Captain Durant's Countess - By Maggie Robinson Page 0,28
dear. Would you do us the honor of pouring our tea? Or would you like another whiskey, Captain Durant?”
“No thank you, my lord. Good afternoon, Lady Kelby.”
The captain seemed subdued, which was a good thing. Kelby Hall could have an intimidating effect on the most well-connected visitor, and by Captain Durant’s own account, he was a nobody. Maris sat on the tufted leather sofa in the center of the room and waited for the maid and footman to arrange the tea table in front of it. Once they left, the men crossed the room, Henry leaning heavily on his stick as he made his way to her. Maris wondered where his bath chair was. He had been using it more and more of late, complaining that every time he took a step he could hear his knees and ankles crack like rifle fire. No doubt he didn’t want to appear at a disadvantage before Captain Durant. Henry had once been a vigorous man, and it was difficult for him to accept his limitations. When she had been a little girl, he’d been very dashing.
She prepared Henry’s cup as Captain Durant took the seat to her right. That might have been rude to her guest, but it was her foolish way of letting him know that her husband would always come first, no matter what lay ahead between them. “How do you take your tea, Captain?” she asked, once she had given Henry a plate of small sandwiches and biscuits.
“Just a bit of sugar, my lady.”
Maris’s hand shook only a little as she dropped a lump into the captain’s cup. She’d skip the sugar in her own. The tongs felt clumsy between her fingers today.
Durant helped himself to a piece of fruitcake as she sat back and swallowed a mouthful of strong India tea. Henry had already relegated his untouched plate to the table next to him. She would not nag at him, but hoped he would do justice to their dinner later on.
“Your trip to Surrey was uneventful, Captain?” she asked politely.
“Quite. I stopped to see my sister yesterday and stayed the night.”
“And she is improving?”
“That is my fondest wish, though it’s too soon to tell. I found her in good spirits, at any rate, entertaining the vicar. I begin to think the man does not simply visit each Sunday out of concern for her immortal soul.”
Maris smiled a little at the captain’s grimace. “You suspect a romance then?”
“I do after yesterday. Perhaps I was just too blind to see it before.” Durant did not look especially pleased at the prospect of having a man of the cloth as a brother-in-law. Little wonder, after his most recent activities and what he was about to embark upon.
“I wish your sister every happiness. I’m sure she deserves it.” Maris examined the bottom of her cup, wishing she could interpret the dregs as some gypsies did. What did her future hold, and how quickly could she get through this awkward present?
Well, there was always the weather, the last refuge of conversational inanity. “Today was ideal for traveling on horseback. December travel can be so chancy.” Maris wished Henry would say something, anything.
His black gaze flicked over his tea cup from her to the captain, but he was maddeningly quiet.
“It was very pleasant. The countryside hereabouts is delightful.” Durant turned to Kelby. “Do you ride, my lord?”
Henry set his cup down. “On occasion. Not enough to suit me, but my wife worries. I admit my stamina is not what it once was. Maris is quite a good horsewoman. I taught her myself when she was just a little bit of a thing. Taught her and Jane, though Maris took to the saddle far better than my daughter. Perhaps you both should spend some time together exploring the area before the snow flies.”
By God, Henry is playing matchmaker. Maris couldn’t bear it. “We won’t have time for that, Henry. What about the inventory?” She charged the word with the meaning they had agreed upon, but Henry deliberately ignored it.
“I’ve waited a lifetime to see what’s up there. A few hours in Captain Durant’s company in the fresh air won’t hurt you, my dear. Winter will come, and then you’ll be shut up indoors. You permit yourself so few amusements.”
“I am perfectly amused by helping you, Henry.”
“And what sort of life is that for a young woman, holed up within these four walls, day in, day out?”
“I’m hardly a young woman anymore,” Maris muttered.