Society. He felt he should explain in more detail about all that at some point, but not right now.
“Mars was also the god of agriculture. In Etruria, that meant fertility as well. Ironic, is it not?”
He touched her cheek with the barest of pressure from his thumb. “Maybe not.”
“We had better hope I’m fertile so this dreadful business can come to a conclusion.”
“Dreadful business? And yet just moments ago you asked—no, told—me to kiss you.”
“That was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
He could feel her withdrawing into herself. What had she been like as a young woman, before she married a man older than her father? The earl said she’d been a rule follower. A good girl. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of frivolity or wickedness in her. She was so damned serious about doing her duty.
“What do you do for fun, Maris, when you’re not up here being long-suffering?”
“For fun?” She pronounced the word as if it was foreign. “And I am not being long-suffering. You must admit we are in an impossible situation.”
“Nothing is impossible. Your husband said you ride. What makes you laugh?”
She stared at him, her brown irises edged with blue-gray, and lit with gold around the pupils. If there was a child, he or she would likely have dark eyes.
“You know. Laughing. Ha-ha.”
“Things have not been funny around here for some time, Captain. My stepdaughter—my best friend—died, and my husband’s health was seriously affected. We’ve been busy trying to bring his life’s work to print. I haven’t had time or inclination for fun.”
“That’s a pity. I’ll have to see what I can do about that.”
“You don’t have to do anything! My life is perfectly fine the way it is.”
“If you say so.” The moment for kissing was lost, and it was all his fault. “Let’s see about these crates, eh?”
The attic had been divided into chambers, one leading to another. Some of the rooms had fireplaces, but most had been boarded up. The wooden floors were crammed with trunks, old furniture, and boxes. As she made her way through the slender path winding through them, Lady Kelby’s red dress caught on corner of a wash stand and she tugged it free.
“As I explained, the Kelby earls are expected to keep every blessed thing they’ve ever acquired, even if it needs mending,” Maris said, pointing to a broken chair. “But what we’re looking for—or to be more accurate, what I’m looking for—are the boxes with white ribbons on them. Those were shipped home from all over Europe and Asia over the last couple centuries. Henry’s father got as far as tying the ribbons on them before he passed. The Kelbys had very eclectic taste as you can tell from the furnishings throughout the house. Henry is convinced there are still hidden treasures to be found.”
“I don’t think the true treasure up here is in the boxes.” Lord, that seemed lame even to his ears. Maris Kelby was not the sort of woman whose head could be turned by a few honeyed words.
To prove it, she snorted at his attempt at flattery, shoved an ancient rocking horse out of the way and kept picking through the path, until she reached the last storage space. “We can take boxes into the workroom with a wheeled cart. Some of them are too heavy, even for you. I shan’t expect you to do much besides move things around.”
“Good.” Reyn gripped the charcoal stick, wondering what she had intended him to do with it. He’d seen enough white ribbons. He estimated there were at least sixty boxes of various sizes to go through.
That was it. He’d number them and open them in order. That would be one way to make sense of the project. He began by writing a big black 1 on a box.
“Oh! That’s a good idea. But when we begin uncrating things, let’s start with the room closest to your office. We’ll be warmer.”
“Whatever you say.” Even if it was long sleeved, she must be freezing in that flimsy silk dress, although it looked lovely on her. “Is that one of your new frocks from Madame Bernard?”
“Yes.”
“It suits you. The color is very nice.”
Her face and lips were absent the rouge she’d worn the last time he’d seen her, but she didn’t need the artificial enhancement. Her lips were rose-pink, and she’d blushed all afternoon.
“Thank you.”
There, they both got through his mild compliment.
“But perhaps not suitable for working up here. You must be cold. I won’t