They were strong and her one true beauty, with long, slender fingers and smooth white skin. She kept them covered with white cotton gloves when she worked with her artifacts, and kid and silk when she did not. Maris decided she’d buy new gloves to go with her new dresses, too.
She called to her maid Betsy and they set out for Madame Millet’s, only to find the shop taken over by a wine merchant. It truly has been a long time, Maris thought ruefully. She was about to give up and go back to the hotel when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned at the audacity, but her sharp retort died upon her lips.
“Good afternoon, Lady Kelby. It’s a lovely day for shopping, is it not?” Captain Durant held up several parcels tied with string. Maris could only hope one of them contained a suitable waistcoat.
She was not prepared to see him again quite so soon. He was bare-headed, his black hair gleaming like a crow’s wing in the bright December sunshine. Soberly dressed, apart from the lack of a hat, he looked reasonably respectable, nothing like the wicked crop-wielding man she had first seen the day before yesterday.
“I-I w-wouldn’t know.” Damn, the man always made her stutter. It was a good thing they would have to do very little talking to each other. If she could insist he keep his eyes closed when they fornicated, she would ask him to do the same with his mouth. She didn’t need to hear flattering falsehoods from him.
Or be kissed. Really, there was no need for kissing at all.
“The d-dress shop I hoped to patronize seems to have d-disappeared,” she continued, feeling flustered. “And g-good afternoon, sir.” She sounded like her poor stepdaughter Jane, who had been unable to string a sentence together without tripping over her tongue. A vow of silence in Captain Durant’s presence was definitely in order.
“Madame Millet’s? She moved to a larger establishment about six months ago. But you don’t want to go there.”
“I don’t?”
“You don’t. She dresses nothing but dowds and is quite de trop amongst those in the know.”
“If she’s so awful, why did she have to expand the size of her shop?” Maris asked, swallowing the insult. Madame Millet had made the perfectly serviceable dress and matching spencer she was wearing. Six years ago, but still. The stitching had held fast and the trimmings looked fresh enough to her eyes.
“There are ever so many more dowds in England than there should be, I suppose. But you don’t have to be one of them, Lady Kelby. Allow me to escort you to a much better dressmaker. It’s not far.”
How on earth would he know? Patsy and the other women he’d dealt with at the Reining Monarch Society were not wearing any clothes at all as far as Maris could see.
“Do you consider yourself an expert on ladies’ attire as well as antiquities, Captain Durant?” It was best to convince Betsy that Durant was who they would say he was.
“Not especially. You know my first love is all that old historical rubbish, as some might say,” the captain replied, taking the hint. “But I had a few things made up for my sister from Madame Bernard. She was very sympathetic and not too expensive. Although I don’t suppose cost matters much to the Countess of Kelby. You seem willing to pay top dollar for what you want.”
“Not in front of my maid,” Maris murmured, taking the captain’s proffered arm and putting some distance between them and Betsy. “You cannot say such vulgar things when you come to Kelby Hall. You’ll arouse suspicion.”
“Well, I presume you’ll tell people you hired me to muck out your attics. No man works for free.”
“You know nothing of those who are obsessed with history. Some would pay us to get a chance to go through the Kelby Collection.” Henry had been turning away supplicants for years.
“You’re right. I know nothing. That might be a bit of a drawback.”
“I can give you some books. You can read up a little, drop a phrase or two, and the staff should be satisfied.” Maris was quite pleased that she had managed the conversation without stumbling over her words. She was always safe talking about the Kelby Collection.
Captain Durant said nothing for over half a block, but then rounded the corner and paused at a shop window. A collection of small silver objects glittered in an amazing display of craftsmanship. Even Maris, who,