biscuit, Peter?” Maris asked kindly.
The boy nodded, mute and miserable.
What a trial it must be to have two such awful parents, Reyn thought. Kelby Hall’s butler Amesbury would have a fit if Maris bore a daughter and David and Catherine moved in to ruin the tone of his household.
Reyn caught Maris’s eye. The smile she gave him was so dazzling—so loving—he was knocked back into his chair.
She might have wanted to thwart David, but depriving young Peter Kelby of his future was an entirely different proposition. An honorable woman like Maris could never do such a thing.
Maris set the china tea pot down. “Captain, do you remember the proposal you made to me the other day?”
“The proposal?” Reyn asked, his tongue suddenly thick.
“Yes. I’ve been giving it a great deal of thought, and realized I was thinking overmuch. I find I am very agreeable to your suggestion. In fact, the sooner we can plan the renovations, the better. Before the baby comes, certainly. I might not have time to make all the necessary arrangements once the child is born.”
Reyn knew his mouth was hanging open.
“Why would you care about making improvements to Hazel Grange if you may wind up back at Kelby Hall?” Catherine asked, helping herself to a sliver of candied ginger.
“I have no intention of returning to Kelby Hall.”
Catherine Kelby’s mouth joined Reyn’s. For once, she was wordless.
“Not return?” asked Peter once he had nearly choked on his vanilla-infused biscuit. “What about all those magnificent artifacts? Great-Uncle Henry’s Etruscan finds? The library? It’s all museum-worthy. I’ve never seen the like!”
“Do you know, Peter, it was my husband’s fondest wish to turn part of the Hall into a museum and open it to the public. He wanted me to be the curator, can you believe it? I spent most of my life working toward that ideal, but now I have other things to occupy me. It’s time the Kelby Collection found a new curator. Henry would be so pleased with your interest. Your father tells me you’re quite a scholar.”
Peter blinked. “He did? My father spoke of me?”
Maris nodded. “He came to war—inform—me that you both might come to pay me a visit, and I’m so glad you did. There’s enough at Kelby Hall to keep you busy and expand your classical education for a lifetime. By the time you become earl, you might actually have everything organized.”
Catherine put her cup down with a clatter. “I’m afraid I don’t understand you, Lady Kelby.”
“No, I don’t expect you do. There are some days I hardly understand myself. Please enjoy your tea, and if you wouldn’t mind terribly, see yourself out when you’re done. You must be anxious to get back to the Hall before dark, and there are things I must discuss with the captain. He is so busy, you know. Very much in demand, which is why he rackets about the countryside half dressed and with no neck cloth, but no matter. There is a . . . problem with one of my horses. Captain, you’ll accompany me to the stables?”
Reyn stood, a bit unsteadily. “Of course.”
Maris stood, too, speaking directly to Catherine. “I’m sure Mr. Woodley will get in touch with you about the particulars of this property. Give my best to David when you see him. Peter is a fine young man. He—you both—should be proud.”
The boy was scarlet. “Thank you, my lady.”
It was clear Catherine Kelby did not know what to make of Maris’s little speech. The last Reyn saw of her, she was frowning, reaching for a strawberry tart.
He hurried alongside Maris as they left the room. “What—?”
“Hush. Not yet.”
The footman Phillip opened the front door for them and Reyn followed her outside. The sky was blue and cloudless. Maris’s little black lace cap fluttered in the warm breeze as she led Reyn to the rear of the house and a gated garden. She turned the key in the iron lock, moving quickly on a mown grass path to sit down on a shaded bench
Reyn remained standing. “I see no horses.”
“I lied. Thank you for coming. Who sent for you? Betsy?”
“Aloysius.”
“Bless him. That Kelby woman is insufferable. But I see great promise in her son.”
“His mother wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise.”
“I had the chance to speak to him alone while Margaret gave his mother a tour of the house. A long tour, or as long as it could be in a house of its modest size. I begged off.” Maris winked, placing