Guarding the Spoils (The Wild Randalls 3)

George tugged on her sleeve. “Is this better?”

She turned, caught his face between her hands, and peered at him gravely. “Much better. As handsome as ever.”

His cheeks pinked with a blush and his shoulders hunched a little. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that out loud or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

She rubbed his back and he stood taller. “A mother is allowed to be proud of her son and I am so very proud of you. Your father would be too if he were still with us.”

Beth helped him redress and then led him out of their chambers and down the main staircase. It was only when she reached the midpoint that she realized her error. She should have taken the servants’ stairs. She hurried George along, glancing about anxiously until they reached the privacy of the housekeeper’s sitting room.

Once inside, she closed the door and strove to relax. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake like that again. She couldn’t risk losing this chance for security. The duchess had insisted on a trial period and had hinted that she would continue to interview any candidates that presented themselves during the next month.

The housekeeper’s sitting room was cozy and comfortable, but still far grander than her own sitting room had once been. Two well-cushioned chairs sat facing the hearth and a low table sat between. Room enough for two. Four in a pinch if she added the high-backed chairs currently placed around the small mahogany table pushed against the corner. A mahogany sideboard held a single bottle, sherry she assumed, and two glasses on a silver tray beside a set of china ornaments, seabirds of some description.

George glanced around curiously and then sat gingerly on the blue velvet chair closest to the hearth. “It’s quiet in here.”

Beth nodded and then advanced to the door set beside the hearth. With a deep breath she turned the handle and stepped into the housekeeper’s workroom. Again, dark mahogany furniture filled the space: three chairs, a tall cupboard filled one wall across the room, and a large desk dominated the space. The walls held sketches of the estate grounds and floor plans of the abbey itself.

She ran her fingers over the smooth, polished wood of the desk as she walked about it. These rooms, unlike many in the abbey, had been kept in good order but were bare of papers or character. She drew the drapes back from the windows and peered out toward the stables, noticing the Allens had disappeared from view. She’d deal with them tomorrow.

“So this is where you disappeared to, Mrs. Turner,” Lady Venables noted as she swept into the room.

Beth jerked around and dipped a quick, respectful curtsy. “My lady.”

“Her Grace has informed me of the news.”

Beth swallowed. Should she have formally handed her notice to Lady Venables? From her conversation with the duchess, she’d assumed the sisters had already talked the matter over in detail and agreed. “Her Grace has been very generous.”

“Well, time will tell.” She glanced around her. “I take it you’re starting today.”

Beth nodded. “I thought it prudent to get a head start. There is so much to do that it seemed unwise to delay.”

Lady Venables glanced down and twisted an emerald ring gracing her finger; a frown line grew between her brows. Beth squinted at the ring. The piece was not one she was familiar with, but it suited Lady Venables’s hand quite well. Beth’s tongue thickened as she overrode the urge to compliment her on the piece. It was not her place to notice such things anymore.

Lady Venables glanced up, frown firmly in place. “Well, then. I see there is nothing I can do to change your mind.”

“No, my lady. I am very happy to serve the Randalls in this capacity. I feel I can do a great deal more to repay the family for its kindness.”

Her former employer sighed heavily. “A pity. I thought we were becoming great friends. I had a matter I wanted your advice on, but it is too late now.” With one last look, Lady Venables turned on her heel and let herself out, shutting the door firmly behind her.

A pang of disappointment filled Beth. She had enjoyed her time with the countess. The lady was kind, often quite funny in her own quiet way, and had never made Beth feel inferior. They shared many of the same opinions, she’d discovered, and she could at times predict the lady’s reaction to new situations quite accurately. However, becoming the housekeeper put an entirely different cast on their relationship. She had no reason to speak to the countess unless the matter pertained to Romsey Abbey. Whatever the countess had considered asking advice about would forever go unsaid.

Seeking relief from her disappointment, Beth sat at the desk and opened the drawers. Each one was completely empty. She would need to speak to the butler to discover what had become of the housekeeper’s account book and other papers pertaining to the position before she could make an accurate assessment of their situation.

A knock sounded on the door.

“Come.”

The door rattled and then the new first footman, John, came in, bearing a tea tray. “I thought you might require sustenance.”

“Oh, thank you, John. That is very kind.”

“Think nothing of it, Mrs. Turner.”

He left, only to be replaced by the head maid carrying a small vase filled with aster. “Thought you might like something pretty on your desk. Mrs. Callinan always liked roses, but I noticed you pick these for your bedchamber.”

Beth smiled at the tiny blonde. “Thank you, Annie. I do prefer them.”

Annie would be the person she most relied upon in the coming months and years. She hoped they could work together well enough. She placed the vase on the corner of the empty table. “Is there anything else you might need, Mrs. Turner?”