way back to London.
“No, I don’t believe you would. In fact, I am sure of it. I have every confidence in you.” The earl gave him a ghostly smile. “We put it about that it was an accident. To have David step into my shoes”—Kelby shook his head—“no, I cannot let that happen. The thought of it comes close to killing me right now where I sit. Even if Maris is blessed with a daughter from your union, at least she’ll have someone to comfort her when I’m gone.”
“She could marry again.” Reyn wished he could bite off his impulsive tongue.
The earl nodded. “So she could. She’s young enough, and her widow’s portion will be a lure to every fortune hunter in England. But my Maris is shy.”
Reyn harkened back to the avenging angel who ferreted him out at the Reining Monarchs Society. Shy was not quite the word he would have used to describe her, so he said nothing.
“You will have to be careful with her,” the earl continued.
Reyn could feel his ears going hot. He had never in his life had such a strange conversation. The earl was amazingly sanguine about giving instructions to another man as to how to bed his wife. It was clear from his tone and the careful words he used that he had great affection for Maris.
Reyn stood up abruptly. “How can you sit there and give me such advice?”
“What would you have me do, Captain? I’m dying. I don’t have time to pussyfoot around. I need an heir, but I’m not heartless. Maris is a special woman. I’d like her to have some enjoyment over this thing I’ve asked her to do for me. She’s . . . inexperienced. My fault entirely. Consenting to this goes against every rule she’s ever followed, and believe me, she’s a rule follower. Has been since she was a little girl, except when she’s donned breeches to help me in my excavating.” The earl smiled at the memory, and Reyn instantly pictured the tall Lady Kelby’s long legs encased in tight gentlemen’s trousers.
“But I know she loves me, or thinks she does,” Kelby continued. “She’s been loyal. Faithful. I won’t have her mistreated.”
“I would never—” Reyn stopped himself. A week ago he’d wielded a whip on Patsy Rumford’s white behind and thought nothing of it except that it was a bit boring. “I will treat your wife with all due respect and consideration.”
“Good. Then we understand each other. Let’s hope your seed takes and we can be quit of each other soon. I imagine you’d like nothing better. Sit back down, Captain, and try to relax.”
As if he could. “Why did you pick me? Did you think I was the sort of man who would do anything—even this—for money?”
“I had you investigated, Captain Durant. Beyond Mr. Ramsey’s recommendation. You are remarkably honest, even to your own detriment. Honorable. You were brave in service, if a bit foolhardy. Restless. Ready for action. I want any child of mine to be curious about the world, not just sit around waiting for things to happen. I haven’t always been buried behind a stack of books in this library, you know. As a young man, I was active. Spent a great deal of time on the Continent. In Italy, specifically.”
The earl placed a pale broad hand on an ornate stone box anchoring a sheaf of papers. “The Etruscan civilization is my specialty. I dug this cista up myself when I was about your age. Just look at the details! It was my first major find, but not my last. I plan to give a lecture series on all my discoveries next spring at Oxford, if I’m still alive. Publish a book for posterity. Maris has been invaluable helping me get my notes in order and doing some illustrations.”
“Your experiences on the Continent were far different than mine,” Reyn reminded him. “I joined the army when I was sixteen. But it was not a Grand Tour by any means.”
Kelby chuckled. “I dare say not. But you learned a thing or two, did you not?”
“Nothing I could write a book about.” Nothing anyone could read, at any rate.
But if the earl had looked into Reyn’s background, surely he must have discovered his difficulties in school.
“This restlessness of mine you seem to favor—I must tell you, it does not spring from intellectual precocity. Studies bored me stiff. I was the despair of a half dozen headmasters.”
“Perhaps you had not yet found your niche.