He held her close, wishing the earlier glow of the evening would return. Someone should run David Kelby through and spare them all his machinations.
“I’m sorry I’m such a bundle of nerves. But I’ve had a month to think on all the things that might go wrong. I never expected to find you here, Reyn, and I don’t think I can give you up again.”
“I won’t let you give me up. We’ll figure something out, I promise.” He was a selfish bastard.
But the best thing he could do for the Countess of Kelby would be to drive her home to Hazel Grange and never see her again.
Reyn couldn’t do it. He needed to see her grow large with their child, touch her when she came apart, listen to her worries, and dispatch them as best he could. He hoped he was man enough to manage.
He kissed her forehead. “Let me walk you to the house.”
“Someone might see.”
“They’re all asleep. There was a time when Ginny spent some restless nights, but the danger seems to have passed.”
Maris studied his face. “You took Henry’s job for your sister, and now she’s in health. Are you ever sorry?”
“That I met and fell in love with you? Don’t be ridiculous. Things may not be easy for us right now, but they’ll come about in the end.”
“I wish I could believe that. I don’t see how.”
He didn’t have the first idea either, but wouldn’t let that stop him. “Trust me.”
She smiled. “I do. I hadn’t planned to, either.”
“I remember, and who could blame you? We met under rather inauspicious beginnings. But you’ve improved me, Countess. Who knows? You might even teach me to read at that.”
“I’ll write to Miss Holley tomorrow.”
“Fine.” He’d do whatever took her mind off their troubles. He’d subject himself to the schoolroom again and stand on his head if that’s what it took to distract her. “Off with you then. Mind the cobblestones. I don’t want you stubbing one of your pretty toes.”
“Good night, Reyn.” She stood on those toes to kiss him—a kiss laced with restraint, mindful that it would not take much for him to get her down on his pallet again.
Reyn stood at the stable door as she disappeared through the misty yard and into the side door. The house was in total darkness, and he hoped her toes would be safe all the way up the stairs and to her room.
Bloody hell. He should consult a solicitor; see what rights David Kelby might have over Maris’s child. It had never once occurred to him that the blighter would have a say in anything. But that would arouse suspicion, and that was the last thing Reyn wanted to do.
He sat back down on the crumpled blankets, Maris’s scent overcoming horse and hay. He had told her he loved her, and apart from a flick of her long eyelashes, she’d said nothing.
She wanted him. But could she love him? Reyn almost didn’t care. It would be enough to have her nearby.
Crumbs. With luck and God’s good grace he’d get the whole cake and icing, too.
Breakfast had gone just as it ought, with Maris and Reyn behaving civilized and composed. Toast was crunched, coffee drunk, eggs and bacon consumed over polite conversation, Ginny considerably brighter now that he was not being a rude bastard. Reyn realized he’d been less than a gentleman over dinner, and made certain he behaved himself. No one would guess from his deportment that a few hours earlier he and Maris had rolled around on the floor of his office giving each other unbridled joy.
He intended to drop Maris at her home and continue on to Shere, and they left early, heavy moisture still on the leaves and grass. In less than twenty minutes, Reyn had rolled through the posts at Hazel Grange. Maris’s house sat on a little rise, square and neat. As soon as his carriage was spotted on the drive, Stephen Prall lumbered out from her stable and one of the footmen—bearing his own name now—stepped down from the portico.
“Good morning, Lady Kelby. We’re so glad you’ve returned safe and sound.”
“I’m so sorry to give you all worry, Phillip. What with the storm, Miss Durant insisted I stay the night, and the captain was kind enough to drive me back.”
“You have a visitor, my lady. The Earl of Kelby arrived just after you left yesterday. Told him you were dining with the neighbors. We put him in the blue room when he wouldn’t leave. He was in a temper to not find you home.”
Maris turned white. Reyn could do nothing to calm her that would not arouse suspicion.
“I hope he did not give you a lot of trouble,” Maris said faintly.
“No more than he ever did, my lady. He did get into the best port. Me and Aloysius figured it might be the best way to disarm him.”
“W-where is he now?”
“Still abed, my lady. I reckon he’s got a head on him this morning.”
Maris turned to Reyn. “You’d better go.”
“I’m not going to leave you alone with that villain.”
Maris squeezed his hand as he helped her descend from the carriage. “But you must! He knows I spent the night at Merrywood, but may not even know it is you who lives there. If he sees us together, it will only fuel his ire.”
“You weren’t expecting him?”
“Of course not! David always comes and goes as he pleases. Somehow he thinks I will be waiting like a docile schoolgirl so he can scold and bully me.” She tried to smile and waggled a finger at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll stand up for myself and send him packing soon enough after a decent breakfast. At least he has no need to bleed me for money any more. The Kelby coffers are at his disposal, even if the title is in limbo. Maybe you can get a message to Mr. Swift to pay me a visit this morning. He seemed to annoy David quite a lot when they met before.”
“I think I should stay,” Reyn said, unable to overcome the stubborn feeling that he should remain by Maris’s side. What if Kelby tried to hurt her with something other than his tongue? Reyn had never been able to shake the feeling that somehow the man was responsible for the earl’s death that dark night, though he would never confess his misgivings to Maris. She didn’t need to be frightened any more than she was already.
According to the doctor, there had been no signs of foul play. But one didn’t have to raise a fist to a sick old man when one could verbally goad him beyond bearing. Reyn would put nothing past David Kelby.
He had blackmailed Maris for years, keeping her off balance, destroying her peace of mind, and casting a dark shadow on the last years she’d had with her husband. Maris had made a terrible mistake ever trusting him, but her punishment was far more severe than her crime.
“I’m staying.”
“You must not!” If possible, she was even paler than she’d been when the footman Phillip told her of her uninvited guest.
“I’m headed for your stables, Countess. Isn’t it true that you are looking to acquire more horses? I’m particular about where I sell my stock. Call me peculiar, even. I think I’ll just inspect your accommodations. If you have need of me, you know where to find me.”
“Oh, Reyn.” She spoke softly enough that Phillip and Stephen wouldn’t hear her. “All right. But I think it’s unnecessary.”
“I do hope so. You there! Stephen, isn’t it?” Reyn called to the man who held the carriage horse still. “I’m going to take a look at the countess’s stables. She’s thinking of making some renovations before she purchases some new horses and wants my opinion. Shall we have a look?”
Maris shot him a warning glance, and then disappeared up the steps.
Reyn spent the next quarter hour poking into every corner of every box, asking what he hoped were pertinent questions of Stephen when his mind was really on Maris and whatever indignities David Kelby planned for her. He struggled to keep the bees from buzzing too loudly in his head, but it was a losing battle. When it was obvious that his distraction was alarming the groom, Reyn shrugged with a grin, excused himself, and headed to the house.
He was just being neighborly, he assured himself. Reporting his findings. Bidding
the countess good-bye after his inspection. It would be the height of rudeness just to wander off, wouldn’t it?
Phillip admitted him and took his hat, and with a friendly wink, Aloysius appeared as well. The elaborate green Kelby livery and towering wigs had been replaced with simpler suits and their own shorn heads.
“Is Kelby up?”
“Aye, sir. He and the countess are in the breakfast room.”
“Take me there, Aloysius.” Maris wouldn’t like it, but these two young footmen, no matter how devoted to their countess, were not equal to dealing with a man like David Kelby.
Maris’s tea cup clattered to its saucer when Aloysius announced him.
“C-Captain Durant! I expected you to be on your way to Shere by now.”
Reyn bowed deeply. “My apologies, my lady. I took the opportunity to check out your stables as we discussed, but I see I’ve come at an inopportune time. Good morning, Mr. Kelby.”
“That’s ‘my lord’ to you, Durant. What is he doing here?”
Kelby was as bleached of color as Maris, his eyes bloodshot. Reyn noted there was nothing on his plate but plain toast, though the heavy scent of kippers, kidneys, and eggs wafted in the air. Maris’s cook was doing her best to unsettle the earl’s stomach.
“It’s the most amazing thing, Kelby,” Reyn said smoothly. “I came into an absolute gem of a legacy and have been able to leave the unprofitable academic arena behind. I purchased the horse farm that abuts the countess’s west boundary last winter. Such a small world, isn’t it? One could have knocked me down with a feather to discover that Lady Kelby was my new neighbor. She has consulted me on the purchase of some horses and the expansion of her stable block and I’ve come to give her my opinion.”
“Know about horses as well as antiquities? Aren’t you the Renaissance man,” Kelby mocked.
“I do hope so. My experience in the army has given me insight in what to look for in one’s mounts. I should be happy to give you the benefit of my expertise if you should desire it.”
Kelby’s mouth twisted in distaste. “I’m perfectly satisfied with my horseflesh. My uncle’s stable is one of the finest in Surrey.”
“Yes, I had occasion to note that during my brief stay at Kelby Hall. What brings you to Hazel Grange?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I have a care for my aunt’s welfare.” Kelby tore off a corner of his toast, probably wishing he could do the same to Reyn’s head.
Across the table, Maris rolled her eyes but had not spoken again since she’d greeted Reyn when he entered the room.
“Very kind of you, I’m sure. All of her neighbors naturally hold her in the highest esteem, and we all care for her welfare. One might say we all stick together in our little corner of the world. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. I’m sure you know what it’s like in a small village. The Countess is the center of attention at present.”
As far as Reyn knew, no one had laid eyes on the elusive countess except for a handful of people, though it was true she was the subject of gossip. Whether the good people of Shere would lift a finger for her was a matter of conjecture, but he gave them the benefit of the doubt. He pictured the villagers rising up with pitchforks to throw David Kelby flat on his arse.
“I’m sorry if we gave you a fright yesterday,” Reyn continued. “Lady Kelby was quite safe. As you know, the storm came on so quickly and was so dreadful my sister insisted the countess spend the night at Merrywood.”
Kelby’s eyes narrowed. “And where were you, Captain?”
“In the barns, I’m afraid. One of the horses is especially sensitive to noise and it was all I could do to calm him down. What a show he put on. I quite thought I might be trampled to death. I have great hope for Brutus as a stud, but he would have made a miserable army charger. My old Phantom holds him in complete contempt.”
Reyn watched Kelby’s eyes glaze over as he recited his horses’ virtues and deficiencies. Best if the man thought Reyn was too preoccupied with his animals to even notice that Maris Kelby was a woman. “Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Countess, your servant. You know you may depend upon me and my sister Virginia should any difficulty of any nature whatsoever arise. Just send us word. We’ll talk another time. I’ll tell Mr. Swift that you’re desirous of his company this morning when I see him. Good day to you, Mr.—Lord Kelby.”
Reyn hoped he’d given the impression of a friendly neighbor, a consummate gentleman. But he also wished to convey to Kelby that the countess was not isolated. She had champions, even if they were young servants, a country parson, and a faux scholar and his sister.
“Keep an eye on Kelby,” Reyn said to Aloysius as he left. “I have an odd feeling about the man. I don’t think he wishes the countess well.”
“Of course, sir! He threw me out of the breakfast room, he did, saying he had private matters to discuss with her ladyship. But I’ve been right outside, just in case. We remember what he was like, always sneaking around Kelby Hall. He’s not fit to fill the old earl’s shoes. All of us hope the countess has a fine bonny son. That’ll fix him.”
Or make their problems worse.
Chapter 29
Maris had bitten her cheek raw as Reyn ruffled David’s feathers with his neighborly attentions. She couldn’t really be angry with him for disregarding her wishes and coming into the house. Like some protective sheepdog, he’d made it very clear to David that she was not alone, even if he was stretching the truth by miles. She was as yet unacquainted with any of her neighbors save those at Merrywood.
“What a bore he is,” David drawled once Reyn left.
Maris buttered a piece of toast she did not want. Her stomach was still in knots. “Do you think so? He does seem very devoted to his horses. I do not know him very well, but his sister has been all that is kind since I moved here last month.”
“Jumped-up climbers, no doubt. And he’s in trade.”
“Horse breeding is perfectly respectable for a gentleman. And I believe they are in some way connected to the Marquess of Wayneflete, although they do not speak of it.” Henry had done an extensive family tree for Reynold Durant to make sure there would be a drop of bluish blood, no matter how diluted, in any future Earl of Kelby.
David snorted. “Wayneflete is as far up River Tick as one can go without drowning.”
“Thank goodness one cannot be judged by the behavior of one’s relations,” Maris said with deceptive sweetness. “Let’s get to the point, David. Why are you here again so soon?”
“I thought you might be missing me.”
Maris gave an unladylike snort. “Cut line, David. Is it money? Mr. Woodley has assured me you are receiving a most generous allowance while we wait.” Involuntarily, she placed a palm across her stomach. “You can’t have run through it already.”
“Oh can’t I have?” David muttered. “But it’s not about money. This time.” He shifted in his seat, radiating discomfort. Maris had never seen him when he was not in perfect control of his emotions, not that he’d ever displayed anything but pique and cunning heretofore. What could have caused this sudden glimpse into his humanity? Who would have thought he even had humanity?
She found she was curious. “I’m listening.”
“I don’t quite know where to begin.”
Maris stopped herself from saying “the beginning.” She decided not to make anything easier for the man who had brought such heartbreak to the house of Kelby.
The silence stretched. Maris added jam to her uneaten toast. Finally David sighed.
“There is a woman, you see.”
There would be. David had left a trail of broken hearts behind him all his life. Maris looked up from her plate expectantly.
“She may come to see you.”
“See me? Whatever for?” Maris did not relish acquaintance with one of David’s castoffs, even if she did have some sympathy for the woman’s plight.
“Well, here’s the thing. I’ve explained the bloody circumstances about
the bloody earldom to her, but she doesn’t believe me.”
“Imagine that. Someone finds you untruthful.”
“Don’t take such pleasure in my ruin. The woman has her hooks in me and I cannot see a way out.”
He did look hunted, less ruddy and cocky. And could it be his russet hair was thinning just a little? “Have you made her a promise of marriage?”
“Not lately.” He sounded nearly . . . amused.
“I fail to see what I can do to help you, David. Not that I want to. Mr. Woodley can explain as well as I our current situation. If she is suing you for breach of promise, he is the man to talk to.”
“I’m making a muddle of this, aren’t I? Here’s the thing—when I was barely one and twenty, I made the greatest mistake of my life. And she has the proof.”
Maris tried to remember when David was a young buck. He’d never paid her any attention during his visits to Kelby Hall, not that she’d wanted him to. “What are you talking about?”
“This woman claims she is my wife. Well, to be fair, she is my wife. I was of age at the time and we were married in church by her father, who certainly gave his permission.”
Maris suppressed a burble of laughter. “You married a parson’s daughter?” Incredible. Whatever she had been expecting, it was not this.
“It was not my choice, I assure you. She was pregnant, and the parson had a way with pistols. For a man of peace, he had a most violent streak when it came to Catherine. I offered them money, but they would not be swayed. Marriage it had to be if I valued my hide.”
David fiddled with his unused knife waiting for Maris to speak. When she found she could not think of a thing to say—surely “Congratulations” came too late—he went on. “So you see now why I couldn’t marry Jane two years ago when she found herself in the same predicament. Bigamy is a crime, what? Ironic that if I’d only waited to dip my wick in a while, all my problems would have been solved. Marriage to my sweet, stuttering little cousin, pots of money, the earldom secured.”
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