Guarding the Spoils (The Wild Randalls - Book 3) (21 page)

Beth remained at a distance from her brother-in-law and Leopold Randall until they eventually paused in their discussion, forcing her anger away and plotting her resistance. When he noticed her standing alone, at least Leopold appeared chagrined. “Forgive me, Beth. I thought my brothers were still with you. Henry, I don’t mind telling you that Beth will be sorely missed when she leaves us. The duchess was remarking just last night at dinner that Beth has become indispensable.”

Henry’s brow rose. “Well, we cannot have the duchess inconvenienced. Beth may remain. It makes no difference to me. I’ll suggest George write to her every once in a while.”

Beth glared at her brother-in-law, the flippant comment adding to her outrage. How dare he? “George goes nowhere without me.”

The seriousness of her tone had little impact. Henry merely laughed and looked around. “Clearly not all the time. Where exactly is George now in that monstrosity, eh? The boy will do well enough without you, should you prefer to retain and cultivate your relationship with the duchess. I’ll look out for him now.”

She met Leopold’s gaze and swallowed. Had Henry been aiming for this all along? He would take George away and remake him into his own son without her interference. She couldn’t let that happen. She would not. “The duchess is too kind, but I will not be left behind to wonder if your estate is as grand as you claim.”

Henry’s jaw clenched at her accusation. She had no proof of his wealth or situation but his own few words. She was tired of giving him the benefit of the doubt. If he lied to them and they moved, they might never escape his control again.

He took a pace forward and Beth glanced down. His hand had curled into a fist at his side. She raised a brow and dared him to follow through with his desire to shut her up. He’d learn she wasn’t any man’s victim. Rose, of all people, had taught her how to fight back once and she still remembered enough now to feel confident.

“She will get over the loss of you if you promise to write as often as you can,” Leopold added quickly, stepping between them smoothly. He slapped his hand to Henry’s shoulder and turned him in the direction of the stables. “Excuse us, Beth.”

Beth took the opportunity to flee, walking away with her back straight as if the encounter had been commonplace. Once she reached the safety of her bedchamber, however, she closed and locked the door behind her and sank to the floor.

She did not want to go anywhere with Henry but she could not be left behind to wonder what kind of man her son would turn out to be. She covered her face and burst into tears. It was bad enough that she’d never see Oliver again, but she wouldn’t survive the loss of her son, too.

Fate couldn’t possibly be so cruel as to take the two greatest loves from her life at the same time.

Chapter Nineteen

OLIVER LET HIMSELF into his apartment and locked the door behind him so he might secure his peace. The day had not ended particularly well. The worst of it was that he only had himself to blame. He had not expected news of Elizabeth’s imminent departure to trouble him as much as it did. After all, he was leaving England before her and he’d had days to accept her path would greatly diverge from his.

The forced cheer he’d witnessed in the garden had been for her son’s sake and he’d wanted to tell her she was wrong about his dreams. The endless arguments with his brothers about his departure had stolen any chance for private speech with her after dinner. Her happiness
was
important to him. He would think of her often, as he had always done, when they parted company in a few days.

The door behind his back rattled with the force of a blow. “We’ve not finished this discussion, sir. Slinking away while my back was turned will not save you. Get your ass back out here and talk to us,” Leopold yelled.

Oliver moved away from the door and raked a hand through his hair as irritation seized him. His elder brother had taken the news of his imminent departure less than well. It was quite a shock to Oliver to be set upon by his own family. He hadn’t felt this anxious since his days at Skepington. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat at the memory of that evil place. Bargaining for the key to his chamber there had been an absolute necessity. He’d not enjoyed waking to find a fellow inmate leaning over his bed or rifling through his possessions.

He pulled the ribbon he always carried from his pocket and stroked the once-lustrous material. It had darkened since he’d first acquired it, but it still retained the same ability to soothe him. The door rattled one last time and then Leopold’s footsteps hurried away.

“Will he be back,” a small voice asked suddenly.

When Oliver looked about, he spotted George huddled by the fire. Puzzled by his presence at this time of night, Oliver moved toward him, tucking the ribbon back into its usual resting place. “It’s likely, unfortunately. He will be even more cross with me by then. You may want to take the opportunity to leave before he returns or else be faced with a terrible scene.”

Oliver was the only one with keys to this room. As soon as he’d decided to move in, he’d taken the housekeeper’s copy from Elizabeth when she hadn’t been looking in order to ensure his privacy. Leopold was about to discover that fact for himself and he hoped he wouldn’t rant at the new young housekeeper too ferociously.

“He’s mad at you for going away?” George asked, still curled up where Oliver had discovered him. The wistfulness in his voice caught him by surprise. Shouldn’t he be happier that he was bound for adventure too?

“My brother is bossy. A side effect of being the eldest.” Leopold was turning into a damned nuisance.

“I was the eldest once,” George said as he laid his head against his knee and stared into the dancing flames. “A long time ago I had a little brother and sister to take care of. Papa said I had to look out for them.”

There was nothing Oliver wanted to say to that. He’d decided that to ask after Elizabeth’s other offspring, George’s siblings, would stir up emotions best left at rest, so he made himself comfortable in a chair not far from where the boy perched. But the boy’s presence and sober mood could not be ignored. “It’s late. What brings you to me at this hour?”

The boy shrugged and didn’t answer. That was unlike him. Usually George was quite forthcoming with information and conversation. “Your mother will worry where you are soon and come looking to fetch you to bed.”

An expression of distaste crossed his face and Oliver’s contentment vanished. The boy had never before reacted to the mention of his mother in such a way. The lack of respect bothered him a great deal. Why would George be disgusted by Elizabeth? It couldn’t be that he knew they were lovers or the boy would never have come to him tonight. It must concern something else, and the only other event in his life presently was his uncle’s plan to take him away. “Are you anxious about leaving England?”

“No.” George shrugged. “Sort of.”

Oliver moved until he was sitting on the floor beside George. He stretched out his legs until he was comfortable. George copied him and a strange sensation crept through Oliver’s being. Happiness. He was happy to be sitting on the floor beside his lover’s son, whose character was a great deal similar to his own. An impossibility, but Oliver continued to see similarities between their natures. Or perhaps, he merely wished they were there. If he had married Elizabeth when his parents had hinted at the match, would his own flesh and blood be like George? He’d never know and considering such a theory would lead exactly nowhere.

“Explain,” he demanded of George.

“I don’t want to go to America.”

“Ah,” Oliver said slowly, still puzzled. “Change can be difficult to accept, but you will grow from the experience and find your place again.”

George pulled his legs up and hugged his knees. “If Mama had been nicer we wouldn’t have to go.”

“Your mother has an exceptionally agreeable temperament,” Oliver corrected. “What could she have done differently? Your uncle is here and you are his heir. It is logical that you go with him to learn of what you will inherit.”

“I don’t want to be his heir. I want to stay with you,” George blurted out.

Understanding slammed through Oliver. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and glanced at the boy huddled miserably at his side. What could he possibly say? He would gladly have the boy as a companion on his trip, but Elizabeth would not allow it. She had already protested that the time they spent together in study would strengthen any bonds beyond those expected between a student and tutor.

Perhaps she’d been right to protest.

She did know her son better than he did.

In all of Oliver’s life there had never been a time when he hadn’t known exactly what to say. He preferred honesty, but telling young George that his mother would never let him travel with him would only cause more problems between them. If George had already told Elizabeth of his wish, then it was no wonder she had dismissed his earlier concern as if he wasn’t important. She was trying to protect the child and help him accept the direction the future was taking him. Oliver would do anything he could to help Beth in that regard. “Everyone outgrows their teachers at some stage. I had several and still think of them fondly.”

George’s shoulders hunched further.

“I remember one fellow, Mr. Pierce, insisted every response be followed with his name. It grew quite tiresome. He thought very well of himself, but he did know his mathematics.”

Oliver bent one leg and set an arm to his knee, warming to the topic. “Another, Mr. Reeves, could discuss theology at any hour of the day or night. It was his belief that animals had souls and carried them to another body when they died. My father dismissed him when he overheard our discussion just when it was becoming interesting.”

“They sound very silly.” George peered up at him. “But you’re not like that.”

Oliver chuckled. “Everyone is silly at one point or other in their lives. But still, silly or not, right or wrong, they still deserve our respect for the kindness they show us in sharing their opinions. But there is also a time for all things to end. We grow from new experiences. Why are you upset with your mother, lad?”

“She could change things, but she won’t.”

Oliver frowned. “From what I’ve observed, she has chosen the path she wants to take. It is not for us to question her. She has your best interests at heart, always.”

“If she married, she wouldn’t have to go,” George insisted. “My new father could protest and insist we stay here and not go to America.”

“Who do you imagine your mother might marry, lad?”

George’s face pinked and he looked down. Realization dawned slowly for Oliver. If he were inclined to ask Elizabeth to marry him again, George would not protest were she to accept. George would have what he wanted, avoidance of America and to travel with him to the continent. His logic had merit except Oliver perceived the preparations for Elizabeth and George’s departure had progressed too far to be halted by a mere offer of marriage. “A marriage would not stop you being Mr. Turner’s heir. He would still want you to go with him.”

The air left George’s lungs in a rush and he turned away, disappointment clear in his crumpled posture.

Oliver nudged him. “But if I ever had a son, I should hope he was like you. Let’s not spend our last days together in a sulk.”

When George wiped at his eyes, Oliver was surprised. Was he that set on a tour of the continent that he would succumb to tears when denied?

“What shall we do tomorrow?” he asked gently, determined to soothe him with the lure of a local adventure. “Shall we fish or take a walk, or perhaps go riding? It’s been many weeks since you’ve visited the stables or the Allen boys. We could all go riding together if you like?”

The boy shook his head quickly, giving Oliver the idea that the lesson’s abrupt end had been his choice all those weeks ago. Was that why the boy hugged his shadow so closely? Had he had a disagreement with Charles Allen or his sons? When morning came, should he speak to Allen about the matter and ensure the issue was resolved? A father would undoubtedly do that for his son. The question was did Oliver have the right to interfere?

If it wasn’t a simple disagreement, easily set aside, he’d find some other way to entertain the boy. Perhaps he could fulfill his promise to show George the secrets of Romsey. Although he acknowledged now that offering to take George to the Duke’s Sanctuary was extremely dangerous and oddly sentimental, he had made a promise. He would keep it. “If your mother agrees and there are no visitors to be met with, you and I shall take a short trip tomorrow.”

George frowned. “Mama never lets me go very far without telling her where I’ll be. Uncle said women are meddlesome creatures.”

Oliver tossed the statement over in his mind, vastly troubled by it. Henry Turner’s opinion would poison the boy’s mind against women. Was his first step to be making Elizabeth an outsider in George’s life? Oliver would not allow it. “Men of sense do not disregard women, George. Your mother gave you life. It is small-minded of you to believe her concern for your welfare is meddlesome.”

George had the sense to look chagrined. He nodded slowly and mumbled a contrite “yes, sir.” When he lifted his head, his expression was once again hopeful. “Where will we go tomorrow?”

But before Oliver could answer, footsteps rushed toward them and the doors burst inward. “Don’t you ever do that again,” Leopold growled. “You ba…”