Captain Durant's Countess

by Robinson, Maggie

  The whole thing sounded ridiculous to him. If they were only going to put all the things back in their dark little boxes, what really was the point? A generation from now, someone might decide to throw the lot away as a fire hazard, though perhaps their inventory might dissuade them.

  Maris moved over to a chair at the long table and handed Reyn a pair of large gardeners’ gloves. “Please wear these.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “It’s not you I’m worried about. Some of the artifacts might be too delicate to hold up against human touch.” She pulled a pair of white cotton gloves from her apron pocket and put them on.

  Reyn followed suit, then picked up the crowbar and pried box number twelve open. His first thought was there was indeed a mummy inside, for strips of fraying linen were wrapped around a giant misshapen lump. The box didn’t smell as if it contained a desiccated body, however, so he gingerly removed the lump from the box and set it before the countess. “You do the honors.”

  Her expertise was evident. Each piece of fabric was painstakingly removed with tweezers that also came out of her pocket. He wondered how she opened her birthday presents. Was she as careful or did she rip into things with abandon like a greedy child? He’d bet the former.

  Reyn was no wiser what the object was once she’d uncovered it. The heap of linen rags on the table looked more valuable. “What the blazes is that?”

  “The statue is South American, quite ancient, I wager. I believe it must have been sent here by Henry’s brother. His ship escorted the Portuguese Court to Brazil when they fled Napoleon’s invasion in 1808.”

  “David’s father?”

  Maris nodded. “Yes. He was in the Royal Navy. He died on the return voyage, poor man. He was nothing at all like his son.”

  “Why isn’t David in possession of this clay thing?”

  “If it was delivered here, it was intended for Henry. He’s interested in comparative civilizations. This is primitive vis-à-vis his Etruscan treasures from the same era. I think we’ll put it aside, although he must have seen it once.” Maris made a bed of cloth and laid the stature on top of it.

  In Reyn’s opinion it looked like a mud pie any half-wit child could make. He watched as Maris removed her gloves and wrote in one of the blank ledgers. She lined up a ruler next to the thing and squinted, then pulled out a pair of spectacles from the same capacious pocket. Reyn wondered what else could possibly be in there.

  With the glasses perched on her nose, the countess resembled a no-nonsense governess, not that he’d had one. He had been sent off to school at an early age once the local curate washed his hands of him. The curate was the first in a long line of scholars who had very clean hands after dealing with young Reynold Durant.

  Lady Kelby was spending an inordinate amount of time with the reddish-brown thing. She scratched out its description, then paused to measure and cluck over it some more. What was he supposed to do with himself between “finds?” Reyn dug his hand deeper into box number twelve, but there seemed to be nothing but more fabric wrapping . . . until he touched something hard.

  Hold on. Reyn pulled out a polished green stone the size of a robin’s egg. Its multiple facets glinted in his palm. “Maris.”

  “Umm?”

  “Look.”

  Her head was still bent over the ledger. “I need to finish with the relic first. You’ll have to learn to be patient. I’m very thorough.”

  She was that. “I think you’ll want to see this.”

  “Oh, bother. What is it?” She placed the pen in its holder and looked over her lenses. Her brown eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. He could not have asked for a more satisfactory reaction.

  “I think it’s an emerald,” Reyn said with some confidence. He’d rubbed shoulders lately with some bejeweled ladies. Sometimes the jewels were all they wore. The Marchioness of Stitham had an emerald set she wore regularly to the Reining Monarchs Society, tiara and all. But none of her stones could compete with the color, cut, and clarity of the huge rock in his hand.

  “Good Lord. It’s enormous.”

  Reyn set the stone in front of her. “It was at the bottom of the box.”

  She picked it up as if it might bite. “I suppose it really belongs to David.”

  “Why? You said the box was intended for your husband.”

  “Henry’s brother must have hidden it for transport. I’m sure he would have unpacked it himself had he lived.”

  “You don’t believe in finders keepers?”

  Her lips turned up in almost a smile. “If I did, the emerald would be yours, wouldn’t it?”

  “Not at all. I am merely the hired help.”

  An emerald that size must be worth a fortune. If Reyn had a brain and fewer scruples, he would have pocketed the thing while Maris was scribbling and no one would have been the wiser. Ginny could have lived out her days in luxury and he need not worry about ever finding a proper job.

  Maris looked at him as if she could read his thoughts. “Thank you for your honesty.”

  Reyn shrugged. “I’m an honorable chap. Mostly. What will you do with it?”

  Maris’s brows knit. “I don’t know. I don’t think I want to disturb Henry over it just yet. I’m sure he would say it was David’s and it would gall him no end to turn over so valuable an object to him.”

  “I’d like to meet this blighter David.”

  “No you wouldn’t. Although I suppose he’s due any day now. He always turns up when you want him least.”

  “Tell me about him again so I can prepare myself for the eventuality.” Reyn sat on the edge of the table watching Maris Kelby’s cheeks flush. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of her blushes.

  “He’s Henry’s heir, of course. A few years older than I. He can be very charming,” she said with bitterness.

  “Were you raised together here?”

  “Oh, no. His parents lived in one of the other Kelby properties in Hampshire. Near Portsmouth, convenient to the Admiralty. His father was at sea for much of his growing up. I supposed that’s why he doesn’t recognize boundaries. His mother spoiled him dreadfully. David thinks he’s entitled to do just as he pleases, no matter who it hurts.”

  “I gather his marriage to Lady Jane would have been unacceptable.”

  “Cousins do marry. Henry would have swallowed the pill and approved the match. But David refused, even though—” Maris broke off.

  “I’m sorry. It’s impertinent of me to ask.”

  “No. You should know. It will help you to understand why my husband is so set against David inheriting. You were right. It’s not just about the disposition of the Kelby historical artifacts and books, or even that David trifled with Jane’s affections.” Maris took a breath. “She was pregnant when she took her life. I didn’t know how desperate she was, nor did Henry. We blame ourselves for not understanding what she was going through.”

  Reyn shook his head. Something was off. “It doesn’t make sense to me. Surely David would have been guaranteed his position if he’d married the earl’s spinster daughter. Why would he refuse?”

  “Because he could. I told you, he likes to do as much damage as possible.”

  “Well, he doesn’t deserve this emerald then, does he?” Reyn picked it up and held it to the window. Even to his untrained eye, it was extraordinary.

  “No, he doesn’t.” She held out her hand. “I’ll put it under lock and key until we decide what we should do.”

  Reyn dropped the bauble onto her palm. “We?”

  She blushed again. “If it wasn’t for you rooting around in the box, I’d never know it was there, would I?” She put the jewel in her apron pocket, picked up the pen again and set back to work.

  Most women would have been dazzled by the green stone, placing it like an imaginary ring on their finger, but not Maris Kelby. She returned to her measuring and analyzing, and it was a good ten minutes before she finished with the pre-Columbian lump. Reyn bided his time with a stroll to the wind
ow. The gardeners had moved to a different section of plantings and were inserting something into the ground rather than pulling something up.

  There was a career for him. Of course he knew nothing about plants whatsoever, but it was good honest labor and out of doors instead of being shut up in grim book-lined rooms. Fresh air. Sunshine. Reyn didn’t mind the rain, either. His brawn would come in handy and he knew his way around a shovel, having dug a trench or two in his time. Ginny might think it a comedown for him, but once he explained his difficulties to her—

  Damn. He’d never remember all the Latin names of herbs and flowers. Maybe he wouldn’t need to. He wasn’t too proud. He could be the under gardener.

  Reyn realized he didn’t hear the pen scratching behind him anymore and turned. Maris Kelby smiled up at him, and he felt his heart turn over just a little.

  “You seemed so lost in thought I didn’t want to tell you I’m ready for the next box.”

  “Forgive me for shirking, my lady.” He strode across the room and lifted up box number six. If there was a gap between their stations, it would be a yawning cavern if he became an under gardener. At least now he was an ex-military officer, the son of a gentleman.

  And he wasn’t a thief. He could have pocketed the emerald so easily.

  The next two boxes held no more jewels or treasures of any kind. Reyn poked at the fire while Maris catalogued the odd assortment of objects that had caught Kelby eyes over the years. She explained what she was doing, but Reyn could work up no interest over chipped pottery and blackened candlesticks. When she was done and the items rejected, Reyn rewrapped everything but a Chinese plate and put it all back in the boxes. He walked the length of the attic returning the crates to their stack and brought a few more to the workroom.

  Maris was tucking an errant brown curl back under her cap and had managed to smudge some ink on her cheek. Her hands and her cotton gloves were no longer white, and her spectacles had migrated to the end of her nose.

  Reyn couldn’t help himself. He pulled them off, disentangling her cap and hair. “It’s time for a break, Lady Kelby.”

  “We’ve only gone through three boxes!” Maris objected.

  “Yes, and you’ve filled up half a ledger. You’ll get eyestrain. Your fingers must be numb, aye? And I’m bored to death standing around watching you work.”

  “Well, now that you’ve observed the procedure, perhaps you could be trusted to work on a box of your own.”

  Not bloody likely. “I have a better idea. It’s time for our other task.”

  “Right n-now?”

  She should not look quite so appealing. Her cap was askew, her face dirty. Reyn had been fighting an erection for half an hour.

  Well, that’s what he was there for, wasn’t it?

  He took her grimy fingers in his hand. “Now. The more often we have relations, the better your chances are for conceiving.” He hoped he was sounding reasonable, though he felt anything but.

  Something was wrong with him . . . beyond the usual. Being shut up with Lady Kelby all morning had made him lose what little concentration he had. He’d have to take up whittling or something while she worked. He was going mad.

  “I . . . there is a chaise behind the screen.”

  He smiled down at her. “I know.” He’d noticed it yesterday as he was organizing boxes. He found the embroidered pillowcases a charming touch.

  “We’re just going to get up and—” Her blush deepened.

  “Oh, there will be some preliminaries, never fear. I’m not going to fall on you like some crazed animal.” He hoped.

  Her hand was still in his and he bent to kiss it. She trembled a little. How gratifying that it was sensitive to his touch. All he had to do was make sure the rest of her was.

  Chapter 13

  Maris had wanted to remain clothed, but had been overruled. Oddly enough, she was still wearing her garters, stockings, and one shoe. The rest of her clothes—the cap, the pinafore, the sensible brown dress, her petticoat, corset, and chemise—had been removed layer by layer.

  Reynold Durant had proved very efficient in her undressing, folding each item with the precision of the best lady’s maid, whispering over her skin until she thought she would burst with impatience. Then there had been slow kisses. Everywhere. He had repeated what he’d done on the work table, but she had been sprawled in comfort on the chaise, dazed and drenched as he licked her as if she were the tastiest sweet.

  He had capped that delicious assault with a blissful, blunt entry into her body, resulting in a particularly effervescent kick on her part that resulted in the loss of the other shoe. Losing her footwear around the man was becoming a dangerous habit.

  Losing her wits, as well. He had made her press her own fingers between them to stroke herself to sharp bliss as he surged inside her.

  Maris was still beneath him, heart beating erratically. She could not imagine going back to the table and working. Pretending all was normal. Reynold Durant had ignited something inside her she hadn’t known existed.

  She’d received some pleasure in the past, and had been curious about receiving more. Hence her miserable affair with David. But she really hadn’t had a clue.

  She wasn’t about to embark on a sonnet, for this wasn’t love. However, she liked Captain Durant—Reyn, she reminded herself— very much. He had a sense of humor at work and was unfailingly solicitous of her when he joined with her at play. Maris felt treasured for the first time in her life. Henry had always been indulgent, more like a father than a lover, though she knew he cared for her as much as he was able. David had simply used her for his own amusement—to thumb his nose at his uncle and line his pockets with Maris’s pin money.

  Perhaps if she gave him the emerald he would leave her alone for good.

  “What is it? That was not a sigh of satisfaction. Are you well?” Reyn lifted himself up and stared down at her, and Maris missed his warmth immediately.

  The puckered starburst on his shoulder caught her attention and she touched it lightly. “You say this hurts when it rains?”

  “And snows. You’re changing the subject. What’s wrong? I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

  Maris felt the heat in her cheeks. He had been splendidly rough. And gentle too. “You were perfect. Must I praise your performance like a schoolmistress? You must know you are the schoolmaster here.”

  Reyn grinned. “It never does a fellow any harm to hear how content he’s made his lady.”

  “I am content. Content as I can be under the circumstances.”

  “That’s all right, then.” He rolled to the wall and took Maris with him. She found herself snuggling against him, an entirely unfamiliar, yet cozy, position. It was what most post-coupling couples did, wasn’t it? She felt no urgency whatever to jump off the chaise and get dressed and go back to the mountain of boxes. In fact, she didn’t believe she could stand up at the moment.

  “So what was that somber sigh about?”

  “You never give up, do you?”

  “Oh, I’ve given up on any number of things. Just ask the real schoolmasters. Solving problems is not my forte. I’ll make an exception for you, though.” He kissed her nose. How absurd. But it was rather sweet all the same.

  “I don’t want to spoil what we have between us right now. It doesn’t matter.”

  He pulled her closer. “Now, you’ve done it. My sister Ginny has a terrier, did I tell you? His name is Rufus. He has a typical terrier’s tenacity, but the dog cannot hold a candle to me when it comes to ferreting out secrets.”

  “Can a dog actually ferret? That doesn’t seem right. They are two different species, surely.” How silly she was being, but there was something about talking to this man that called for levity.

  “Don’t confound this conversation with science. I might get bored to death and then you’d have to dispose of my body in one of those trunks.”

  “I don’t think I could manage it. You are far too . . . large.”

  He gave her a naughty
wink. “Said the girl to the soldier. Thank you, madam.”

  “Oh! I was referring to your height, you wretched man.”

  He was still large, even in repose. From a purely artistic standpoint, Reynold Durant was exquisitely sculpted.

  “So, tell me what is wrong. Perhaps I can help.”

  “There’s nothing wrong. I was just breathing. Did you find my slippers? I could not find them in the dark last night.”

  “Ah, yes. I should have told you and saved you some worry. I hid them in my saddlebag. None of the servants will be the wiser. I should tell you, I’m not used to such coddling. A veritable parade of footmen and maids came in this morning with breakfast and oceans of hot water and fresh sheets. I’ll be spoiled before this is over. Ruined for my humdrum life.”

  Maris was afraid he was ruining her too. She disentangled herself from his arms and felt her hairpins slip down her back as she sat up. “Bother.”

  Reyn caught a curl as it tumbled from her brow. “You have lovely hair.”

  “It’s nothing special, just brown.”

  “It’s soft. And smells like roses.” He tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear.

  She would have to remember to bring up a brush and comb to the attics so she could make herself presentable after their interludes. Maris supposed some disorder was inevitable moving and unpacking boxes, but she suspected her recent activities would be plain to anyone who had two eyes.

  She felt hot.

  She felt happy.

  “You’d better help me dress. It must be time for luncheon.” She swung her feet to the chilly floor and reached for her chemise. “You can ring for something to eat from your room. I’ll meet you back up here in two hours so we can work a little while longer before we finish for the day. The light won’t hold forever.” She pulled the chemise over her head and struggled with the buttons.

  Reyn noticed, then took over the job. Somehow he got his own large hands to behave over the tiny bits of bone and fabric far better than she. “Will you be joining the earl?”