in your dotage. And a very handsome woman, don’t you think, Captain Durant?”
“Henry!” His name came out as a wild plea. For something. A stop to the discussion, for sure. Maris’s cheeks were so hot they matched her dress. It was a mistake to wear it. To show off. Everything was a horrible, horrible mistake.
“You are a fortunate man, Lord Kelby,” Durant said, not falling into Henry’s trap. No matter what he said, he couldn’t win that disastrous game.
“Maris, why don’t you show the captain the attics after tea? You may as well get started today while there is still light.”
“T-today?” Maris had not expected to begin today. Tomorrow perhaps. Or next week.
Or never.
“Just show the captain around a little. You need do no more than that today, Maris,” Henry said, his tone gentle.
“I . . . I . . . Oh blast it, Henry! This is . . . this is all so awful!”
Henry’s dark eyes held steady and clear. “I know, love. But it’s the only way. We agreed.”
Indeed, she had, desperate to ease his agitation over David. But now that she was minutes away from being shoved at Captain Durant, she found she could not screw up her courage. Her heart was inextricably bound to her husband, whom she’d loved ever since she was a little girl.
She didn’t want flattery and flummery. She’d had that from David in the short weeks she’d lost her head and embarked on the affair with him. How could she ever manage to become intimate with this stranger, no matter how charming and handsome he was?
“I hear some ladies are instructed to think of England,” Captain Durant said in a quiet voice. “In your case, think of the Kelby Collection. Kelby Hall. Generations of mad old earls—present company excepted, of course—bringing home the loot for future generations to marvel over. Let’s go up and see what’s in those boxes, Lady Kelby. You may be pleasantly surprised.” He fished a handkerchief out of his pocket. “Don’t cry, please. I cannot guard myself against a woman’s tears.”
Maris sniffed and wiped her cheeks. “I-I’m sorry I’m such a coward,” she said to her husband. To them both, really.
“Nonsense, my dear. You are the bravest woman and best wife in England. I quite like the captain’s advice. We will not speak of this arrangement any further. I’m satisfied I picked the right man for the job, Maris, and you needn’t tell me the details of what transpires between you. In fact, I forbid you to. I find I’m much more possessive than I expected to be, ridiculous as that may be when I’m the architect of this plan. I do wish to be informed, however, if you come across some artifact you think might be important.”
“O-of course.” As if she could ever tell Henry . . .
“I will see you at dinner, Maris. Captain, I’ve instructed the staff to take your meals to your suite. I hope you’re not offended, but things are bound to become only more peculiar the longer you stay here. I thought for all our sakes we would keep unnecessary fraternization to a minimum.”
“I understand, my lord. I’m only an employee, after all.” There was no trace of emotion in Durant’s voice, but Maris thought he struggled to keep his expressive face neutral.
“Good man.” Henry pushed himself up from his chair. “I’m back to work. I suggest you both do the same.” And just like that, he hobbled to his desk and Maris and the captain were dismissed.
Maris returned her cup and saucer to the tea cart. “Shall we begin, Captain?”
“I’m ready when you are.”
Maris was not ready. Might never be ready. But she picked up her wine-colored skirts and moved swiftly down the central corridor running the length of Kelby Hall, taking the narrow staircase at the end that led to Captain Durant’s rooms. The captain followed at a respectful distance.
She wondered what he was thinking? What would he do when they climbed that final set of stairs?
She had ordered the whole of the attics swept and all the windows washed when she’d come back from London. In one of the chambers near the entry, cast-off furniture had been arranged into an office area, a long table serving as a makeshift desk with two sturdy chairs brought up from below. There were inkpots and reams of paper. A row of well-thumbed history books. Sets of tools and rags and cleaning solvents. A spirit stove for making tea. The chaise behind a