may both be experts in Etruscan civilization, they knew nothing about Reynold Durant in the nineteenth century. He would never be able to pull off such a deception. Apart from his youth, there was his ignorance to deal with and his inability to examine anything for any length of time before he lost interest. The idea of being trapped in an attic with the Countess of Kelby and remnants of ancient dead people’s things collected by somewhat more recently dead people held absolutely no allure.
She had told him he was not really expected to do any scholarly work, so there must be a couch or an old feather mattress she planned on using for sexual activity, however. Reyn wondered how many times a day she would expect him to service her. It gave him something to contemplate as he drifted off to sleep.
He woke up the next morning—not that he’d slept very long or very well—almost convinced to do as hired, or at least go to Kelby Hall for a day or two and see where that led him, though he was a little annoyed with Ramsey. He didn’t like thinking of him and Lady Kelby conspiring against him like two strict schoolteachers with a naughty boy in their charge. He wasn’t even all that naughty, when one examined all the facts.
Blast. That was what came of trying to adjust to civilian life without adequate income or occupation. Throw poor Ginny into the mix and he had been between a rock and a very hard place.
He had plenty of time to ride out Richmond to see his sister before he made his final decision. Ginny wouldn’t judge him, not that he’d tell her what he’d been up to lately. She still thought of him as a hero, and he didn’t want to disabuse her of that preposterous notion, particularly on the front page of The London List. What he’d done on the Belgian battlefield five years ago was steeped so deep in the mists of time he could barely remember it. He may have won his captaincy as a result, but his career had been distinctly downhill from there.
He’d managed to hang on to his old charger Phantom through thick and thin, and Reyn walked to the stables where the horse was housed. After a few words with the groom, he found his horse waiting, long nose poked over the stall. The gelding seemed pleased to see him, whickering and tossing his coarse gray mane in greeting. Reyn pulled an apple from his coat pocket and watched while Phantom enthusiastically chomped down on it. The horse didn’t have a care in the world. He was warm and fed and dry, no longer evading bullets or sabers.
Not faced with a moral dilemma, either.
Reyn dealt with the tack himself and wended through London’s morning traffic. The December day was bright and clear, with just enough nip in the air to make the ride to Richmond pleasurable.
It was not long before he came to Ginny’s cottage. A few very late roses climbed bravely up the lattice by the door. The house was altogether charming, much nicer than anywhere Ginny had lived in a long time. Their parents’ financial circumstances meant that year by year their accommodations were reduced in size and restricted by neighborhood.
When Reyn had come back to London from Canada, he’d found his little sister pale and coughing her head off, living above a butcher shop belonging to their old cook’s brother. He’d done what he could, moving her to better lodgings along with Mrs. Clark the cook. Thanks to the Earl of Kelby, the cottage and the extra servants were a vast improvement.
After tying Phantom to a bare sapling in front of the house, he strode down the path and knocked on the door. Ginny wasn’t expecting him, as he usually visited on Sundays. Most of the time she was too ill to attend church services, but the earnest young vicar stopped by Sunday afternoons and she seemed to take comfort from his visits.
Reyn had endured the homilies and platitudes over tea for his sister’s sake, but was not convinced God was watching out for any of them. If anything, the Old Boy must have lost patience with him years ago, when he could not sit still in church to save his life. His mother had swatted him after he looked up at the ceiling one Sunday and said during a lull, “That’s enough, God. I want to go home.”