He nodded and, although puzzled by her comment, he hurried back to the east wing. The fewer people visiting his new apartment until he had fully moved in, the better.
The boy was exactly where Oliver had left him and very dusty. “Mr. Randall, come see this.”
“No time for that now.”
“But wait, I have to show you before I forget.”
When Oliver crouched low beside the boy and looked at the model, his blood ran cold. “Interesting,” he managed to choke out.
“I was poking the study furniture with my finger and a section of the wall swung open. There are stairs going down from the study. Of course, it’s only a model and stairs are painted in, but how clever it is. I wonder if the stairs are really there.”
Oliver closed his eyes. George had found the location of another hidden passageway in the abbey. This could be a problem. He had done his best to assure the abbey’s inhabitants that the Duke’s Sanctuary was lost so they might be safe from further villainy. However, he had not known the existence of this model or that it was so accurate. There were three secret passageways built into the design of Romsey, which he’d discovered in his youth. One was blocked. This one led nowhere. A trap for the unwary. The last led to the Duke’s Sanctuary, and if George continued to poke and pry, he might very well stumble onto its location, too.
He grabbed George’s arm and lifted him to his feet.
“Ouch,” George complained as he was released.
“Your mother needs you.”
“I cannot wait to tell her about what I found in the model.”
Oliver rubbed dust from the boy’s shoulders and chest. “You must wait.”
“But why? She’ll be curious too and she is the housekeeper of Romsey.”
If he said no, would George listen or grow stubborn and tell her anyway? Would he run off alone to explore the abbey and draw attention to what he found? Oliver had to take a chance that the boy possessed sense. In this, George must learn to hide the truth from everyone, especially his mother. He leaned down to the boy’s level. “The abbey holds many secrets. Some of them are quite dangerous and it’s best that no one learns all the secrets of Romsey. You must promise me you will mind what I say on this.”
“I already told Mama about the model.” His eyes widened. “Should I not have?”
Oliver winced. “I mentioned it too. Perhaps she will forget in time. It is in her best interest that she does so.”
George’s expression grew thoughtful. “Will you show me someday?”
Against his better judgment, Oliver nodded. “When your uncle has gone we will explore the abbey together, but you must not make the attempt on your own. Promise me.”
George’s eyes widened. “Uncle Henry has come?”
Oliver nodded again, disturbed by the happy light in the boy’s eyes. “You’re to change and wait with me until summoned.”
George grabbed his hand and pulled him in the direction of the doorway, practically running. “Mama said Uncle Henry went to America to make his fortune. Is he very grand, do you think?”
“I have not seen him to be able to say.”
“Papa spoke very highly of my uncle, too. He said America was filled with wonders. Do you think they have many grand buildings there that could be studied the way you like to do?”
The boy prattled on without pause until they reached his bedchamber. Oliver breathed Elizabeth’s scent as soon as he stepped through the doorway and that odd sensation that had possessed him when Elizabeth had been in his arms returned. It was a pleasant sensation.
The boy rushed to the cupboard and Oliver followed. He’d never assisted a child in dressing and wondered what exactly was required. In the end, he need not have fretted. George selected suitable clothes, changed himself into them, and when he was done the only thing required was for Oliver to suggest George run a comb through his hair. They strolled back to his new chamber and sat down.
As they waited, Oliver recalled their previous conversation had not been completed to his satisfaction. “You didn’t promise,” he said quietly.
“Oh, I promise, sir.” George nodded emphatically. “I won’t poke or pry or say a word without your permission.”
George fidgeted then and poked into the corners of the room while Oliver strove to describe what he was feeling. There was little in his life to compare with the emotions the boy stirred in him, but he thought he might be proud of George Turner. That thought made no sense at all. He’d had nothing to do with the boy’s life or in forming his character except for these short weeks. Yet he could not wait to see what the boy would do or say next.
Footsteps approached and he stood expectantly. Elizabeth came to a stop just outside the doorway. She’d changed from her drab housekeeper’s gown and looked so lovely that he took a pace toward her before he considered her likely reaction. She scowled and then held out her hands to George. The boy hurried to her side and she hugged him tightly. “Your uncle is here and wants to see you.”
“Is he rich?”