Guarding the Spoils (The Wild Randalls 3)

There was nothing Oliver wanted to say to that. He’d decided that to ask after Elizabeth’s other offspring, George’s siblings, would stir up emotions best left at rest, so he made himself comfortable in a chair not far from where the boy perched. But the boy’s presence and sober mood could not be ignored. “It’s late. What brings you to me at this hour?”

The boy shrugged and didn’t answer. That was unlike him. Usually George was quite forthcoming with information and conversation. “Your mother will worry where you are soon and come looking to fetch you to bed.”

An expression of distaste crossed his face and Oliver’s contentment vanished. The boy had never before reacted to the mention of his mother in such a way. The lack of respect bothered him a great deal. Why would George be disgusted by Elizabeth? It couldn’t be that he knew they were lovers or the boy would never have come to him tonight. It must concern something else, and the only other event in his life presently was his uncle’s plan to take him away. “Are you anxious about leaving England?”

“No.” George shrugged. “Sort of.”

Oliver moved until he was sitting on the floor beside George. He stretched out his legs until he was comfortable. George copied him and a strange sensation crept through Oliver’s being. Happiness. He was happy to be sitting on the floor beside his lover’s son, whose character was a great deal similar to his own. An impossibility, but Oliver continued to see similarities between their natures. Or perhaps, he merely wished they were there. If he had married Elizabeth when his parents had hinted at the match, would his own flesh and blood be like George? He’d never know and considering such a theory would lead exactly nowhere.

“Explain,” he demanded of George.

“I don’t want to go to America.”

“Ah,” Oliver said slowly, still puzzled. “Change can be difficult to accept, but you will grow from the experience and find your place again.”

George pulled his legs up and hugged his knees. “If Mama had been nicer we wouldn’t have to go.”

“Your mother has an exceptionally agreeable temperament,” Oliver corrected. “What could she have done differently? Your uncle is here and you are his heir. It is logical that you go with him to learn of what you will inherit.”

“I don’t want to be his heir. I want to stay with you,” George blurted out.

Understanding slammed through Oliver. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and glanced at the boy huddled miserably at his side. What could he possibly say? He would gladly have the boy as a companion on his trip, but Elizabeth would not allow it. She had already protested that the time they spent together in study would strengthen any bonds beyond those expected between a student and tutor.

Perhaps she’d been right to protest.

She did know her son better than he did.

In all of Oliver’s life there had never been a time when he hadn’t known exactly what to say. He preferred honesty, but telling young George that his mother would never let him travel with him would only cause more problems between them. If George had already told Elizabeth of his wish, then it was no wonder she had dismissed his earlier concern as if he wasn’t important. She was trying to protect the child and help him accept the direction the future was taking him. Oliver would do anything he could to help Beth in that regard. “Everyone outgrows their teachers at some stage. I had several and still think of them fondly.”

George’s shoulders hunched further.

“I remember one fellow, Mr. Pierce, insisted every response be followed with his name. It grew quite tiresome. He thought very well of himself, but he did know his mathematics.”

Oliver bent one leg and set an arm to his knee, warming to the topic. “Another, Mr. Reeves, could discuss theology at any hour of the day or night. It was his belief that animals had souls and carried them to another body when they died. My father dismissed him when he overheard our discussion just when it was becoming interesting.”

“They sound very silly.” George peered up at him. “But you’re not like that.”

Oliver chuckled. “Everyone is silly at one point or other in their lives. But still, silly or not, right or wrong, they still deserve our respect for the kindness they show us in sharing their opinions. But there is also a time for all things to end. We grow from new experiences. Why are you upset with your mother, lad?”

“She could change things, but she won’t.”

Oliver frowned. “From what I’ve observed, she has chosen the path she wants to take. It is not for us to question her. She has your best interests at heart, always.”

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“If she married, she wouldn’t have to go,” George insisted. “My new father could protest and insist we stay here and not go to America.”

“Who do you imagine your mother might marry, lad?”

George’s face pinked and he looked down. Realization dawned slowly for Oliver. If he were inclined to ask Elizabeth to marry him again, George would not protest were she to accept. George would have what he wanted, avoidance of America and to travel with him to the continent. His logic had merit except Oliver perceived the preparations for Elizabeth and George’s departure had progressed too far to be halted by a mere offer of marriage. “A marriage would not stop you being Mr. Turner’s heir. He would still want you to go with him.”

The air left George’s lungs in a rush and he turned away, disappointment clear in his crumpled posture.

Oliver nudged him. “But if I ever had a son, I should hope he was like you. Let’s not spend our last days together in a sulk.”

When George wiped at his eyes, Oliver was surprised. Was he that set on a tour of the continent that he would succumb to tears when denied?

“What shall we do tomorrow?” he asked gently, determined to soothe him with the lure of a local adventure. “Shall we fish or take a walk, or perhaps go riding? It’s been many weeks since you’ve visited the stables or the Allen boys. We could all go riding together if you like?”