Guarding the Spoils (The Wild Randalls - Book 3) (10 page)

“So, you’ve family in America?”

Henry laughed rudely. “No. No. My partners and I are confirmed bachelors, every last one. That’s why young George is so important to me.”

Beth licked her lips. “You never married?”

Henry sat back in his chair and looked about him with a speculative gleam in his eye. “Never found the time. It was a hard life to begin with and I’ve not the time to dance attendance on females. As you can imagine, you don’t get far with a woman in tow.”

She and the duchess exchanged a horrified glance. Henry Turner was not an enlightened man. Her Grace squeezed her hand in a silent gesture of support.

When Beth caught a glimpse of Leopold’s face, he’d turned an unhealthy shade of red. “Come now,” Leopold chided. “There is as much to be gained from a woman’s point of view as any man’s.” He spoke with a distinct growl to his tone and Beth silently cheered his good sense. No wonder the duchess loved Leopold Randall so much. Not many men she’d met in her life would voice support for the fairer sex’s usefulness. He’d been such a stalwart friend when he could have abandoned them without looking back. But he’d ensured she and George were comfortable in their own cottage and had eventually brought them into the abbey on the pretext they were filling a need.

She had seen through his plans at the time, but she’d been so moved by his determination to help that she’d agreed. She hadn’t regretted her decision to act as Lady Venables’s paid companion and when it was clear the countess would marry Tobias Randall, she’d found a way to repay his kindness by entering the duchess’s service.

Henry shrugged aside Leopold’s comment as if it were of no significance. “George will see that things are different in the colony and learn to act accordingly.”

A tiny gasp left the duchess’s lips and Beth feared she’d cut her brother-in-law down to size. However, for a change, Her Grace did not flay the man. She regarded him coolly and played with the band of diamonds around her wrist. “Where does your estate lie, Mr. Turner?”

“Augusta.” The location meant nothing to Beth.

“And what do you grow there?” The duchess managed the question with so much disdain that Beth would have laughed if not for her need to appease her brother-in-law.

“Cotton.”

“I’ve heard you need a good many field hands to do well. Do you have trouble finding reliable workers? Do you own slaves?”

Proper land management required plentiful hands and here at Romsey, Leopold had been striving to increase their numbers. Slave ownership in England was against the law but the practice still thrived elsewhere. Henry’s glance flickered around the room. His eyes narrowed. “I’ve a few darkies about the place but they are free to come and go as they choose.”

Beth didn’t believe him. He was up to his neck in slaves but wouldn’t admit it to the Duchess of Romsey.

Chapter Nine

OLIVER TOOK A pace back from the door and from Blythe. She followed, a frown marring her features, and shook her head at him. “I had no idea it ran in the family. I thought you at least would be spared.”

“It?”

She scowled. “Impulsiveness. A careless disregard for the rules and a lady’s reputation. What were you thinking?”

“Elizabeth is—” he began, but she cut him off with an impatient swipe of her hand.

“Is a servant in this household now,” Blythe reminded him unnecessarily.

“I have already voiced my views to Elizabeth on her unsuitability of being housekeeper at Romsey.” Her refusal to provide a sufficient answer as to why she would take the lower position still vexed him. One day the woman would just tell him what he wanted to know without making him wait forever. Unfortunately, he had no idea how long it would take her to reach that understanding. He shrugged. “She was about to cry.”

Blythe’s brow rose. “And why was that?”

“She wouldn’t tell me.”

Blythe settled on the chaise and patted the cushion beside her. “So she was upset and you locked the door, refusing to allow her to leave this room?”

Against his better judgment, he sat where she indicated, considering how best to answer. Blythe at least appeared to want him to be honest, whereas most people did not appreciate it.

“No. Yes.” He frowned. “I was angry. As you can see, I’ve been moved without so much as a word of warning as to the duchess’s decision. It is intolerable and I told Elizabeth so.”

“Mrs. Turner was following her new employer’s instructions,” she pointed out and then her eyes widened suddenly. “Just how far did you go in your anger?”

The question caught him off guard. Perhaps he had allowed his emotions to cloud his behavior somewhat. That could be one explanation for why the kiss had begun. Under normal circumstances he did not kiss crying women. However, Elizabeth’s stubbornness had made it impossible to act sensibly. Her scent had clouded his mind, the taste of her lips had made him abandon all gentlemanly instincts. He had crowded her and pawed at her. He had not achieved exactly what he’d set out to do. He had made her angry again, but at least she had no longer been tearful when she’d departed. He counted that a small victory.

“I never hurt her. I would not.” He took a deep breath, irritation with himself growing. As if he could ever harm Elizabeth. “I held her. I didn’t want her to cry.”

“You were concerned?”

“The boy says she cries at night. I thought I could discover whatever bothered her and inform him.”

“You really do not understand people or women, do you?” Blythe shook her head. “Most people strive to hide their disappointments from those around them, especially from the ones they love.”

Elizabeth appeared to love her son. She was very protective of him and sought to spare him from any disturbance. “So that is why she will not confide in George?”

Blythe’s smile returned. “That and the fact that he may be too young to understand what has upset her.”

Oliver nodded. Elizabeth’s reluctance to explain made better sense now. “He will have to wait until he is older to become her confidant. I will remember that for future reference.”

“What you should also remember is that Mrs. Turner is a proud woman and would only confide in someone she trusts completely. I’ve yet to meet that person and I hope one day to earn that right. I suggest you do the same.” She sighed. “Until then, take care of her reputation. She has enough on her plate as it is with her brother-in-law visiting.”

Elizabeth didn’t trust him? The idea that she didn’t have faith in him set his teeth on edge. “Why?”

“Because Henry Turner has the look of a man prepared to do battle and take what he wants without thought to the consequences. I don’t know him but I’ve seen a man wear that same determined expression before. Your younger brother wore that expression on the day we met. He frightened me half to death.”

That wasn’t the answer he was looking for but Blythe’s answer was intriguing on its own. “Why would you marry a man who frightens you?”

“Because in the end he proved himself to be different from that terrifying first glance. He’s not afraid to show kindness and was willing to sacrifice his needs, even his very life, for the sake of another’s happiness.”

Tobias had almost died saving Oliver from the blaze at Skepington Hall. No matter how much his younger brother tried to make light of his rescue, his selfless bravery had made him so proud. Despite the years apart, he had not changed. “Tobias always did try to make everyone happy when he was young.”

A dreamy smile passed over Blythe’s face before she recovered and remembered their topic of conversation. “I may prove to be wrong in the end but in the short time I was with Henry Turner I’m convinced he possesses not one shred of human kindness.”

“That may be true.” Oliver shrugged. “However, Leopold will know how to deal with Turner.”

“Deal with him?” Blythe shook her head. “There is nothing to be done when George is Henry Turner’s heir. Without a husband to lend his support and protection, I’m sure Henry Turner will pressure her to take him to that dreadful place.” When he frowned, she added, “To America.”

“Ah.” Oliver considered the likelihood. She could be correct about Turner’s immediate plans, but he didn’t believe Elizabeth would enjoy relocating. She had friends here that she liked to call upon. He could not imagine her living happily anywhere else. No, she and the boy belonged here. Turner would see that eventually.

Blythe stood. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must find George and return below to offer my support. I’m sure Beth will want George presented to his uncle shortly and in his best clothes, too.”

Oliver stood. “I’ll fetch him and bring him here to await the summons.”

Blythe’s expression grew puzzled. “That is unexpectedly kind of you.”

He nodded and, although puzzled by her comment, he hurried back to the east wing. The fewer people visiting his new apartment until he had fully moved in, the better.

The boy was exactly where Oliver had left him and very dusty. “Mr. Randall, come see this.”

“No time for that now.”

“But wait, I have to show you before I forget.”

When Oliver crouched low beside the boy and looked at the model, his blood ran cold. “Interesting,” he managed to choke out.

“I was poking the study furniture with my finger and a section of the wall swung open. There are stairs going down from the study. Of course, it’s only a model and stairs are painted in, but how clever it is. I wonder if the stairs are really there.”

Oliver closed his eyes. George had found the location of another hidden passageway in the abbey. This could be a problem. He had done his best to assure the abbey’s inhabitants that the Duke’s Sanctuary was lost so they might be safe from further villainy. However, he had not known the existence of this model or that it was so accurate. There were three secret passageways built into the design of Romsey, which he’d discovered in his youth. One was blocked. This one led nowhere. A trap for the unwary. The last led to the Duke’s Sanctuary, and if George continued to poke and pry, he might very well stumble onto its location, too.

He grabbed George’s arm and lifted him to his feet.

“Ouch,” George complained as he was released.

“Your mother needs you.”

“I cannot wait to tell her about what I found in the model.”

Oliver rubbed dust from the boy’s shoulders and chest. “You must wait.”

“But why? She’ll be curious too and she is the housekeeper of Romsey.”

If he said no, would George listen or grow stubborn and tell her anyway? Would he run off alone to explore the abbey and draw attention to what he found? Oliver had to take a chance that the boy possessed sense. In this, George must learn to hide the truth from everyone, especially his mother. He leaned down to the boy’s level. “The abbey holds many secrets. Some of them are quite dangerous and it’s best that no one learns all the secrets of Romsey. You must promise me you will mind what I say on this.”

“I already told Mama about the model.” His eyes widened. “Should I not have?”

Oliver winced. “I mentioned it too. Perhaps she will forget in time. It is in her best interest that she does so.”

George’s expression grew thoughtful. “Will you show me someday?”

Against his better judgment, Oliver nodded. “When your uncle has gone we will explore the abbey together, but you must not make the attempt on your own. Promise me.”

George’s eyes widened. “Uncle Henry has come?”

Oliver nodded again, disturbed by the happy light in the boy’s eyes. “You’re to change and wait with me until summoned.”

George grabbed his hand and pulled him in the direction of the doorway, practically running. “Mama said Uncle Henry went to America to make his fortune. Is he very grand, do you think?”

“I have not seen him to be able to say.”

“Papa spoke very highly of my uncle, too. He said America was filled with wonders. Do you think they have many grand buildings there that could be studied the way you like to do?”

The boy prattled on without pause until they reached his bedchamber. Oliver breathed Elizabeth’s scent as soon as he stepped through the doorway and that odd sensation that had possessed him when Elizabeth had been in his arms returned. It was a pleasant sensation.

The boy rushed to the cupboard and Oliver followed. He’d never assisted a child in dressing and wondered what exactly was required. In the end, he need not have fretted. George selected suitable clothes, changed himself into them, and when he was done the only thing required was for Oliver to suggest George run a comb through his hair. They strolled back to his new chamber and sat down.

As they waited, Oliver recalled their previous conversation had not been completed to his satisfaction. “You didn’t promise,” he said quietly.

“Oh, I promise, sir.” George nodded emphatically. “I won’t poke or pry or say a word without your permission.”

George fidgeted then and poked into the corners of the room while Oliver strove to describe what he was feeling. There was little in his life to compare with the emotions the boy stirred in him, but he thought he might be proud of George Turner. That thought made no sense at all. He’d had nothing to do with the boy’s life or in forming his character except for these short weeks. Yet he could not wait to see what the boy would do or say next.