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.”
“Mrs. Turner, before Leopold returned I had convinced myself that I was perfectly happy with my life. I was alone and completely in control, or at least as much as I could be under the circumstances. Do you know the one thing I missed most when I became a widow? The lack of contact. Touching another person and having them touch me in return, for whatever reason, I’ve found is essential to my happiness.”
Astonished by the candid confession, Beth strove to keep her expression neutral. “I have George for affection. He has not grown so large that he shuns my embraces.”
“I was not talking about a mother’s love for her child, but a man’s ardent return of affection. There is nothing quite like it.” The duchess grinned again. “I don’t expect you to hide an attachment or affection should romance develop. A little dishonor can be very soothing to one’s nerves.”
Beth shrugged to hide her discomfort. “I do not agree with you.”
The duchess’s expression grew thoughtful, her stare quite similar to Oliver’s wordless study. “Then I fear you never really loved or were loved in return. How sad. I think there is much to admire about you, Beth. You deserve to be adored and have a man make a fool of himself on your behalf. I believe Oliver has the beginnings of real feelings for you.”
Beth glanced down at her hands and squeezed her fingers until her knuckles turned white. She willed them apart and strove to appear unaffected by the duchess’s words. There was much truth in the first part. She had never loved her husband enough. It was a constant pain in her heart that she’d cared for him but never fully loved him. She had tried with all her will but when he had died, a little part of her had been relieved because she wouldn’t have to pretend any longer.
But to hint that Oliver could be a man in love enough to be foolish showed how little the Duchess of Romsey understood him. Oliver Randall was oblivious to anything of an affectionate or even romantic nature. He didn’t require anything from anyone in order to be content.
“Have I made you uncomfortable?” The duchess’s soft question forced her out of her introspection.
Beth rubbed her brow. “No, of course not. But there is really nothing to say. I have no feelings, one way or the other, for him or anyone. If I may be candid, Your Grace, I would prefer it if you did not turn your matchmaking inclinations in my direction.”
The duchess scowled. “I was successful with my sister and Tobias. What makes you think I cannot do it again?”
Beth might be in danger of overstepping on her first day in her new position, but she had to stop the duchess from pursing this line of foolishness any further. “I respect Lady Venables more than words can say, but two more opposite creatures you could never hope to match again. The difference, and why your success was assured, is that both she and Tobias were willing to change to make each other happier.”
The duchess’s brow rose. “And you resist change. You do not believe in love?”
“Far from it, Your Grace.” Beth shook her head. “I have never backed away from a challenge presented by new circumstances. My life has been full and quite uncertain at times. A woman must learn and adapt if she is to survive and thrive again.”
The duchess wrung her hands. “Then you believe Oliver incapable of change, even for love?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed to continue speaking. “There is no room for love in his life. Once he decides on a path he will stick to it until the bitter end. I have no doubt of that. You are wasting your energy and will only be disappointed by him.”
Chapter Seven
THE PROFOUND SILENCE of the east wing of Romsey Abbey soothed Oliver in a way he couldn’t understand. This wasn’t his first visit to the derelict chambers and likely not the last. He left the door ajar and glanced around the bright rooms that had once been his paternal grandmother’s private apartment. He could easily imagine her outrage at their sorry state. The old woman had been meticulously neat.
He stepped farther into the room, brushed his fingers over a small gilt-edged tabletop, and then rubbed the dust from them. When he looked across the space, he noticed tracks crossing the dusty floor from the door to the center of the room. One man-sized. One smaller.
Beside him, George Turner crowded closer. “Are you sure this room is safe?”