Guarding the Spoils (The Wild Randalls 3)

Beth frowned, confused. “You are pleased with my assistance so far, yet you do not wish me to continue?”

Lady Venables moved to sit at Beth’s side. “What my sister is trying, and failing, to delicately point out is that if you became housekeeper of Romsey you could not sit with us in the evenings.”

“Or participate in outings with Edwin,” the duchess added urgently, as if that loss was the ultimate horror. “You would have to stay behind when we go to London next season and could not enjoy the company of the guests invited for the wedding.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but you forget that I have not lived in luxury my whole life. In fact, living here is as idle as I have ever been. It is true that the few outings with the young duke have been enjoyable treats. My son, George, has also relished the additional comforts afforded living here, particularly the library. But I’m sure you can understand my anxiety that my arrangement with Lady Venables is coming to an end.” Beth smiled a little sadly. “I don’t imagine Lady Venables will need my company once she becomes Mrs. Tobias Randall and moves to Harrowdale.”

The one thing Beth wanted in particular was to be settled with the security of a stable position and roof over her son’s head. She most certainly didn’t want to be a burden or in the way of a pair of ardent newlyweds.

Her employer had the grace to appear a little guilty. “Mercy and I have been discussing what’s best to do for you, too.”

Panic threatened. Had they decided she was no longer needed already? Beth pressed her knees together and folded George’s shirt over them, desperately trying to control her fear. Securing another position, particularly during the winter months, would be difficult in the extreme. She had not saved nearly enough funds to stand on her own two feet again and there was George to consider, too. She needed the housekeeper position to support her small family.

“If you feel the position is beyond my abilities, I assure you I would seek Mrs. Finch’s advice when needed,” she added quickly. Lady Venables housekeeper, Mrs. Finch, had been managing both Romsey Abbey and the smaller estate of Harrowdale without complaint since the previous housekeeper had fled into the night along with half the indoor staff last month.

But of late, Mrs. Finch had mentioned a growing tiredness and pain in her knees. She shouldn’t be asked to continue for much longer at Romsey with its many stairs. The smaller house at Harrowdale suited her age and stamina far better. Beth was still young and the stairs didn’t bother her. She would work hard to become worthy of the position, but she had to convince the duchess to let her try, first.

“I’ll need to think about it,” Her Grace murmured, “and discuss the matter with Leopold at length.”

Beth gripped the shirt. “Of course.”

The clock chimed the hour and Beth risked a quick glance at it again. It really was getting late for the tea to arrive. George would be already tucked up in bed, waiting for her to say goodnight, if he hadn’t fallen asleep already. “If I may suggest, I should like to pay a visit to the kitchens to determine what the delay may be.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Turner,” Lady Venables agreed with a warmer smile. “That would be much appreciated. I cannot imagine what could be keeping them.”

Beth stood on shaky legs and quickly dipped a curtsy. “I will be back in a moment.”

The duchess held up her hand. “After you have sorted out the kitchen and staff, we will completely understand if you would prefer to retire so you may say goodnight to your son. Do not feel compelled to return if you would rather stay with him.”

Beth glanced between the two ladies but could not determine if she was being shown a kindness or being sent away so they could talk about her when she was gone. In the end, she chose to believe it was from kindness. “If you no longer need me, I should like that very much.”

Lady Venables waved her toward the door. “How many times must I mention that your duties were not so rigid that you could not slip upstairs without waiting for permission? Go and tuck George into bed. We’ll see you at breakfast as usual, but remember tomorrow is your morning off.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Beth curtsied again. “Goodnight, Your Grace.”

Lady Venables smiled fondly. “Goodnight, Mrs. Turner.”

“Sleep well,” Her Grace added.

Beth scurried for the doors and pulled them closed behind her. As they clicked shut, she clearly heard the duchess exclaim. “Well, how was I supposed to answer her? The discussion was completely intolerable.”

Beth’s heart sank. She’d overstepped with her offer but it was done now. If the duchess refused, she didn’t know what the future would hold. She hurried for the kitchens, chastised a maid who had delayed the footman with her flirtations, and saw that the tea tray was properly prepared and sent up. Then, with no other demands on her time save her worries, she trudged up the long flights of stairs, through deserted corridors, and stepped into the pair of rooms she shared with her son.

The pretty bedchamber did nothing to ease her nerves. She’d known from the start that she was being granted a boon larger than she deserved when

Lady Venables had employed her as a companion. Her duties to the countess had been hardly taxing on her abilities and she’d thought herself better suited to the housekeeper role. Clearly the duchess hadn’t agreed with her assessment.

She slipped into the smaller adjoining chamber and leaned against the doorframe to observe her son. His dark head was bowed over yet another book from the Romsey library and he didn’t notice her at first. A wave of sadness flooded her. Being in service of any kind at Romsey Abbey had proved a very good circumstance for him. The duchess and Leopold Randall treated him very kindly and encouraged him to borrow whatever books they agreed were appropriate reading material for his age. The promised tutor had not been found as yet, but Beth had never pinned her hopes on that extravagance. “Is it not too late to be reading, George?”

His head rose quickly, an expression of guilt crossing his face. “Is it bedtime already?”

Beth walked forward and tousled his hair. “It’s one quarter after ten o’clock. You should have been asleep long ago.”

He grinned. “The story was too exciting to stop.”

“That is what you always say.”

He marked his place with a scrap of parchment and closed the book. “What shall we do tomorrow?”