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 pussyfoot 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 E
truscan 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.
Chapter 6
Maris smoothed the wine-colored ruffles on the bodice of her new dress, took a deep breath, and followed the servants with the tea cart into her husband’s library. Both men stood at her entrance, Henry rising much more slowly than Captain Durant. She kept her eyes on the earl’s face so Durant was just a dark smudge on the periphery of her vision.
The earl smiled. “Ah! Good afternoon, my dear. Would you do us the honor of pouring our tea? Or would you like another whiskey, Captain Durant?”
“No thank you, my lord. Good afternoon, Lady Kelby.”
The captain seemed subdued, which was a good thing. Kelby Hall could have an intimidating effect on the most well-connected visitor, and by Captain Durant’s own account, he was a nobody. Maris sat on the tufted leather sofa in the center of the room and waited for the maid and footman to arrange the tea table in front of it. Once they left, the men crossed the room, Henry leaning heavily on his stick as he made his way to her. Maris wondered where his bath chair was. He had been using it more and more of late, complaining that every time he took a step he could hear his knees and ankles crack like rifle fire. No doubt he didn’t want to appear at a disadvantage before Captain Durant. Henry had once been a vigorous man, and it was difficult for him to accept his limitations. When she had been a little girl, he’d been very dashing.
She prepared Henry’s cup as Captain Durant took the seat to her right. That might have been rude to her guest, but it was her foolish way of letting him know that her husband would always come first, no matter what lay ahead between them. “How do you take your tea, Captain?” she asked, once she had given Henry a plate of small sandwiches and biscuits.
“Just a bit of sugar, my lady.”
Maris’s hand shook only a little as she dropped a lump into the captain’s cup. She’d skip the sugar in her own. The tongs felt clumsy between her fingers today.
Durant helped himself to a piece of fruitcake as she sat back and swallowed a mouthful of strong India tea. Henry had already relegated his untouched plate to the table next to him. She would not nag at him, but hoped he would do justice to their dinner later on.
“Your trip to Surrey was uneventful, Captain?” she asked politely.
“Quite. I stopped to see my sister yesterday and stayed the night.”
“And she is improving?”
“That is my fondest wish, though it’s too soon to tell. I found her in good spirits, at any rate, entertaining the vicar. I begin to think the man does not simply visit each Sunday out of concern for her immortal soul.”
Maris smiled a little at the captain’s grimace. “You suspect a romance then?”
“I do after yesterday. Perhaps I was just too blind to see it before.” Durant did not look especially pleased at the prospect of having a man of the cloth as a brother-in-law. Little wonder, after his most recent activities and what he was about to embark upon.
“I wish your sister every happiness. I’m sure she deser
ves it.” Maris examined the bottom of her cup, wishing she could interpret the dregs as some gypsies did. What did her future hold, and how quickly could she get through this awkward present?
Well, there was always the weather, the last refuge of conversational inanity. “Today was ideal for traveling on horseback. December travel can be so chancy.” Maris wished Henry would say something, anything.
His black gaze flicked over his tea cup from her to the captain, but he was maddeningly quiet.
“It was very pleasant. The countryside hereabouts is delightful.” Durant turned to Kelby. “Do you ride, my lord?”
Henry set his cup down. “On occasion. Not enough to suit me, but my wife worries. I admit my stamina is not what it once was. Maris is quite a good horsewoman. I taught her myself when she was just a little bit of a thing. Taught her and Jane, though Maris took to the saddle far better than my daughter. Perhaps you both should spend some time together exploring the area before the snow flies.”
By God, Henry is playing matchmaker. Maris couldn’t bear it. “We won’t have time for that, Henry. What about the inventory?” She charged the word with the meaning they had agreed upon, but Henry deliberately ignored it.
“I’ve waited a lifetime to see what’s up there. A few hours in Captain Durant’s company in the fresh air won’t hurt you, my dear. Winter will come, and then you’ll be shut up indoors. You permit yourself so few amusements.”
“I am perfectly amused by helping you, Henry.”
“And what sort of life is that for a young woman, holed up within these four walls, day in, day out?”
“I’m hardly a young woman anymore,” Maris muttered.
“You’re not yet in your dotage. And a very handsome woman, don’t you think, Captain Durant?”
“Henry!” His name came out as a wild plea. For something. A stop to the discussion, for sure. Maris’s cheeks were so hot they matched her dress. It was a mistake to wear it. To show off. Everything was a horrible, horrible mistake.
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