently shaken awake by Betsy.

“We’re home, my lady.”

Flambeaux were lit, and footmen scurried out into the dark, joining the outriders in divesting the carriage of its occupants and baggage. The December night air was chilly, and Maris wrapped the fur carriage robe closer before she abandoned it altogether. She must look a fright. She’d discarded her hat hours ago, and her gray traveling costume was wrinkled. Her new clothes were safely packed in the trunk in the boot, but she picked up the book she’d purchased for Henry. He would be up despite the hour. It seemed he slept less and less lately, but did not lose a fraction of his keen intelligence despite his fatigue.

Maris knew where to find him, but wasn’t sure she’d find the words to tell him what she had done. She waved away Betsy’s offer to freshen up and headed straight for the library. The room was bright as daylight with candelabra on all flat surfaces. Her husband’s face lit with a smile as she approached, and he pushed himself up from his chair.

Where he had once been tall—as tall as Captain Durant—he now stooped a bit. His black hair had turned silver before Maris married him, but he was still a handsome man. When she was a child, he’d treated her like an extra daughter, but she had worshipped him, making her own father a little jealous.

Apart from their difficulties in the bedroom, the marriage had been everything Maris had ever hoped for. They shared common interests, and he was the only man who did not make her nervous. The seventh earl of Kelby respected her mind and treated her as an equal. Henry knew her better than she knew herself, as he proved immediately.

“Maris, my dear, what have you been up to? You look guilty as sin. And don’t try to fob me off with a book, even if it’s one I’ve been longing to get my hands on.”

Maris put the book on the desk and sidled around it, enfolding herself in Henry’s open arms. She was safe there, had always been. She cupped his thin cheek and kissed it. While he had been unable to perform in the strictest sense, their marriage bed had not always been cold. Much to her embarrassment, Henry had tended to her in the earliest stages of the marriage, and she knew what it felt like to flame under a man’s touch.

David Kelby had ruined that comfort for her.

She searched Henry’s face, pleased to see his dark eyes bright and unclouded. “How are you feeling? Have you been eating?”

“Mrs. O’Neill has been even more terrifying than you are. I’ve behaved just as I should in your absence. I missed you.”

“And I you.”

He raised a white brow. “But?”

“Oh, Henry. I may have done a foolish thing.”

“Sit down, my love, and tell me all about it. Shall I ring for tea?”

She shook her head and left the warmth of his embrace with reluctance. Her gloved fingers picked nervously at her gray skirts. She couldn’t sit down and face Henry’s sympathetic gaze, didn’t deserve his affection. She’d betrayed him once to her regret, and was about to do so again. This time, at his bidding.

Maris was heartsick, but knew how much a child would mean to Henry to carry on Kelby Hall’s mission. David was no fit steward for the treasures within.

But would Captain Reynold Durant’s son have appreciation for its history?

“I-I went to London, as you know,” she began, once her husband was seated back in his chair.

He pushed aside the papers he’d been working on and folded his hands in expectation. “Yes. I hope you didn’t spare any expense on your purchases. You’ve worked too hard lately.”

Maris was certain Madame Bernard’s bill would be astronomical. “I did buy a few things. But that was not the true purpose of the visit.” She took a breath. “I found Captain Durant.”

The only sound in the room was the quiet rumble of the fire. The room was overwarm, but Henry said his old bones craved the heat of the Tuscan sun. He was staring at the leather blotter with particular intensity.

Maris stole a glance at him. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

He raised his black eyes to hers. “I asked you to leave it to me, Maris. This business is not fit for a lady. Perhaps there’s still time to find someone else.”

“Henry! You are forgetting I’m smack in the middle of ‘this business.’ ” She would leave aside his claim of sufficient time. Mr. Ramsey had not been especially encouraging about procuring another gentleman for this deviant purpose. “C-Captain Durant has agreed to come to Kelby Hall within a few days.”

“How did you ever persuade him? His last letter was most definitive. He did not want the job after all.”

“I didn’t seduce him, if that’s what you are implying,” Maris said, stung.

Henry chuckled. “Nay, you haven’t an ounce of seduction in you, my love. You’re a good girl, more’s the pity. If we had met when I was a young man, things would have been different. You’ve always been an apt pupil.” He sighed and picked up his spectacles. “So Durant changed his mind. He doesn’t want more money, does he?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“He said something about a sick sister.”

“Yes, so he told me. His concern for her is in his favor, I suppose.” It went some way to explain why he had ever agreed to this scandalous scheme to begin with.

“What did you think of him, Maris?”

She felt like she was treading into quicksand. She loved Henry, but there was no denying Captain Durant was an attractive man. Henry would know at once if she was lying. His illness and age had not robbed him of any of his acuity. She ceased her pacing and dropped into a chair. “He’s very handsome.”

“That should make it a little easier to bear, then. The intimacy,” Henry clarified, as if she needed explanation. “I fully appreciate the sacrifice you’ll be making for me, Maris. This goes well beyond humoring an old man. You’ve been a good wife to me, a great helpmeet. Some might say you’ve thrown your youth away on me, missed opportunities. Captain Durant will go a little ways to making it up to you.”

“I don’t need any making up! You’ve been everything that is kind and good. Even when you are consumed with your studies, I’ve been consumed right along with you!”

“My little bluestocking,” Henry chuckled. “There is more to life than books and bits of shattered pottery. Even I know that.” He placed the spectacles on his nose and shuffled the papers he’d been reading back into order. “You must be exhausted. Go on to bed. We’ll talk about this more in the morning.”

“W-Won’t you come to bed with me?” They no longer shared a room, but if this fiction of creating a child together was to be preserved, they needed to appear close again.

“I suppose you are right. It is very late, isn’t it? But you know how restless I am, Maris. You won’t get a wink of sleep.”

“I don’t care about sleep. I just want you to hold me, Henry. Like you used to.”

“It would be my privilege,” he said softly. “Go on upstairs. I’ll join you shortly.”

But when Maris woke at dawn, she was alone.





It took Reyn two days’ travel to join the Kelbys. As usual, he visited his sister on Sunday, but stayed the night to break up the journey and give old Phantom a rest. He’d purchased two sober, scholarly-looking waistcoats, and a pair of clear glass spectacles that, in his own eyes, did nothing to make him appear any smarter. But if they helped trick the servants at Kelby Hall—and the villain David—they were a small price to pay out of his ill-gotten gains.

It was still afternoon when he rode down the beech avenue, the golden façade of Kelby Hall glowing in the sunlight. Despite his disinclination, he’d read up a bit on the house in one of those “great families of Britain” books. The old earl’s ancestors had stolen the honey-colored stone from a nearby monastery. The building had an ecclesiastical look about it still, with winged stone angels over the carved oak front door and long gothic windows on the ground floor. What Reyn was about to do beneath its gabled roofs flew in the face of most of the Commandments.

The massive front door was opened by several footmen in silver and green livery well before he was anywhere near it. A groom appeared instantly to lead Phantom away, and Reyn was ushered into the vast paneled entry hall by the butler Amesbury, who was almost as old and starchy as the earl.

At one time, the room would have welcomed travelers with banquets and minstrels, but it was empty save for some massive paintings, tatty tapestries, and a couple uncomfortable-looking chairs before a sputtering fire at the far end. A waste, that. Who would sit there waiting for someone to knock on the door? Not that one would even need to knock. The staff at Kelby Hall seemed frighteningly on top of things.

That might prove to be a problem. Reyn took the spectacles out of his pocket and slid them onto his nose, hoping the length of it would keep them up. Durants tended to have long noses, giving them a Continental look. While in the army, he’d been teased for resembling the enemy. The back of his ears itched already from the metal stems.

Amesbury bent slightly at the waist. “We were expecting you, Captain. If you follow me, I’ll show you to your room. I trust you will find everything to your liking.”

Reyn followed Amesbury up a wide oak staircase, sure he’d be satisfied with the accommodations. He could tell the butler a thing or two about sleeping on the ground, and being glad of it—glad to be alive.

Reyn’s new London lodging was pleasant enough, but nothing compared to the elegant suite of rooms he was led to, once they’d climbed another set of stairs and walked to the end of an endless hallway. Old Amesbury was a bit breathless, but pointed out the desk in a corner of the sitting room, fully equipped for a man of letters with pens, pots of ink, a stack of foolscap, and clean ledgers. An open door led to a light-filled bedroom, which overlooked the tree-lined avenue. Through yet another door was a dressing room with its own copper tub and cedar wardrobe. A brace of maids entered with towels and jugs of water for the washstand, and a footman delivered Reyn’s well-stuffed saddlebag.

“I trust your trunks will be arriving shortly?” Amesbury asked.

Reyn had packed his most essential needs within the confines of the worn leather bag. He supposed it all looked inadequate for a month’s stay, but he wasn’t sure yet he’d be staying a month. If he did, he’d get a Christmas in the country out of it.

“My valet has it all in hand.” Reyn shrugged. Likely Gratton was drinking himself silly at that very moment in relief over not getting sacked. It had been a near thing once Reyn found out the man had directed Lady Kelby to the Reining Monarchs Society. If Reyn needed anything else for this “visit,” he could send word. The valet’s wages and his rent were paid up through the end of the year.

By January, Reyn might have a better idea how to spend his time as a civilian. Inventorying might prove interesting, if one didn’t want to read legible penmanship.

“Lord Kelby will see you in the library once you’ve refreshed yourself. Dinner will be brought to your rooms at eight o’clock, if that suits you.”

So, he wasn’t to dine with the family. Just as well. Reyn was not there as an honored guest, and he certainly did not have evening clothes with him. He was an employee, nothing more.

Not the sole hope of Clan Kelby.

“That suits me perfectly, Amesbury. I think I can remember where the library is.”

“Should you need assistance, sir, just ring. The staff is at your disposal. When it comes time for you to begin your duties, a set of stairs to the attics is convenient just through the door opposite your suite. You need not trouble yourself navigating all through the house.”

Clever of Lord Kelby to keep him confined to one end of the house like a mad uncle. But there must be other ways to gain entry to the attics, or Lady Kelby was going to attract unwanted attention coming too near his bedroom.

His meager belongings were swiftly unpacked and stowed, his face and hands cleaned of their road dirt, and his coat brushed, leaving no excuse not to locate the library. The architecture of the house was straightforward. Kelby Hall was one long rectangle of yellow stone divided by a center hall and numerous stairways. Everything eventually led back to the entrance hall in the middle of the house.

Reyn traversed it for the second time, noting its relative emptiness. All of the other ground floor rooms he passed had been overly furnished. It was as if Kelby Hall deliberately went out of its way not to make a grand impression, except for the sheer size of the room and its large fireplace. He could fit nearly all his friends—and there were a great many, for he was a good-natured fellow—in its interior, and they wouldn’t even have to duck. At one time, entire animals must have been roasted within, but the room now held an unwelcome chill.

He passed numerous footmen, standing tall along the corridors as any of his regiment on parade. How incredibly tedious. He would go mad rigged out in stiff livery, standing around waiting to be summoned.

The hurry up and wait of army life had been bad enough. Reyn was never so happy as when he was in the midst of battle or exploring a forest expecting the natives to jump out from behind the trees. Everything came into focus for him then. His objectives were clear—to save his scalp and preserve what was left of his skin, and keep his men safe. Such activity was not precisely restful, he realized. Ordinary people would find his delight in fright incomprehensible.

He wasn’t frightened as he tapped on the library door, but there was an unexpected constriction to his throat. He half expected one of the footmen to jump forward and open the door, but he managed to pull the knob all on his own.

The Earl of Kelby was hunched over a massive desk, strewn with papers from one corner to the other. He held a magnifying glass in his hand as well as wore half-moon spectacles. Presumably his weren’t for show. Reyn’s fingers went automatically to his own glasses and took them off. The earl followed suit and rose unsteadily from his chair.

“Camouflage, Captain Durant? I suppose Maris suggested them.”

Maris. Up till that moment, Reyn had not known her name. It suited her somehow, a firm name, but soft upon the tongue. Unusual, just like its owner.

“Yes, my lord, she did. But it will take more than clear glass to make a scholar out of me.”

“We’re not interested in your bookishness, as you know. It will be enough to appear as if you are working for me. Sit down, my boy, sit down.” The earl slid back into his leather seat.

“I’m not sure I’ve really changed my mind about this whole thing,” Reyn blurted. He remained standing, wondering if in fact he should bolt out the door and run by the army of footmen.

Kelby gave him a lopsided smile. “Crisis of conscience? That’s what your letter called it.”

Reyn had labored over that letter with painstaking care so as not to show his true ignorance. It had taken him hours to write it. “You must admit your offer was most singular.”

“It was. It is. I understand Maris has explained the situation more fully than I did at your interview.” The earl frowned at Reyn. “Captain, you’re going to give me a crick in my neck if you don’t settle yourself on that chair behind you.”

“I’m sorry, sir. My lord,” Reyn amended. He was not much used to conversing with such exalted personages. He collapsed into the chair and tried to look composed, but there was no disguising the whole situation made him nervous. Absently, his hand rubbed against the long scar on his thigh.

“Maris will be joining us shortly. I want to alleviate any awkwardness there might be. We’re all adults, are we not? With a common goal. I understand why this position may be somewhat distasteful to you, and I’m prepared to offer you an additional stipend, beyond what we discussed earlier, if you are successful. You have a sick sister, I know, and no means of support except for your gambling.”

Reyn swallowed hard. It was bribery, and the earl was good at it.

“Our original agreement was sufficient to my needs.”

“One can never have too much money, Captain. Don’t deny yourself and your sister out of pride.”

Reyn could see it was pointless to argue with the old man. “Very well. But I may not be successful.”

“I pray that you are. My nephew David killed my daughter, or as good as. She drowned herself in the lake because of him.” The earl’s hands shook as he spoke. “That is, of course, confidential. One more secret we have armed you with to destroy us.”

“I would not do such a thing!” Reyn was tempted to get up and leave, ride all the way back to London.

“No, I don’t believe you would. In fact, I am sure of it. I have every confidence in you.” The earl gave him a ghostly smile. “We put it about that it was an accident. To have David step into my shoes”—Kelby shook his head—“no, I cannot let that happen. The thought of it comes close to killing me right now where I sit. Even if Maris is blessed with a daughter from your union, at least she’ll have someone to comfort her when I’m gone.”

“She could marry again.” Reyn wished he could bite off his impulsive tongue.

The earl nodded. “So she could. She’s young enough, and her widow’s portion will be a lure to every fortune hunter in England. But my Maris is shy.”

Reyn harkened back to the avenging angel who ferreted him out at the Reining Monarchs Society. Shy was not quite the word he would have used to describe her, so he said nothing.

“You will have to be careful with her,” the earl continued.

Reyn could feel his ears going hot. He had never in his life had such a strange conversation. The earl was amazingly sanguine about giving instructions to another man as to how to bed his wife. It was clear from his tone and the careful words he used that he had great affection for Maris.

Reyn stood up abruptly. “How can you sit there and give me such advice?”

“What would you have me do, Captain? I’m dying. I don’t have time to p-ssyfoot around. I need an heir, but I’m not heartless. Maris is a special woman. I’d like her to have some enjoyment over this thing I’ve asked her to do for me. She’s . . . inexperienced. My fault entirely. Consenting to this goes against every rule she’s ever followed, and believe me, she’s a rule follower. Has been since she was a little girl, except when she’s donned breeches to help me in my excavating.” The earl smiled at the memory, and Reyn instantly pictured the tall Lady Kelby’s long legs encased in tight gentlemen’s trousers.

“But I know she loves me, or thinks she does,” Kelby continued. “She’s been loyal. Faithful. I won’t have her mistreated.”

“I would never—” Reyn stopped himself. A week ago he’d wielded a whip on Patsy Rumford’s white behind and thought nothing of it except that it was a bit boring. “I will treat your wife with all due respect and consideration.”

“Good. Then we understand each other. Let’s hope your seed takes and we can be quit of each other soon. I imagine you’d like nothing better. Sit back down, Captain, and try to relax.”

As if he could. “Why did you pick me? Did you think I was the sort of man who would do anything—even this—for money?”

“I had you investigated, Captain Durant. Beyond Mr. Ramsey’s recommendation. You are remarkably honest, even to your own detriment. Honorable. You were brave in service, if a bit foolhardy. Restless. Ready for action. I want any child of mine to be curious about the world, not just sit around waiting for things to happen. I haven’t always been buried behind a stack of books in this library, you know. As a young man, I was active. Spent a great deal of time on the Continent. In Italy, specifically.”

The earl placed a pale broad hand on an ornate stone box anchoring a sheaf of papers. “The Etruscan civilization is my specialty. I dug this cista up myself when I was about your age. Just look at the details! It was my first major find, but not my last. I plan to give a lecture series on all my discoveries next spring at Oxford, if I’m still alive. Publish a book for posterity. Maris has been invaluable helping me get my notes in order and doing some illustrations.”

“Your experiences on the Continent were far different than mine,” Reyn reminded him. “I joined the army when I was sixteen. But it was not a Grand Tour by any means.”

Kelby chuckled. “I dare say not. But you learned a thing or two, did you not?”

“Nothing I could write a book about.” Nothing anyone could read, at any rate.

But if the earl had looked into Reyn’s background, surely he must have discovered his difficulties in school.

“This restlessness of mine you seem to favor—I must tell you, it does not spring from intellectual precocity. Studies bored me stiff. I was the despair of a half dozen headmasters.”

“Perhaps you had not yet found your niche. Some people bloom late.”

“I’m afraid my garden’s overgrown with weeds at this point.”

The earl waggled his fingers. “Nonsense. Learning is a lifelong endeavor. I’m almost in my eighth decade on this earth, and every day brings new information.”

Reyn shrugged and changed the subject. “This inventory you wish me to begin—won’t the work take Lady Kelby away from your own efforts?”

“I’m nearly done with the last chapter. She’ll have plenty of time to get it all shipshape for me. And apropos of new information, I’d really like to know what’s upstairs in all those crates before I shuffle off this mortal coil. You’ll be killing two birds with one stone for me.” The earl chuckled. “I’m afraid my father and grandfather—and nearly every other Kelby earl collected more than they ever could display in the house properly. I understand the housemaids complain about dusting all the objets d’art as it is. That’s why it’s critical we add a gallery wing to Kelby Hall and curate the truly valuable pieces. Another project for the spring, God willing.”

“You would turn the house into a museum?” Reyn asked doubtfully. He couldn’t imagine strangers wandering down the long corridors, rooms roped off and defended by the footmen.

“Not all of it, of course, but some of the greatest houses in the land are open to the public. There are too many treasures here to hoard in dusty attics and packing crates.”

“Why not simply donate them?”

“I thought my wife had explained the unusual stipulations of the entail to you.”

Had she? Reyn had been too busy trying to shock the stuffing out of Lady Kelby to remember everything she’d said.

He did remember the kiss, though, and the way she’d felt in his arms. The softness of her lips. The scent of soap and rosewater. The silk of her exposed skin. The way her body shuddered against his, ever so briefly.

“I’ll try to pay closer attention to Lady Kelby in the future, my lord. I swear to you if I do this thing, you will have no cause for worry. I shall treat her with consummate care.”

The earl raised a feathery white eyebrow. “If?”

“I will try, Lord Kelby. That’s all I can promise. Your wife might not be agreeable in the end.”

Maris Kelby had made it plain from the first moment she’d tracked him down that she wished to keep Reyn at a considerable distance.

The earl nodded and pointed to a bellpull not far from where they sat. “Would you ring for Lady Kelby? She is awaiting our summons. We shall all take tea together. I reckon you are tired from your journey and could use some refreshment before dinner.”

“I’d rather have a brandy, and that’s the truth,” Reyn said, rising.

“Dutch courage? My reports did not reveal you to be a habitual drinker, Captain.”

It should bother him more that Kelby had picked apart his life, but Reyn supposed it was understandable. Blood will out. “I am not. I’ve always preferred to have my wits about me.” Scattered as they sometimes are.

The occasion was so damned uncomfortable, Reyn welcomed a little blurring of his senses. He imagined Maris Kelby might like to take the edge off her fear as well.

She didn’t wish to get to know him any better or become his friend. He could understand that, but he was damned if she thought they could simply fit together like stiff wooden puzzle pieces. He had to woo her in a way that wouldn’t alarm her, and woo himself, too, since she was far from the kind of woman he was used to taking sport with, lately.

“Help yourself to the drinks table then.” Cut-glass decanters on a low sideboard twinkled in the sunlight.

Reyn rose, wishing he wouldn’t have to sit down again and make idle conversation with the Kelbys. How long could tea last? And when would they expect him to begin this infernal job? It was all so very wrong.

He poured amber liquid into a glass, not bothering to read the silver tag on the bottle. It didn’t matter what kind of liquor it was. It would never be enough.