Captain Durant's Countess

by Robinson, Maggie

  “At first I was fine with it all. I never expected to marry, and I’ve never really been domestic. Give me a book over a sewing basket any day. I was happy accompanying Henry to Italy and spending time in the library with him. But he grew weaker, and our foreign trips were curtailed. I-I was at loose ends. David was a frequent visitor then, and he was very flattering. Too flattering. I should have known better. He made me feel . . . wicked. And I liked it.”

  Reyn was wrong. The confession was not making her feel any better. A horrible silence hung between them. It was suddenly very important to her that he not hold her in contempt. If she continued, it was inevitable that he would.

  She lurched off the bench. “I must get back inside.”

  “Sit down, Maris. You aren’t finished.”

  “I am! I cannot discuss this with you! It isn’t proper and I-I hate talking about it.”

  He rose too. “We left propriety behind quite some time ago, wouldn’t you agree? What you felt—what you feel—is natural. You are a flesh and blood woman, not like that statue over there. Come, let’s walk. It’s a beautiful afternoon, much too nice to be shut up in the attics.”

  “S-someone will notice.” She felt eyes were everywhere. David had robbed her of security in her own home.

  “Pretend you’re educating me about the statuary. Wave your arms about and point. I’m sure if I were really a scholar I’d be interested, wouldn’t I?” He grinned at her. Reynold Durant had an easy answer to everything, even if the questions were impossible.

  “I really have nothing to add. I betrayed my husband for a few weeks for what was ultimately wretched. When it was over, I was little more informed of carnal pleasure than when I started.”

  Reyn’s grin was wider. “So David was not a good lover?”

  Maris wanted to slink into the shrubbery. “I was just there to be conquered. A challenge. David was much too selfish to care about me.”

  “Nothing like me, then.”

  “Oh! You are incorrigible.” How could he tease her about something so serious?

  “Always. Look, you made a mistake over a man. These things happen, more often than you might imagine. David preyed upon your naïveté.”

  “I was old enough. I was nine and twenty!”

  “Well, coincidentally I am too. Today’s my birthday. I think I’m still young enough to fall for a pretty face and a sweet lie.”

  Maris didn’t believe him for a minute. “You say that to be kind. And happy birthday. This is not much of a celebratory day, is it.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. This morning was very pleasant.” He winked, still keeping his distance.

  She remembered to gesture to a black marble plinth as they strolled by it. “How can you be so casual about everything?”

  Reyn stopped on the path. “What would you have me do? Whip you with one of the crops from the Reining Monarchs? You’ve been punishing yourself enough for a long time. What is it now, five years? You cannot change the mistake you made, only learn from it. You haven’t been having it off with the gardener or the vicar since, have you? Or perhaps one of the Johns? And seriously, Maris, would it be too much to let the footmen keep their names?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. My point is, you are not a serial adulteress. You were taken advantage of by a professional seducer. I recognized his type at once. If you’d had more experience—if you hadn’t grown up so sheltered here in this alternate world—you might have been better able to deal with the man. I imagine your husband would even understand and forgive you if you were to tell him.”

  “No! And please don’t say anything.”

  He looked affronted. “As if I would. It’s not my place to get mixed up in the affairs of my betters.”

  “You know perfectly well you are as good as anyone here. Superior, probably.”

  “Are you a Jacobin, Lady Kelby? The revolution did not end well. And if you do believe in democracy, would you please explain about the footmen?”

  “This is the second time you’ve brought them up,” Maris said, confused.

  “They’re all called John.”

  “Um, yes.”

  “Why?”

  Maris had never thought about it before. From her infancy, she’d been surrounded by bewigged and green-coated Johns. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

  “How would you like it if I called you Harriet? Or Griselda? Antigone? Philomena?”

  Her lips turned up a little. “I shouldn’t like that at all.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t. Maris is a lovely name, and your parents picked it carefully for you, as you said. You’ve got a houseful of Aloysiuses and Timothys and Williams all skulking about under false names.”

  “There can’t be more than one Aloysius.”

  “Perhaps not, but would it be too much trouble to learn the men’s given names? Never mind. I guess it would. There are so damn many footmen here I suppose it’s convenient to holler ‘John’ and know for sure someone will turn up. What the devil is that?”

  They had come to a stone sarcophagus. A rather short knight lay in repose, his sword at his side and a dog of indeterminate parentage at his feet.

  “That’s the first Earl of Kelby. Don’t worry, he’s not inside. He’s buried somewhere in the Holy Land.”

  “How lucky for you. I would hate to worry that every time a bulb was planted the gardeners might unearth a dead relative.” Reyn was diverting her, something he was very good at. It was impossible to feel too melancholy in his presence.

  Was he right? Should she forgive herself for her stupidity? It had been five long years of scourging herself. Diminishing her pleasure in ordinary things. Feeling inadequate and unworthy. By God, she’d been frightfully boring, even to herself. Henry had not noticed, of course, but she hadn’t felt a spark of emotion in years.

  Except for her anger at Captain Reynold Durant when he refused to keep his word. He still made her feel something, but it wasn’t anger.

  If she could find the courage to tell Henry the truth, then David’s incessant requests for money would be moot. She didn’t believe he wouldn’t try for more despite what she’d said to him. Something had snapped when she’d tossed him the coin purse. But she wasn’t naïve enough to believe he’d stop importuning her for more money, because eventually he’d figure out she’d been bluffing.

  She’d been brave today. And cold. Maris had found words she didn’t even know she possessed. Could she find more words to tell Henry?

  Chapter 16

  Reyn was jealous. He shouldn’t be, but there it was. He hadn’t shown his irritation to Maris, for what good would that have done her, blubbering on the bench like her dog had died? Speaking of dogs, how could she have fallen victim to a cur like David Kelby?

  Well, he’d explained it to her himself. It didn’t make it any easier to swallow, however. He wasn’t angry at her, but for her. She really was such an innocent for all her scholarly knowledge.

  She had been a twenty-nine-year-old virgin until her misguided affair with her husband’s nephew. It was sad, yet somehow touching. The poor woman had never enjoyed what should have been her right by marriage. The elderly Earl of Kelby may have been hopeful when he placed that large diamond on his young wife’s finger, but must have known his limitations.

  She’d had five years of companionship and affection without intercourse. That may have been enough for some women. Maris had probably convinced herself it was enough for her until the snake slithered into the garden and into her.

  Reyn was a firm believer that women deserved as much satisfaction in bed as their partners, but apparently David Kelby did not share a similar generous impulse.

  Benefitting from her innocence—her wonder and eagerness were precious—was Reyn’s alone. No other man had seen her flame, not even her husband, so Reyn would have to be content with that. In all the ways that counted, he was Maris’s first lover.

  It was rather daunting. Reyn felt a responsibility, as if he carried a ban
ner to uphold all male honor.

  Instinctively, he knew Maris would never engage in another love affair. If they were successful, he was sure she’d devote the rest of her life to their child. That would be a shame, really. She’d already sacrificed her youth to her elderly husband and her aspirations to an unworthy partner. She would never make time for her needs. No wonder she was so highly strung.

  At least she wasn’t crying any longer. Their walk around the garden was almost normal. She did indeed describe the stone objects at the center of every garden room. Reyn was conscious that despite the brick walls and clipped hedges, their movements were visible from the upper stories of the house. He had spotted her from the attic window—a forlorn figure headed as far away from Kelby Hall as possible. They would have to be more circumspect than ever.

  She couldn’t outrun her past, just make peace with it. He listened with half an ear as they went through an iron gate to the sweep of lawn above the water. She was talking about the little rotunda perched on the island in the center of the lake. Its design was based on some obscure ruin which Reyn cared not one whit about.

  “Enough, Lady Kelby. If I’d wanted to take a degree in architecture or history I would have.”

  Maris blushed.

  He was becoming very used to her pretty pink cheeks.

  “I’m sorry. I do tend to go on.”

  “Is that boat functional?”

  “You cannot think to row me out there. People really will notice us then.”

  “You are right. It’s too cold anyway. Let’s return to the house. You’re probably chilled to the bone. Have you any idea who Kelby might be paying to spy on you?”

  “No. Henry is a very generous employer. I can’t imagine why someone might be tempted to betray him.”

  “Oh, come now. Money is the universal language, is it not? Temptation enough in its own right. Maybe it’s someone who prefers his own name to John and is out for revenge.”

  “Stop teasing about that. I had nothing to do with the renaming of the servants. I don’t even think it was Henry’s idea. It’s just Kelby tradition.”

  “Some traditions should die out, don’t you think? Do you expect your son to travel the globe and bring back more trash to Kelby Hall? There’s enough here already.” He could not see the value in much of what he’d seen over the past two days.

  “If he—or she—chooses an interest in history, I would not object,” Maris said primly.

  “What about the present?” Reyn argued. “Surely one should enjoy oneself in the here and now.”

  “How do you enjoy yourself, Captain Durant? Whipping women?”

  “I told you that was not my usual kind of thing!” Reyn sputtered. What exactly had he said about the Reining Monarchs? “I was . . . bored. At loose ends. A friend proposed me for membership and I didn’t see the harm.”

  “You didn’t see the harm? Perhaps you do need those spectacles after all.”

  Wait a minute. How had they gone from him trying to cheer her up to this attack on his character? It was she who’d broken a commandment.

  Instead of giving her a blistering set-down, he bit his tongue near bloody. She was in a wretched fix and he happened to be a handy whipping boy.

  The thought of her whipping him made him laugh out loud.

  “What is so amusing?”

  “You wouldn’t understand, Maris. I’m not sure I do myself. Let’s cry friends. Go back upstairs to work.”

  “N-now?”

  “It won’t be dark for a while.”

  “All right.” She said the words with very little conviction, and would have been even less enthusiastic if she knew what he planned to do to her once she got upstairs.

  Reyn had been hired for a job, and a job he would do. He could make Maris forget for a few minutes about David Kelby and the Earl of Kelby and all the Kelbys that had come before them. He was damned annoyed with the Kelbys, men who seemed to revere inanimate objects rather than treat the living well, particularly the Kelby women.

  It hadn’t taken much, a brush of his lips on the back of her neck and she bent over the desk, his hand squeezing her shoulder. She’d looked up, her questioning brown eyes magnified by her spectacles. Reyn didn’t have to say a word to make her drop the pen, rise, and retreat behind the screen. They had undressed each other, hands slow and steady, never breaking eye contact.

  It was the most honest interaction he’d ever had with a woman. Maris’s trust was a living thing, a gift he could never equal. What he gave her body was nothing to what she gave his soul—her acceptance, her faith, her respect. He wasn’t worthy, but would work to be.

  Reyn let her take charge, placing her over him. Once she realized what could be done, she laughed in delight and proceeded to obliterate all his thoughts but one. He loved her.

  That certainly proved what a fool he was. He wasn’t in the habit of falling in love. Yes, he enjoyed more than his fair share of women. Who wouldn’t, when given the opportunity? But his heart had never been engaged. It shouldn’t be engaged now. Maris Kelby was completely wrong for him, and it wasn’t just because she was married or a countess. Her intellect was far superior to his own. Would she still like him if she discovered he couldn’t even read what she’d been writing in that ledger? He was worse than a child, for at least a child had hope of the future.

  Reyn shut his eyes to the beauty of her arching above him, her lush breasts bouncing as she came down smooth and hard on his cock. He would concentrate on what was, not on what couldn’t be. He was inside . . . no, temporarily outside . . . the Countess of Kelby . . . ah, sweet Jesus. He slipped his hand between them, touching her where she needed to be touched.

  Maris bit back a cry and lost her rhythm, but Reyn made up for it by righting her and thrusting deep. He would not let her lose him when he was so close to completion. He pressed and rubbed his thumb against her and felt the jagged tremors start, sweeping him right away with her.

  He wanted to open his eyes and watch her come apart, but was afraid to. He didn’t need that tempting image in his head, a nagging companion to remind him of what was not his. Was Maris watching him or lost in her own secret world? Reyn wondered if he looked as frantic as he felt. He wrestled his face into a semblance of sanity and buried himself one final time, spending the last drop of seed inside her.

  She collapsed atop him, shuddering. Her skin was hot damp velvet. He skimmed her back, coming to rest on her soft bottom. The next time, he’d enter her from behind. He vowed he’d give her as many variations as he knew before he left her. Reyn was still bearing that banner for all male honor, not that he minded. At least, it was something he was considered an expert at.

  “Feeling better?”

  “Better than I have a right to,” she said softly. “Are you too hot? I’m burning up.”

  Reyn shifted her slightly to the side. “We only live once, Maris. You have every right to feel as good as possible, every single day. Nights, too.” He nuzzled her throat.

  “Then you are not a proponent of self-abnegation?”

  “Self-abnewhatsis? It’s not in my dictionary.”

  She sighed. “Sometimes I think it’s the only word in mine.”

  “Then we must get some ink and blot it out. You can’t make other people happy without being happy first yourself.” He’d learned that the hard way. Once he’d started following his own drummer, things had fallen into place for him.

  “How is it that you’re so wise?”

  “I’m an old man. Twenty-nine today, may I remind you.”

  “Happy birthday again. I should have told Cook to bake you a cake.”

  “Why? So I could eat it all by myself?” Reyn told himself it was just as well that they not dine together. Their growing familiarity would arouse suspicion. And the more time they spent together, the harder it would be for him to leave.

  “I-I’m sorry you feel isolated. But now that we know someone is working for David, we must be extra careful.”

  He kissed h
er nose. There were a few freckles on it he’d not noticed before. “I’ll see what I can do to discover who that is.”

  She rose up on an elbow, her doubt plain. “How will you go about it?”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t say or do anything to tip my hand. Anyone new working here would be curious about the family, yes? I can ask a few questions.” He’d gotten fairly far with Aloysius last night, and there might be someone else loose-lipped on the staff.

  Maris frowned. “I don’t know. It might be dangerous.”

  “Have you no confidence in my ability to be an absentminded, yet nosy, professor?”

  “David was right. You don’t look like a scholar.”

  “Well, neither do you. You’re much too beautiful to be a bluestocking.”

  “B-beautiful?”

  “Come now, Countess. Don’t fish for more compliments. You are a stunner.”

  She hit his chest. “You are teasing me!”

  Reyn sat up. “I am not. When one looks at you—really looks at you—one cannot argue that you are not a very handsome woman.”

  “Oh. Handsome is not beautiful.” She sounded a bit disappointed.

  By God, she was fishing for compliments, and he could provide them all the rest of the afternoon if he wanted to break his own heart.

  Her body was glorious. It was criminal that it had been so neglected. Her face—freckles and all—was lovely in animation, her hair entrancing when it was mussed. How sad she did not know her own worth.

  Reyn kissed her, letting it speak much more clearly than his words ever could. She relaxed into his arms and kissed him right back. If they kept at it, he would have to have her again, and the hour was growing late. Breathless, he looked down at her flushed face. “Beautiful,” he whispered, and made himself get off the chaise and dress.

  Chapter 17

  There would be no chance meeting with his countess in the garden tonight. Reyn finished his dinner, rang for the tray to be taken away, and actually picked up one of the books Maris had put in his room for his edification. It didn’t take long for his eyes to droop and his head to swim. But if he went to bed, he’d be wide awake in the middle of the night with nothing to take his mind off his restlessness.