Guarding the Spoils (The Wild Randalls 3)

Elizabeth’s brows rose, highlighting that his agreement had surprised her. “Thank Mr. Randall, George, and then would you mind fetching my shawl from my bedchamber? I am feeling a little chilled this afternoon.”

“Yes, Mama.” George nodded to Oliver. “Thank you, sir. Excuse me.”

He skipped out, leaving them alone again.

Elizabeth closed the door, hands resting on the wood as if it held her up. “What game are you playing?”

He frowned. “I play no game.”

Her hands curled into fists as she faced him. “I will speak plainly since I know you incapable of understanding subtlety. George is easily impressed and a man of your substantial intelligence, willing to converse with him about inconsequential matters, will go straight to his head. I will not have his affections toyed with by you, of all men. You don’t even like people, so why pretend otherwise with my son.”

Oliver moved until they stood inches apart. Elizabeth’s display of temper did not concern him. In fact, he found her protectiveness of the b

oy 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.”