Guarding the Spoils (The Wild Randalls - Book 3) (7 page)

Oliver moved until they stood inches apart. Elizabeth’s display of temper did not concern him. In fact, he found her protectiveness of the boy quite reminiscent of his own mother’s odd behavior. Both had fussed when there was no need for concern. He carefully placed his hand against Elizabeth’s upper arm and gave her a pat that he hoped would prevent any unnecessary theatrics. “The boy has a curious mind and I have the time to answer his questions. What harm is there in that?”

Elizabeth jerked away. “Because you have made it plain that you are leaving, despite the urgings of your brothers to remain. I will not have him caught under your spell and then be discarded without a backward glance as you do with everything and everyone.”

Oliver shook his head. “Boys are resilient and not so easily guided by their emotions that they see deeper relationships where none exist. He will understand and survive my leaving without any burden on his emotions. George has asked a question I can answer and I will continue to do so until my ship sails. Why do you deny him the opportunity to enrich his mind when the opportunity costs you nothing?”

“Only you cannot see the cost is far too high.” She glared daggers at him.

The conversation and Elizabeth’s ungrounded fears were quite absurd. The boy would view him as a tutor at the most with no harm coming to him at the end of their time together. Oliver had had many tutors, each one discarded without a backward glance when it became clear he’d exceeded their abilities. Eventually he’d pursued his own education without assistance. Those previous tutors were admired for their patience and willingness to guide him, but he’d cared little for them beyond that. However, convincing Elizabeth that George would be similarly unaffected would be impossible in her current agitated state. She was a creature ruled by her heart rather than her head.

He bowed to her, fully prepared to end the discussion. “I will see George in the library each day at ten o’clock.”

Elizabeth shook her head stubbornly. “Do not expect him.”

Oliver loomed over Elizabeth. She was being foolish in the extreme. Time would prove him correct, he was sure of that. He clasped her upper arms. Her scent and warm softness drew him closer. He breathed deep, holding her gaze steadily. The dark of her eyes widened; her hands touched his chest to hold him back.

“Since you understand my preference for honesty, I shall tell you straight that you are a fool to think your temperament suits the position of housekeeper,” he informed her. “Why did you not stay as you were?”

“The reasons for my decisions could not remotely be of interest to you,” she shot back instantly, scowling. She glanced toward the doorway. “Shouldn’t you return to your plans to travel?”

He frowned. Elizabeth was trying her hardest to send him away, but he wasn’t inclined to go. Not when he was enjoying their conversation so much. An odd yearning rose within him but he fought it back into the quiet, lonely corner of his mind and dropped his hands. “If George is not in the library by a quarter past the hour, then I shall come looking for him to ensure I keep my end of the bargain.”

Chapter Six

A week later…

“MAMA,” GEORGE GROANED. “I’ll be late again.”

Beth set the heaped tray of silver on the table in the sitting room and handed over a cloth, ignoring her son’s protests. “There, this is the last. Just polish those and then we can have luncheon together. Won’t that be nice?”

George jumped up from his chair. “But what about Mr. Randall? He’s been waiting for an hour already. We were going to explore the abbey today.”

Regardless of George’s protests, Beth could care less if Oliver Randall was kept waiting. As she had predicted, George had lapped up the man’s attentions, stealing away to the library whenever her back was turned so that he might not miss a moment. He couldn’t seem to understand that there was a line they could not cross. Beth was a servant now and by extension so was George. He should not be wandering so freely about the abbey, even when encouraged to do so at every turn. “The duchess’s wedding will require much preparation and I have need of you,” she insisted. “We can explore the abbey together after you’ve completed the chores I’ve already set you.”

If Beth was lucky, that would be another hour yet and he might forget all about Oliver Randall and his never-ending stream of confidences and shared secrets.

“But I want to see it with Mr. Randall. He knows all about the abbey. Maybe you could come with us and he could help you learn the history too.”

“You will do as you’re told,” she snapped, furious at yet another mention of Oliver Randall and how she should accompany him. Beth turned back to her office but then jumped. The Duchess of Romsey was sitting before her desk, her nose close to the open top of a canister. She appeared to be inhaling deeply. Her head lifted and she smiled a little sheepishly at Beth as she handed the canister over. “A gift to sweeten your day. They smell divine.”

“Thank you.” Beth pried the lid off and glanced at the contents. Caramels, straight from the new cook’s talented hands. “You’re very generous, but I fear these won’t last long.”

“Treats are for eating, especially by hungry boys.” The duchess glanced into the adjoining chamber. Her smile slipped as she observed George furiously polishing a silver serving spoon. “I would have been here earlier, but Edwin wanted to play a bit longer today and Leopold was elsewhere. I had a hard time getting away.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Beth cleared a space on her desk and drew a scrap of paper from the drawer in case notes were needed. “I quite understand.”

Her Grace’s frown deepened. “We must discuss the arrangements necessary for housing the wedding guests.”

“Certainly.” Beth dipped her quill in the inkpot and prepared to write.

“We will need the rooms prepared.”

Beth made a note:
Bedchambers.
“How many?”

“I should think all of them. I must show my Leopold off properly and ensure any gossip is of the favorable variety. I’ll provide you with a guest list shortly so we can decide who to put where, but there should be sufficient chambers. They’ll just need a bit of cleaning.”

Beth held in a groan at the work ahead and nodded. It was the duchess’s prerogative to invite as many guests as she deemed suitable for her wedding. However, a great number of bedchambers within the abbey had fallen into disuse long ago. There would be much work to do to make them acceptable for guests.

“The public rooms will need to be reorganized to ensure appropriate seating arrangements are available. The pianoforte hasn’t been used in some time and I’m uncertain if it still plays in tune.” The duchess sat forward. “It is important that the wedding week goes off without a hitch. We will need to hire more staff, but we can of course count on those that come with their masters. My sister has some thoughts on the subject. She’ll share them with you later.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Beth made a note to discover who could attend to the pianoforte properly and looked up. “Is there anything else?”

The duchess’s expression grew serious. “I don’t wish to interfere with the way you raise your son, Mrs. Turner, but George isn’t required to do the work of servants. He’s just a boy.”

Beth put aside the quill carefully. “He must do something with his days.”

The duchess leaned back in her chair and studied her. “It was my understanding that Oliver has offered to tutor the boy until he leaves Romsey.”

“Mr. Randall has been far too generous with his time as it is,” Beth said quickly.

“I was speaking to Leopold just last night about Oliver and from what I understand, he has never exhibited such a generous nature before. We believe tutoring George is good for him and the improvement of his social skills is promising.”

Beth frowned. “Oh, how so?”

“For whatever reason, George’s presence has had a positive impact. Oliver, as I’m sure you’re aware, prefers his books to people. However, the last few days he’s changed. I saw him smile yesterday for no reason at all.”

Beth focused on a spot beyond the duchess’s left ear. She’d known Oliver would cause her trouble, but encouragement from the duchess was not what she’d thought to hear. “Oliver rarely shows his emotions.”

“Did his mother tell you that?”

“In a way.” Beth forced a smile to hide the lie. “She was always concerned he would offend those he met. The man is incapable of pretending to feel one thing when he feels another. He would make a terrible diplomat.”

“I knew you knew his temper better than you let on.” The duchess crowed. “I agree. He’s too honest by far. I do dread him meeting the wedding guests. Compared to him, some of them are quite frivolous in nature, but they do have feelings that can be crushed. I hope he will not be unreasonably cold if he does not like them.”

“If I may be frank, Your Grace. It would be best to keep them apart from each other as much as possible and hope for the best.”

The duchess tapped the arm of her chair. “That will be a difficulty as he is impossible to pry from the library. My guests, particularly the gentlemen, will congregate there.”

Getting Oliver from the library would be next to impossible. When she’d surveyed the public rooms last night before bed she had noticed the disorder Oliver had begun in one corner of the library was spreading. In his search for information, he was casting the whole room into extreme disarray. Someone would have to clean up after him.

By rights, she should instruct the maids to do it. However, Annie was noticeably uncomfortable around Oliver and he would likely dismiss her before she could start. Only the strongest of temperaments succeeded in withstanding his arguments. The abbey couldn’t afford to lose any servants this close to the wedding if he barked for them to get out. “Let me think on it a moment.”

She cast her mind back to the time before her wedding when she’d been on intimate terms with those living at Harrowdale. The only way the late Mrs. Randall had contained Oliver was to restrict him to one particular room in the house. The book room at Harrowdale had been for his exclusive use, even casting the senior Mr. Randall’s possessions to another lesser chamber.

She bit her lip, thinking hard. Oliver, and particularly the objects of his study, had to be moved away from the public areas of Romsey Abbey well before the wedding. But how to get him out of the library and achieve that goal? And more importantly, where to put him?

She stood to survey the abbey floor plans that adorned the walls of the room. There was a chamber off another, overlooking the west gardens, that was easily accessible from the main staircase but still relatively private. The room boasted a fine set of windows to provide good reading light and it would be quiet there. That covered two of the things Oliver was known to demand. He would disturb no one there and the only problem she could foresee was that he would be closer to the housekeeper’s sitting room and George. She looked again at the plan, hoping to spy an alternative that would place him farther away. Unfortunately, there wasn’t another empty chamber with similar features in good enough repair.

She tapped the map. “Here. We can put him here.”

The duchess rose and studied the drawing, her head nodding as she considered. “That will do nicely.”

George dropped a silver implement on the floor, drawing her attention. He’d made a very good dent in the polishing but as she studied his sullen expression, she decided he had a better use. “Would you agree that it is your wish to have Mr. Randall and his books removed to another part of the abbey as soon as possible, Your Grace?”

The duchess nodded. “He will be difficult.”

If the duchess agreed to her plan, she could have George distract Oliver long enough so that she could move his possessions today. “Don’t be concerned about Mr. Randall.” She glanced at her son. “I believe I can concoct the perfect distraction.”

The duchess grinned impishly. “I wondered if you might. Shall I take George with me? Edwin would love to see him.”

Beth shook her head, puzzled by the duchess’s offer. “I will need George. He will be the one to distract Mr. Randall, as I am told they were to explore the abbey again today. I can tidy up while he’s busy elsewhere without hearing any arguments. Later, he may not be so pleased, but it will be far too late by that point.”

“Oh.” Her Grace winced. “I thought you were suggesting that you and he might…”

Beth stared, nonplussed. “Might what?”

The duchess resettled in her chair, her hand waving about as if she searched for the right words. After a moment, she squared her shoulders and met Beth’s gaze directly. “Well, you are very lovely and Oliver does stare at you so much. I just assumed the two of you had become more than friends.”

Beth’s cheeks heated at the idea. “I am not so foolish as that. It is simply his way. We are but specimens beneath his magnifying glass, forgotten the moment his attention is diverted elsewhere. Oliver stares at everything.”

“But at you more than others.”

Was it possible to die from humiliation? Since she’d survived it once before, she doubted she couldn’t again. To succumb to anyone’s seductions would endanger her position as housekeeper. To consider a dalliance with Oliver Randall would prove her without good sense. Beth had mistakenly believed him interested once, when she’d been younger, and had the door to happiness slammed in her face when she’d overheard his views on his future. She couldn’t afford to lose the security she’d fought so hard to gain. The duchess must never have any doubts about her character. “Regardless of your assumption, incorrect I must stress, I do know my place, my lady. I shall never do anything to bring dishonor on your family or my place here.”