dozens of horses . . . and children, too.
Bah. What was he doing, dreaming? She couldn’t let an Earl of Kelby grow up so far from his birthright, even if Kelby Hall was just some twenty miles away. And he was not fit to be any sort of “stepfather” for such an exalted young personage.
Reyn gripped the reins in frustration, ruing the day he’d ever seen that advertisement in The London List. He was tied up in knots, longing for what he could not have. Timing was everything, and he and Maris were its victims. If they had met a mere few months later, once she was safely widowed and settling into Hazel Grange . . . but then he certainly would not be Merrywood’s owner. He’d be in London, wasting his life away, doing one damn stupid thing after the next and wondering where his next meal was coming from. Staying up all night at the tables, or bedding some other man’s willing wife. He never would have crossed paths with the virtuous Countess of Kelby.
And she would not be bearing his child.
Reyn pulled up to the columned portico of Hazel Grange. Before the groom could rush to hold the horses, Maris stepped out and down the steps. She was wearing one of Madame Bernard’s creations, a black moiré that shimmered midnight blue and purple in the sunlight, a gauzy shawl clinging to her shoulders. The hat Reyn had selected, a little crown of iridescent black feathers, was perched on her head like a wayward bird. She took his breath away.
“Good afternoon, Captain Durant.”
Reyn wished the old gig was a fairy-tale glass carriage, but at least the seat was newly upholstered and clean. Reyn had stuffed horsehair and pounded the nails in himself after securing a piece of leather in Shere once he knew he would be transporting Maris.
“Good afternoon, my lady.” He jumped down and jostled around the groom to help Maris into the conveyance.
“It is a lovely one, is it not? Almost hot.”
Too hot for May, and sticky besides. His shoulder ached like the devil, a harbinger of rain to come. Reyn hoped all this weather talk was for the benefit of the boy who stood on Hazel Grange’s pea stone drive. They would have to find even more banal things to say over dinner and should not exhaust all of them on the ride to Merrywood.
“Indeed, lovely. My sister has been in a tizzy all day preparing for you.”
“I do hope she’d not gone to a lot of trouble,” Maris said, frowning. “I’m perfectly satisfied with the simplest things.”
“So I told her, but she does not listen to me very often.”
Maris adjusted her lightweight shawl. “How goes the wooing with the vicar?”
“You may see for yourself. Mr. Swift is also our supper guest. I hope you do not object. I know you do not relish company at this time.” Reyn had argued with Ginny over the invitation, but somehow she’d prevailed.
“He seems a most unobjectionable young man. I think David must have frightened him off, though. He’s not come to see me since that first visit.”
Reyn ground his teeth. “Has David bothered you again?”
“Only by the post. I don’t open his letters, but toss them in the fire. There’s a great deal of satisfaction to be had watching the flames, and it’s most unlikely he’s enclosing bank notes.”
Reyn loved the hat. Maris’s profile was fully visible to him and he saw the slight curve of her lips.
“I meant what I said, Maris. I will talk to him for you.”
She turned to him, feathers fluttering as the gig rolled on the narrow lane that connected their properties. “How could you explain your protective interest, Reyn? I went through a great drama swearing you meant nothing to me. Denying we even spoke beyond the merest passing politeness at Kelby Hall. It will be odd enough if he discovers we are neighbors.” She bit a lip. “You never should have come for me. I was wrong to accept the supper invitation in the first place.”
“One does have to eat sometime,” Reyn said, trying to tease her out of her funk.
“I have a perfectly good cook of my own.”
Damn it. He didn’t want to start their short time alone together off on such a querulous note. “Tonight, let’s agree to pretend David Kelby doesn’t exist. He’s not about to leap out of the hedgerows and catch us together, now is he? In any event, we are doing nothing wrong. You