Her Grace bustled out and the sounds of servants at work around him intruded on his mind. He shook himself. He had no ties to Romsey and Her Grace saying so did not make any connection real. It was just a kiss. A long overdue distraction. Once tasted, Elizabeth could return to the proper place in his memories. A path he had chosen not to take. He fingered the ribbon in his pocket.
Elizabeth would not have spoken of the kiss to the duchess. If she had, Oliver would have already have been pressured to make Elizabeth his wife, ending his plans to leave soon. He shuddered at that prospect. He could not live the rest of his life without seeing any of the world. He must strike out on his own and undertake the grand adventure of his life.
Yes, it was time to forget the past and focus on the future. He took the ribbon from his pocket and strolled into his new bedchamber, admiring the crisp new sheets on his bed as he passed. He opened the top drawer of the bureau, laid the ribbon in the empty space, and left it there. A reminder of the path he’d almost taken.
The tapping of boots alerted him to company. He strolled out to the sitting room and found his brother waiting.
“There you are.”
“Here I am,” Oliver replied, puzzled by his visit. “You’re back again?”
He shrugged. “Cannot get enough of your company.”
The patently ridiculous statement brought a smile to his lips. Even older, his brother had not changed. When Tobias’s gaze narrowed on a bottle of whiskey across the room, Oliver quickly poured him a drink.
As he passed it over, he noticed his brother’s complexion was pale and now he thought further on the matter, he had been pale at breakfast, too. “What’s the matter?”
A hard shudder flowed through his brother’s shoulders. “I can still hear them sometimes. The screams as they burned.”
Oliver led his brother to a chair and eased him into it. He waited while he consumed the liquid and then took the empty glass from him. “There were many times when I thought death would be better for those sharing my incarceration. I saw the worst and best of humanity while confined and I can understand your fears. Skepington housed murderers, thieves, people so deranged that they were a danger even to themselves. The wardens were either cruel or tenderhearted. It just depended on the day.”
“Were there any there as sane as you?”
Oliver saw fear in his brother’s eyes and pulled him close as he would have done when his brother was smaller and injured. At his age, he’d have thought such measures unnecessary but his brother was greatly troubled by the past and couldn’t let it go. Yet he had to. “No. I believed myself the lone voice of reason in that house of the damned.”
He released Tobias quickly, ignoring him as he wiped at his eyes.
“How did you survive it?” he whispered. “How did you not go mad?”
Oliver reached for his pocket and discovered too late that he’d put aside his talisman. His hope. He squared his shoulders, determined to ignore the impulse to hurry for the other room and retrieve it. He could be at peace without a single scrap of ribbon. “The name I was forced to use by the duke, Seventeen, stirred much interest from visitors to Skepington. I always seemed to have company of some sort who wanted to study me and I, in turn, studied them.”
His brother looked at him curiously. “It never bothered you that they thought you mad?”
“No.” He sat back in his chair. “I knew the truth and trusted that those who knew me, should we meet again, would dismiss the claim as fiction. From time to time, I would playact that I was insane just to see what new reaction I’d get from a returning visitor. The difference was quite astonishing really.”
“I thought you touched in the head when we met. You spoke so strangely to me and I couldn’t understand why you didn’t flee since you had the key to your room.”
“Your lives were at stake.” His fingers fell to his pocket again and the emptiness troubled him. “Or so I was led to believe at the time.”
“The duke and his lies.”
Oliver stood and poured a drink for himself and refilled Tobias’s glass as well. When he passed it over, he raised his in a toast. “May he rot forevermore in his own juices.”
Tobias drank with him. “I feel making toasts of that nature will never get old.”
Oliver smiled at the quick change in his brother’s demeanor. Tobias was the most emotional of his siblings, but his hatred of the duke surpassed anything he’d ever witnessed. Pleased that he’d turned his mind from regret and doubt, he sat down to sip his drink.
“How are you getting on at Harrowdale?”
“Making good progress on the house and grounds. Without Blythe there I can trim the ivy myself and not have her faint as I scale the walls. She doesn’t like me to climb anymore.”
A laugh built in Oliver’s chest at the memory of Blythe’s concern as she’d hovered over Tobias after the fire. “That would be because you almost burned off your eyebrows the last time. I clearly remember you saying you valued your looks and didn’t want to spoil them for a lady you hoped to impress.”
Tobias’s smile hinted that the memories of the fire were banished by the thoughts of his future wife. They sat in companionable silence for a time, listening to the flames crackle. When Oliver finished his glass he stood and excused himself for a moment. He slipped into his new bedchamber, slid the drawer open and removed the length of ribbon. As he returned it to his pocket he realized two things. One was that bad memories are more easily banished by good, and Elizabeth was one memory from his past that he’d chosen to cling to. And second, it was good to know his family was safe and well. When Oliver left on his journey he would always know his brothers would be here at Romsey, waiting for his eventual return. There was only Rosemary to worry about now.
Chapter Twelve
THE TROUBLE WITH eleven-year-old boys was that they possessed far too much curiosity and an inability to not demand it be satisfied immediately. Beth sent the ball spinning toward the ninepins, narrowly missing her target.
“Why are you so sad today, Mama?”
“It’s nothing serious.” She forced a smile to her face, willing herself to believe that this unexpected adventure would be good for them. “But come over here and sit with me. I want to talk to you about something important.”
George placed the ball at his feet and hurried across to sit at her side. “What is it?”
“How would you like to undertake a long journey?”
It took two seconds for his face to change from concern to utter joy. He jumped to his feet quickly. “Oh, that would be smashing. I was so hoping we could go with him. Thank you, Mama.” He threw his arms about her neck and squeezed so tightly she feared he would choke her. “Mr. Randall will show us the most fascinating places.”
Beth winced and set her son apart. “We are not to travel with Mr. Randall. Your uncle has invited us to live with him in America, George. That will be even better.”
George’s face fell. “But what about Mr. Randall? We could go with him instead.”
Beth smiled sadly. “Even if he invited you, I could not travel alone with him without causing a scandal. People would talk and a lady’s reputation is very important.”
A puzzled frown crossed his face. “If you married him there’d be nothing to say. Papa always said you made a good wife.”
Beth’s stomach dropped away and she quickly looked around to make sure they were still alone. When she was sure they were, she shook her son’s arm. “Never say that out loud again, do you hear me?”
“Yes, Mama.” George dropped his eyes to the parquetry floor, clearly disappointed that she didn’t agree with him. She’d known he’d become enthralled by Oliver’s intelligence and would grasp at any chance to satisfy his curiosity. But to suggest she marry to keep Oliver in his life was far too much to bear. George looked up at her curiously. “But why not marry him? He doesn’t have a wife and he’s kind. He likes me.”
Beth pulled her son against her as tears stung her eyes. �
��How could he not like you? But as to the other, what you suggest is not simple or ever likely. I do not care for him that way.”
She released him and faced the window, working to bury her emotions. It wasn’t George’s fault. He didn’t know of her feelings or past disappointments.
A throat cleared not far away. “May we join you?”
Beth turned swiftly on hearing Tobias Randall’s hesitant question. He stood at the door, half in, half out, his expression hopeful. Beth nodded quickly. “Of course.”
He stepped through the doorway and then Oliver followed. Beth’s heart stopped beating. Had they been overheard?
Oliver nodded a greeting and swiftly strode away down the room, halting at George’s side to help set up another game.
“I’ve managed to lure Ollie from his packing,” Tobias said quietly as he joined her. “Is it true that you’re leaving us?”
“You heard?”
Tobias nodded. “Blythe’s not too happy about it. She’s talked of nothing else.”
Relief coursed through her. So Tobias hadn’t heard George’s ridiculous suggestion that she marry Oliver just so they could travel with him. She could be at ease again. “I’m still hoping the trip will be unnecessary, but George knows now if you want to talk to him about your experiences in the Americas.”
Play recommenced and Oliver proved more of a challenge for George than Beth had been. His accuracy was quite surprising. In his youth, Oliver had never been one to play games. However, now he seemed completely content to toss balls down the room and even ruffled George’s hair when her son knocked them all over.
“What I know of America is not for the boy to hear. Where I went doesn’t bear repeating. Better to let Oliver answer his questions.” Tobias gestured at the pair engrossed in the game. “Ollie missed his true calling. He’d have made a good father, I think.”
Beth stiffened and ignored the whispered comment.
“Heard what the boy said as we arrived,” Tobias continued quietly. “George is disappointed, isn’t he?”
“I’m sure once we’re on our way his disappointment will fade.”
“I wasn’t talking about the trip.” Tobias leaned against the wall at her side. “You are both good for Oliver.”
Beth scowled. “Nonsense.”
“Perhaps not. Don’t forget I know the truth. You loved him once. He’s changing, I swear. Not much, I grant you, but he’s a little warmer each time I return. Who knows what another month will bring?”
“Oliver does not change.” Beth shook her head. “Excuse me. I’ve no patience for fantasy today.”
“I didn’t mean to dredge up the past Beth, but Blythe mentioned she discovered you alone with Oliver in a locked room.” Tobias caught her arm when she would have left him. “You could have a choice in this if you spoke to Leopold about it. Oliver may act in ignorance at times but he does know the proprieties must be observed with a lady.”
A hot wave of shame flooded her face as she shook off Tobias’s grip. “I hope I misunderstand your meaning, sir. What you suggest, trapping him into a marriage with a blatant lie, is the act of a despicable woman.”
Tobias glanced at his brother, his expression thoughtful, and Beth took the opportunity to bolt from the room. She hurried to a small alcove she’d stumbled on one day and hid herself amid the folds of heavy curtains. When she’d been young, only a few had known the state of her heart. She’d loved Oliver with a girl’s blind passion. Blind to his faults, blind to his indifference, blind to the fact he would never consider her for his wife. It had taken one painful afternoon to learn why her hopes would never be. He considered a wife and family a millstone about his neck and an end to his dreams. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on the private conversation, but from that moment on her hopes had been doomed.
So when William Turner had come calling, she’d encouraged him. And when he spoke to her father about a marriage she had not said no. Oliver had no response either way to her wedding plans and so she’d become Mrs. Turner rather than Mrs. Randall. Her dreams had died that day.
She pressed her back against the wall and held her breath as footsteps hurried past. Three, she suspected. Tobias, George, and Oliver?
They continued without pause and Beth covered her face to stifle a sob. Misery had never been too far away and it appeared there was more coming. She wiped at her eyes, brooding on her future. What was she to do in America? She knew nothing of the place save that it was populated by savages that took scalps. She shuddered. How could Henry suggest they face such a danger?
The curtains brushed her arm and she looked up. Oliver stood three feet away. She hadn’t even heard him coming.
“Come with me.” He held out his hand. “Please.”
The courtesy tumbled from his lips awkwardly as she shook her head. He caught her hand and tugged her into the open, hands shifting to touch her spine and propel her down the hall. “I’ve something to show you that may help you make your decision.”
She stopped resisting and moved forward, curious about his insistence. It wasn’t like him to involve himself in other people’s affairs, but he’d become rather obnoxious with his questions of late. When servants appeared before them, going about their tasks, his touch dropped away but he remained close to her side, shoulder brushing hers occasionally. He led her to the library and to the far corner where a small spiral staircase stood. “The duke has an extensive collection. The section concerning America is up one level.”
“Where’s George?”
“Tobias was restless and they’ve gone out for a long walk. They promised to return at four for tea.”
Beth had never spent much time in the library because of Oliver’s constant presence and had never ventured up the stairs. She shouldn’t be alone with Oliver. She had a reputation to maintain, but the lure of information convinced her the risk to her reputation was worth it.
Oliver gave her a little push, nudging her toward the spiral staircase. The stairs were steep and she had to raise her skirts high with one hand to manage them. Halfway up, he drew closer and gathered the rest of her skirts in his hands. “You won’t fall, I promise.”
Beth hurried up as quickly as she could manage and when she made the top she spun around, keeping her back pressed against the bookshelves. Did he deliberately ignore the rules of how proper people should behave? Yet Oliver made no further move to touch her. He scanned the shelves instead, long fingers running over the spines and plucking volumes from their perches. He thrust three books toward her. “These will do to start. I’ll also peruse the newssheets and see what recent events are reported.”
Then he returned below, pulling papers from a pile on a far table without a backward glance. He spread them out one by one, fingers running over the pages so swiftly that she was sure he could not possibly be reading them. Some he kept, some he discarded, never looking up to see if she needed assistance with the climb down. Since Beth didn’t believe she could manage the stairs, her skirts, and the books on her own, so she sank onto the carpeted rug that covered the walkway floors and opened the first book.
An hour must have flown while she read in her private bird’s-nest perch. There was so much to learn and she was grateful for Oliver’s assistance. He’d given her two slim volumes containing travelers’ recounting and a much-needed book of maps so she might understand the geography. The world intruded and she glanced down at the library floor as another voice joined with Oliver’s in conversation. He and Eamon strolled the room, talking quietly.
Oliver wore another frown. “And you’re sure?”
“Oh, yes. No doubt about it,” Murphy replied. “He’s not staying at the Vulture, but he’s been there toasting the locals and spreading his blunt thickly every night. He’s quite taken with discussing the past and the changes he’s missed.”
They paused right beneath her. “And his servants? What do they say about their employer?”
“Not much. Got the feeling Turner took them on after he arrived back in
England. He’s got rather odd views about women. Expects them to act prim, but I heard he likes it rough between the sheets.”
Beth’s eyes widened and she quickly covered her lips with her hand to prevent a sound leaving her mouth. Murphy mustn’t know she was in the room or he would never have spoken so carelessly about another man’s bedding habits. She slid the book to the floor at her side and crawled forward to catch anything else that might help her deal with her brother-in-law.
“He’s got one man with him, Fielding, who’s calling the shots most of the time,” Murphy continued. “Fielding’s not a man you’d want to cross. He’s got a fighter’s stance and remarkably light fingers, too.”
“Are you sure?”
“Saw him lift a pocket watch from Brown with my own eyes.”
Oliver stared at Murphy, a wide smile lifting the corners of his mouth so he looked far younger and far more devilish than she knew him to be. “Did you retrieve it?”
Murphy brushed lint from his sleeve. “Of course. Might be a touch out of practice, but I remember everything you taught me. The ribbon trick never fails to impress the ladies by the way. Thank you for that.”
Beth shifted closer to the railing and a floorboard creaked beneath her. She flattened herself on the floor, hoping the intricate metal railings still hid her from view. What might she miss if she gave herself away? Did Oliver really know how to pick pockets? And why would he take ladies’ ribbons? He barely noticed women.
Oliver coughed suddenly. “Interesting.”
“’Ere now, you’re not getting ill are you? I only agreed to go if you were well,” Murphy said, concern ringing in his tone.
“It’s just the dust.” Oliver slapped a hand to Murphy’s shoulder and steered him across the room toward the door, pulling a paper from his coat pocket. “I’m improving every day. I thought this list might help you prepare for the journey.”
Murphy studied the paper, brows drawn together as he read. Eventually he nodded. “Thank you. Wasn’t sure what to take but now I know.”
Guarding the Spoils (The Wild Randalls - Book 3) Page 10