“Oh, no. He takes a tray in the library so he can write and read and eat. He’s very devoted to his work.” She had better luck with the strings of her front-lacing corset and the petticoat tapes.
“That must be lonely for you.”
“Well, that’s one reason I’ve helped him all these years, otherwise I’d never get to see him,” Maris admitted. It had been a grand adventure accompanying him to digs, but organizing and writing about their discoveries was much less stimulating.
“Why can’t we follow suit and have some food sent up here?” Reyn asked.
“I’ve told the servants not to disturb us, and I don’t want to take the chance they’ll find out what’s going on. Look at me!”
“I am. And I quite like what I see.”
Maris waved him away. “You needn’t stoop to flattery. My hair is a nest.”
“Let me fix it for you. Put your dress on and let me get to work as your maid.”
She really didn’t have much choice. There was no mirror except a shattered one in a fine gilt frame three rooms over. Another thing to tote upstairs with a brush and comb.
Reyn gathered up the fallen pins amongst the pillows and made her sit at the worktable. And then he did an extraordinary thing. He rubbed her head, slipping firm fingers through her loose hair, pressing onto her scalp in hypnotic motion. For a minute Maris wondered if he might make even more of a tangle of her hair, but the head massage was so wonderful she held her tongue. The tension she felt now that she was no longer prone in his arms disappeared and she felt the coiled springs along her spine relax.
He seemed to know it, dropping a light kiss below her left ear. Then he got busy braiding and pinning.
“It is with the greatest reluctance that I’m giving you this abomination,” Reyn said, handing her the cap. “Why do women wear such things? You can’t imagine men like them. You might as well be wearing a nappy on your head.”
Maris shrugged as she tied it under her chin. She wasn’t sure why caps were the custom. Perhaps that was something she could research in the future. There were biblical admonitions to cover one’s head, and Maris supposed fashion could stem from fear of God as well as anything else.
She wasn’t much for fashion, wasn’t even wearing one of her new dresses. Maris felt a little silly thinking they had been a necessary purchase to make her more palatable to Captain Durant. He seemed to like her just fine as she was.
Did it matter what he thought of her? He said he wanted to be friends, and they seemed to have reached some sort of understanding. At least enough for him to make his job look close enough to pleasure.
She hadn’t closed her eyes, but he had, as she’d asked him to that first day. Reyn had been beautiful as he’d strained over her, each perfect, hard thrust accompanied by a near prayerful expression on his face.
If he’d opened his eyes and looked down, he would have caught her spying.
Those eyes were so dark. Penetrating. Maris was afraid he’d see inside her, know somehow the secrets she kept. She imagined he didn’t have to terrier or ferret much. Something about the man made confession almost inevitable.
“You look very respectable, madam.” He began to step into his own clothes with a fluid grace Maris would never manage. “Well then, I propose we share a lunch. Not in that gilded barn you call a dining room of course. I expect Kelby Hall has something more modest—a third or fourth best dining room as it were.”
Maris imagined sitting opposite him in the cozy paneled room where she usually took her daytime meals, sunlight shafting through the windows. Despite its relative informality, there were always footmen about, waiting to jump at her every word. “I-I don’t think that would be wise. We don’t want to engender talk amongst the servants.”
“Don’t you think I can keep my hands to myself? I swear I won’t give you one longing look of lust in public. None of this.” He made a face at her, which was a close approximation of a sleek, worshipful hound.
She smiled in spite of herself. “Maybe I worry about what I might do.”
“Nonsense. You’ll chew your food and pass the peas and be the perfect countess.”
He didn’t know her at all. For one thing, she loathed peas. “Oh, Reyn. I’ve never been a perfect countess. I just don’t think Henry would approve of us eating together.” She caught the look on his face and hurried on. “I know it seems absurd after what we’ve just done. What we’ll do again. The . . . the intimacy. But he was specific about you dining in your suite.”
Reyn looked more annoyed than hurt, but nodded. “All right. I’ll meet you back here at two-thirty. I don’t need two hours to eat lunch, you know.”
“The servants will require the time to prepare and deliver your meal. Cook is very particular.”
“Some bread and cheese and a pickle or two are just fine. I’ve marched on much less.” He was dressed, and did not look as rumpled as she felt.
“Ask for anything you want.”
“I don’t think I can have what I want,” Reyn said quietly, and disappeared through the door.
Maris swallowed. Blast. He hadn’t said the last sentence with any kind of teasing flirtatiousness.
She was not prepared for the man to become serious. Maris was thinking enough for the both of them. Reyn was much easier to deal with when he was playing the boyish ne’er-do-well without a thought in his head.
She reached into her pocket for a handkerchief to blot any trace of his kisses away and came upon the emerald. Hard to believe she could have forgotten about such an amazing find, but she had. Reyn had swept her mind free of everything but the scent of his skin and the sureness of his touch.
What was she to do with the thing? It must be ridiculously valuable. She would put it in her safe before she went down to eat.
Alone.
Chapter 14
Reyn looked at his watch for the fourth time in ten minutes. He’d been at the little table in his sitting room for most of an hour, staring at the empty gold-rimmed dishes. Fancy dinnerware for his requested humble fare, but he wasn’t used to a heavy meal in the middle of the day, particularly after such a huge breakfast. At this rate, they’d have to roll him out of Kelby Hall. Poor old Phantom would buck him right off.
He wondered how the horse was faring in the stable block. Probably eating his head off, too. Everything was first-rate at Kelby Hall for humans and animals alike. Perhaps once he and the countess finished the day’s work, he’d give himself and his horse some exercise and ride out to explore the Surrey countryside. A few minutes of fucking was not enough to quell the need his body had for release.
Reyn frowned. There had to be a better word for what was happening with Maris Kelby. Something not so crude. It had been anything but.
Would she want him to do it again this afternoon? Truly, he’d have no objection.
He sensed she was unused to such activity. He’d probably made her sore already. She was tall and well made, but there was a delicacy about her which made him feel protective. He wished he could have a frank conversation with her, but didn’t want to pry. He’d have to settle for what her body told him.
She came to orgasm easily, a rarity for a woman, as he knew from experience. He’d often had to labor much harder—labor that was entirely pleasant, naturally—to achieve such responsiveness.
Maris Kelby held nothing back when she was in his arms. It was out of them when she armored herself in a protective shell of hesitance and propriety.
That was probably for the best. In a month he would be gone, and she could go on with her privileged life. He pictured her lounging in her boudoir, long fingers busy with needle and thread, making neat stitches on a baby’s cap. Did countesses even sew?
She would be a careful mother, of that he was sure. Nothing like his own. Corinne Durant was too busy with cards and cotillions to pay much attention to her two children. When the debts rose and invitations stopped pouring in, his parents had slipped from one strata of society to the next below, until th
ere was very little space between hell and their unpaid-for shoes.
Ah. That reminded him. He went to his dressing room, all traces of his earlier ablutions removed by efficient servants. His saddlebag hung on a hook on the papered wall and he reached inside. He needed to return Maris’s embroidered bedroom slippers. They were much more interesting than most of the objects he’d seen that morning, save for the emerald. A little worn, they were exquisitely sewn with tiny forget-me-nots and curly ribbon. Had Maris made them herself?
She had biggish feet—not that he’d ever say so—but he managed to fold the thin-soled slippers into his pocket. He would go upstairs even though it wasn’t time yet, for he was desperate for something to occupy him. He could move a few more boxes into the workroom.
There would be more waiting around in the attics, too, as Maris hunched over the table examining all the ugly objets d’art with her spectacles sliding down her nose. Reyn was not much good at waiting but he’d make the effort. For her.
What in hell was happening to him? It really wouldn’t be wise to fall in lust with the Countess of Kelby.
Reyn rang for his dishes to be removed. One of the Johns—not Aloysius—appeared almost instantly. Reyn waited until the hallway was empty, then went upstairs. He took off his jacket and cravat and rolled up his sleeves. He had a feeling Maris had not seen too many male forearms. Even the gardeners he’d seen earlier were covered in long-sleeved smocks against the cold. A gentleman did not remove his coat to work in front of a lady. Actually a gentleman did not, as a rule, do manual labor, unless he made an appearance at the haying to impress his tenants. Even Reyn’s own father had dirtied his hands on occasion when he had tenants to impress as he won—then lost—one ramshackle country property after the other.
He was thinking nonsense. Of course Maris had seen her husband at work. Presumably the Earl of Kelby had not worn evening clothes as he tramped the Tuscan hillsides with a spade. From what Reyn pieced together, in his prime, the man had been a force to be reckoned with.
Reyn felt a stab of jealousy, not for the man’s position and possessions, but for the loyalty of his countess . . . whom he vowed to leave alone this afternoon no matter how much he didn’t want to.
He trotted back and forth until he’d brought in almost everything that was light enough for him to handle. At the snail-like pace Maris was going, they would be at it for weeks. He picked up the ledger and marveled at her handwriting. He couldn’t read half of it but it was very pretty. She had drawn illustrations of some of the more decorative things in the margins too, and her artistic skill was impressive. The dents on a chalice, the scrollwork on a knife handle—all of it detailed and precise. Exacting. He looked at the tower of boxes and groaned inwardly.
There were perks to the job, however, perks that made up for the tedium. He brightened as he heard Maris’s tread on the steps at last. She was late according to his timepiece.
“I’ve been working like a slave,” he began, and then saw her white face. “What is it? Did something happen?” Was the old earl—
“D-David is here.”
She was clearly frightened, and he sought to soothe her. “You said he was apt to turn up. I’m surprised your husband allows it.”
“Henry doesn’t know he’s here yet. David knows better than to bother him. He’s come to see me. Someone told David you were at Kelby Hall. He must have a spy on the estate in his employ to carry gossip,” she said with bitterness.
“Hold on a minute. Is he banned from coming here?” Reyn would take the utmost pleasure in throwing the man out.
Maris shook her head. “He receives a quarterly allowance according to the terms of his father’s will. He used to come in person to collect it, and much more often, just to be a nuisance. Since Jane died, he’s been too smart to try to see Henry, but he’s written to him. The threats . . . ” Maris took a gulp of air. “I don’t want my husband disturbed by his visit. If he knew David was here, I can’t imagine what he’d do.”
Reyn supposed it was perfectly possible that in a house this size, one might have a houseguest for months without ever laying eyes on him. Nevertheless, it seemed odd that the earl wasn’t informed of his nephew’s presence. The old fellow would no doubt instruct a few of the Johns to throw him out on his arse.
“Did he come for his money?”
“I gave it to him last month.”
“Well, then. Send him on his way.”
“I-I can’t. He says he’s staying until he’s assured you won’t make off with any Kelby treasures.”
Reyn was dumbfounded. “Me? Run off with such rubbish? I should be offended he thinks I’m so stupid. And I thought he didn’t care about the Kelby Collection anyway.”
“He doesn’t really, but he doesn’t know what might be in the attics. No one does. May I remind you, there was the emerald.”
“Which I hope you are not going to turn over to him. What have you done with it?”
“It’s in the strongbox in my bedroom.”
“Good. Keep it there. I don’t mind meeting with the man, Maris. Let him snoop his fill and then go away.”
“You c-can’t call me Maris. David is very sharp. If he discovers you are not who you claim to be—” She shivered.
Reyn was across the floor in a second, and Maris was in his arms the next. “I will do nothing to arouse his suspicions. I’ll even wear the damned spectacles if you want me to.” They were jammed in his pocket just in case.
“Oh, Reyn! I thought we’d have more time to prepare for him. What if he asks you questions?”
“I’ve only been up here a day, haven’t I? It’s not like we’ve had time to find much. And so I’ll tell him.” He smelled roses and starch as he tucked her into the crook of his arm. “When do you want me to see him?”
“Right now, if you can. He’s waiting in my sitting room. David has reserved a bed in Kelby Village for the night, but maybe he’ll go away tomorrow if he’s satisfied.”
It irked Reyn that there was another man in Maris’s private space, but at least he’d get to see how she lived. It was unlikely he’d ever receive an invitation to enter her boudoir again.
Reyn dressed in haste, taking care to muss his hair and put the useless spectacles on his face before he followed Maris downstairs. He was going for the distracted scholar look. He’d seen plenty of masters so wrapped up in their studies they sometimes didn’t even notice the dark-haired boy in the back of the room sticking his tongue out at them and lobbing spitballs.
His hands were dirty, so he shoved them in his pocket along with Maris’s slippers, praying that David Kelby had never heard of Captain Reynold Durant, late of His Majesty’s Army. His best bet was to say as little as possible, which would be easy as he had no real knowledge of the junk upstairs.
The door to Maris’s suite was open. Her maid Betsy was standing rather nervously at the entrance as though she was preventing their unwanted guest from leaving.
“There you are, my lady. I told Mr. Kelby you’d be right down and there was no need to go upstairs.”
David Kelby did not look as if he meant to go anywhere anytime soon. He was sprawled out on a striped pink wing chair and took his own sweet time standing as the countess entered the room. “Aunt Maris, I had begun to despair of ever seeing your fair face again. Whatever took you so long?”
Reyn wished his clear lenses weren’t so smudged, though he could see Kelby well enough. The man bore an uncanny resemblance to his uncle, same angular build, dark eyes and hawkish nose. His hair was auburn rather than silver, though his temples were dusted with gray.
It was his voice that set Reyn’s teeth on edge. It was deceptively mellow, yet Reyn could hear the barb behind the words. In an instant, the bumbling professor disappeared and he straightened up. “I’m afraid I don’t have time to entertain your guests, Lady Kelby. I answer only to Lord Kelby. What do you want to speak to me about?”
Perhaps he’d overdone it. David Kelby’s face suffused with color. “Goo
d Lord, Maris. The man is a rude savage. Where did Uncle Henry dig him up?”
“He has impeccable credentials. Captain Durant, may I present my husband’s nephew, David Kelby. As my husband’s heir, he believes he has a right to stick his nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
“Come now, Maris. You didn’t mind me sticking my . . . nose in before.”
Maris stiffened at Reyn’s side.
Holy hell. Reyn balled his fists, his mind racing at Kelby’s blatant implication. But as ordinary hired help, he was meant not to know anything about Lady Kelby. He’d be a fool to defend her honor.
When she might not have any.
No. Maris Kelby was not a loose woman. Reyn would swear to that on a stack of Bibles he couldn’t read.
What had transpired between them? Nothing good, he was sure. A few seconds in Kelby’s presence and Reyn yearned to knock the man down. The man was . . . oily, even if he was handsome. Reyn supposed some women might be persuaded by such charm, but he couldn’t imagine Maris falling for it.
“I’m very busy, Kelby. While your concern for your uncle is admirable, I assure you I’m not going to make off with the family silver. My interest is purely academic. When the inventory is complete, perhaps the countess will share it with you. If that’s all, my lady, I’ll go back upstairs while there is still enough light to do my work.”
“Not so fast, Durant. Captain, is it? How did you find time to study ancient history while you were in the army?”
“I was not born in boots. I went to school, of course.” Please don’t ask me how many.
“Cambridge or Oxford?”
“Neither.” Reyn made it sound like neither institution was worthy of him, not that either place would have enrolled him. “I was privately tutored.” His Majesty had provided him with a Grand Tour of some of the best sites in Europe.
“Do you share my uncle’s mania for Etruscan artifacts?”
“That is not my area of expertise.” Please don’t ask me what is.
“David,” Maris said impatiently, “Captain Durant came highly recommended. Henry is satisfied with his honesty and integrity. His employment is really none of your business.”
Captain Durant's Countess Page 14
