Guarding the Spoils (The Wild Randalls - Book 3) (13 page)

Oliver lowered the books to the desk, surprise and chagrin flooding him. He hadn’t realized, yet he simply couldn’t think of Elizabeth as William Turner’s wife. It seemed wrong somehow to say that name aloud. Oliver did not know quite how to respond, so he chose not to. He would make a greater effort the next time he had to address her. That decided, he continued assessing and discarding the things he’d gathered.

The duchess huffed. “It appears Mrs. Turner understands you far better than I, sir, but I am not so forgiving of your rudeness. You will turn around, sir, and finish this conversation.”

Oliver pivoted slowly, rather surprised that Her Grace was suddenly behaving as she should. He bowed to her. “I was not aware that you were Elizabeth’s confidant.”

“Beth says little yet reveals a great deal. There is something between you, I am sure of it. You two are very good at keeping secrets.”

The duchess saw more than she should, but he managed to shrug off the sensation that she might be correct. “On the contrary, Elizabeth is transparent in most things.”

The duchess’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Forgive me for being blunt, sir, but I don’t believe that for a minute. There might be one thing that could hold you to Romsey if you were brave enough to open your eyes and take the risk. You didn’t listen carefully enough to what I said before and I shall let you deduce what that might be on your own. Until the dinner hour, sir.”

Her Grace bustled out and the sounds of servants at work around him intruded on his mind. He shook himself. He had no ties to Romsey and Her Grace saying so did not make any connection real. It was just a kiss. A long overdue distraction. Once tasted, Elizabeth could return to the proper place in his memories. A path he had chosen not to take. He fingered the ribbon in his pocket.

Elizabeth would not have spoken of the kiss to the duchess. If she had, Oliver would have already have been pressured to make Elizabeth his wife, ending his plans to leave soon. He shuddered at that prospect. He could not live the rest of his life without seeing any of the world. He must strike out on his own and undertake the grand adventure of his life.

Yes, it was time to forget the past and focus on the future. He took the ribbon from his pocket and strolled into his new bedchamber, admiring the crisp new sheets on his bed as he passed. He opened the top drawer of the bureau, laid the ribbon in the empty space, and left it there. A reminder of the path he’d almost taken.

The tapping of boots alerted him to company. He strolled out to the sitting room and found his brother waiting.

“There you are.”

“Here I am,” Oliver replied, puzzled by his visit. “You’re back again?”

He shrugged. “Cannot get enough of your company.”

The patently ridiculous statement brought a smile to his lips. Even older, his brother had not changed. When Tobias’s gaze narrowed on a bottle of whiskey across the room, Oliver quickly poured him a drink.

As he passed it over, he noticed his brother’s complexion was pale and now he thought further on the matter, he had been pale at breakfast, too. “What’s the matter?”

A hard shudder flowed through his brother’s shoulders. “I can still hear them sometimes. The screams as they burned.”

Oliver led his brother to a chair and eased him into it. He waited while he consumed the liquid and then took the empty glass from him. “There were many times when I thought death would be better for those sharing my incarceration. I saw the worst and best of humanity while confined and I can understand your fears. Skepington housed murderers, thieves, people so deranged that they were a danger even to themselves. The wardens were either cruel or tenderhearted. It just depended on the day.”

“Were there any there as sane as you?”

Oliver saw fear in his brother’s eyes and pulled him close as he would have done when his brother was smaller and injured. At his age, he’d have thought such measures unnecessary but his brother was greatly troubled by the past and couldn’t let it go. Yet he had to. “No. I believed myself the lone voice of reason in that house of the damned.”

He released Tobias quickly, ignoring him as he wiped at his eyes.

“How did you survive it?” he whispered. “How did you not go mad?”

Oliver reached for his pocket and discovered too late that he’d put aside his talisman. His hope. He squared his shoulders, determined to ignore the impulse to hurry for the other room and retrieve it. He could be at peace without a single scrap of ribbon. “The name I was forced to use by the duke, Seventeen, stirred much interest from visitors to Skepington. I always seemed to have company of some sort who wanted to study me and I, in turn, studied them.”

His brother looked at him curiously. “It never bothered you that they thought you mad?”

“No.” He sat back in his chair. “I knew the truth and trusted that those who knew me, should we meet again, would dismiss the claim as fiction. From time to time, I would playact that I was insane just to see what new reaction I’d get from a returning visitor. The difference was quite astonishing really.”

“I thought you touched in the head when we met. You spoke so strangely to me and I couldn’t understand why you didn’t flee since you had the key to your room.”

“Your lives were at stake.” His fingers fell to his pocket again and the emptiness troubled him. “Or so I was led to believe at the time.”

“The duke and his lies.”

Oliver stood and poured a drink for himself and refilled Tobias’s glass as well. When he passed it over, he raised his in a toast. “May he rot forevermore in his own juices.”

Tobias drank with him. “I feel making toasts of that nature will never get old.”

Oliver smiled at the quick change in his brother’s demeanor. Tobias was the most emotional of his siblings, but his hatred of the duke surpassed anything he’d ever witnessed. Pleased that he’d turned his mind from regret and doubt, he sat down to sip his drink.

“How are you getting on at Harrowdale?”

“Making good progress on the house and grounds. Without Blythe there I can trim the ivy myself and not have her faint as I scale the walls. She doesn’t like me to climb anymore.”

A laugh built in Oliver’s chest at the memory of Blythe’s concern as she’d hovered over Tobias after the fire. “That would be because you almost burned off your eyebrows the last time. I clearly remember you saying you valued your looks and didn’t want to spoil them for a lady you hoped to impress.”

Tobias’s smile hinted that the memories of the fire were banished by the thoughts of his future wife. They sat in companionable silence for a time, listening to the flames crackle. When Oliver finished his glass he stood and excused himself for a moment. He slipped into his new bedchamber, slid the drawer open and removed the length of ribbon. As he returned it to his pocket he realized two things. One was that bad memories are more easily banished by good, and Elizabeth was one memory from his past that he’d chosen to cling to. And second, it was good to know his family was safe and well. When Oliver left on his journey he would always know his brothers would be here at Romsey, waiting for his eventual return. There was only Rosemary to worry about now.

Chapter Twelve

THE TROUBLE WITH eleven-year-old boys was that they possessed far too much curiosity and an inability to not demand it be satisfied immediately. Beth sent the ball spinning toward the ninepins, narrowly missing her target.

“Why are you so sad today, Mama?”

“It’s nothing serious.” She forced a smile to her face, willing herself to believe that this unexpected adventure would be good for them. “But come over here and sit with me. I want to talk to you about something important.”

George placed the ball at his feet and hurried across to sit at her side. “What is it?”

“How would you like to undertake a long journey?”

It took two seconds for his face to change from concern to utter joy. He jumped to his feet quickly. “Oh, that would be smashing. I was so hoping we could go with him. Thank you, Mama.” He threw his arms about her neck and squeezed so tightly she feared he would choke her. “Mr. Randall will show us the most fascinating places.”

Beth winced and set her son apart. “We are not to travel with Mr. Randall. Your uncle has invited us to live with him in America, George. That will be even better.”

George’s face fell. “But what about Mr. Randall? We could go with him instead.”

Beth smiled sadly. “Even if he invited you, I could not travel alone with him without causing a scandal. People would talk and a lady’s reputation is very important.”

A puzzled frown crossed his face. “If you married him there’d be nothing to say. Papa always said you made a good wife.”

Beth’s stomach dropped away and she quickly looked around to make sure they were still alone. When she was sure they were, she shook her son’s arm. “Never say that out loud again, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Mama.” George dropped his eyes to the parquetry floor, clearly disappointed that she didn’t agree with him. She’d known he’d become enthralled by Oliver’s intelligence and would grasp at any chance to satisfy his curiosity. But to suggest she marry to keep Oliver in his life was far too much to bear. George looked up at her curiously. “But why not marry him? He doesn’t have a wife and he’s kind. He likes me.”

Beth pulled her son against her as tears stung her eyes. “How could he not like you? But as to the other, what you suggest is not simple or ever likely. I do not care for him that way.”

She released him and faced the window, working to bury her emotions. It wasn’t George’s fault. He didn’t know of her feelings or past disappointments.

A throat cleared not far away. “May we join you?”

Beth turned swiftly on hearing Tobias Randall’s hesitant question. He stood at the door, half in, half out, his expression hopeful. Beth nodded quickly. “Of course.”

He stepped through the doorway and then Oliver followed. Beth’s heart stopped beating. Had they been overheard?

Oliver nodded a greeting and swiftly strode away down the room, halting at George’s side to help set up another game.

“I’ve managed to lure Ollie from his packing,” Tobias said quietly as he joined her. “Is it true that you’re leaving us?”

“You heard?”

Tobias nodded. “Blythe’s not too happy about it. She’s talked of nothing else.”

Relief coursed through her. So Tobias hadn’t heard George’s ridiculous suggestion that she marry Oliver just so they could travel with him. She could be at ease again. “I’m still hoping the trip will be unnecessary, but George knows now if you want to talk to him about your experiences in the Americas.”

Play recommenced and Oliver proved more of a challenge for George than Beth had been. His accuracy was quite surprising. In his youth, Oliver had never been one to play games. However, now he seemed completely content to toss balls down the room and even ruffled George’s hair when her son knocked them all over.

“What I know of America is not for the boy to hear. Where I went doesn’t bear repeating. Better to let Oliver answer his questions.” Tobias gestured at the pair engrossed in the game. “Ollie missed his true calling. He’d have made a good father, I think.”

Beth stiffened and ignored the whispered comment.

“Heard what the boy said as we arrived,” Tobias continued quietly. “George is disappointed, isn’t he?”

“I’m sure once we’re on our way his disappointment will fade.”

“I wasn’t talking about the trip.” Tobias leaned against the wall at her side. “You are both good for Oliver.”

Beth scowled. “Nonsense.”

“Perhaps not. Don’t forget I know the truth. You loved him once. He’s changing, I swear. Not much, I grant you, but he’s a little warmer each time I return. Who knows what another month will bring?”

“Oliver does not change.” Beth shook her head. “Excuse me. I’ve no patience for fantasy today.”

“I didn’t mean to dredge up the past Beth, but Blythe mentioned she discovered you alone with Oliver in a locked room.” Tobias caught her arm when she would have left him. “You could have a choice in this if you spoke to Leopold about it. Oliver may act in ignorance at times but he does know the proprieties must be observed with a lady.”

A hot wave of shame flooded her face as she shook off Tobias’s grip. “I hope I misunderstand your meaning, sir. What you suggest, trapping him into a marriage with a blatant lie, is the act of a despicable woman.”

Tobias glanced at his brother, his expression thoughtful, and Beth took the opportunity to bolt from the room. She hurried to a small alcove she’d stumbled on one day and hid herself amid the folds of heavy curtains. When she’d been young, only a few had known the state of her heart. She’d loved Oliver with a girl’s blind passion. Blind to his faults, blind to his indifference, blind to the fact he would never consider her for his wife. It had taken one painful afternoon to learn why her hopes would never be. He considered a wife and family a millstone about his neck and an end to his dreams. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on the private conversation, but from that moment on her hopes had been doomed.

So when William Turner had come calling, she’d encouraged him. And when he spoke to her father about a marriage she had not said no. Oliver had no response either way to her wedding plans and so she’d become Mrs. Turner rather than Mrs. Randall. Her dreams had died that day.