Guarding the Spoils (The Wild Randalls - Book 3) (14 page)

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.”

Oliver smiled. “Can’t have you leaving without your smalls.”

“I’m sure the ladies we might meet won’t mind that at all,” Murphy grinned. “What should I do now?”

Oliver glanced up, catching her eye briefly before he looked away again. But that look told her he was dissatisfied with what he’d heard. “Nothing. But keep your ears open and keep me informed of any new information.”

When Murphy hurried away, Oliver slowly returned and climbed up the stairs. Beth sat up and smoothed her skirts to neatness again, only a little ashamed that she’d been eavesdropping on another of Oliver’s conversations. The last time her heart had broken and she’d rushed away. This time, she had the courage to stay and demand an explanation. “Why would Murphy spy on Henry?”

“Because I asked him to follow your brother-in-law and report any discrepancies in his behavior or the stories he tells.” He sat on the top step, very close to her feet, and Beth’s heart tumbled over.

She clasped her sweaty hands together. “Why would you want to know more about Henry?”

His brow creased into a frown and he dropped his gaze to her fingers. She forced herself to still her fidgeting as he shifted closer. “I don’t trust him,” he murmured.

She sighed. “I understand that you might find it difficult to trust after everything that has been done to yourself and your family. It’s quite understandable, really. But Henry is exactly as he presents himself. A little coarse, I concede. I understand that you want to keep your family safe from opportunists, but Henry has asked for nothing from the Randalls.”

He tilted his head. “He’s asked for you and for George.”

Beth laughed to break the mood. “I’m a servant, not a possession of the Randalls.”

“No. You are more than that,” he murmured softly. “You’re a friend.”

Beth shook her head. Oliver was the last person she expected to express sentimentality over her leaving. Very soon he would be going away and she would never see him again. She would never see if some other lady managed to capture his attention in a way she never could. Beth swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Rosemary’s friend,” she whispered.

His gaze burned into her and set her body aflame. “More than that.”

He didn’t move, only continued to watch her silently. Beth struggled for a reply that could turn this discussion to more impersonal subjects. She couldn’t bear to hear Oliver spell out in exact terms where she fitted into his definition of friendship. She didn’t want what was left of her heart broken again.

After a time, he gestured to the discarded book. “Enlightening?”

“Worrying,” she answered honestly.

Oliver reached over her lap for the book, fingers brushing her thigh in the process. The caress jolted her back to the present and her proximity to a man who couldn’t love her.

“Adventure does not have to be frightening,” he argued. “The more you know of a situation the better you will fare.”

He flipped a few pages and began to read aloud. As Oliver spoke, Beth relaxed a bit and shifted until she was comfortable, legs stretched out before her. He had an excellent speaking voice and warmed to his subject easily. Perhaps it was not fatherhood that Oliver would have excelled at, but teaching. That was definitely a profession he could have undertaken with ease.

She closed her eyes, listening with rapt enjoyment and, when Oliver fell silent, she reluctantly opened her eyes again. He watched her, studying her in his own direct way. For a change, she was not unnerved by his unwavering perusal. Not even when his hand covered her ankle quite improperly did she look away. She did stiffen when he caressed her calf, hand disappearing beneath the hem of her gown. She fell into his gaze as he continued the soft touch, only waking from her daze at a sound below. A maid laid a tea tray on a table and then quickly hurried out as if the devil lurked in the library.

Oliver shrugged, but he did not remove his hand. “I’m told I terrify them.”

His warmth seeped into her soul in a way she’d never imagined. Beth wasn’t in the mood for subtlety or lies. “It’s the way you stare at people for so long. We’re not only for your inspection.”

A brief smile twisted his lips. “There are many ways to learn about people.”

His hand slid up her calf again, his touch firm and warm as he traced the band of the garter tied beneath her knee. He reached as far as bare skin before she came to her senses and prevented further access. “You could always try simply talking to people,” she said quickly.

“This is more enjoyable, yes?” The teasing light that lit his eyes took her by surprise. Oliver was flirting? Who would have thought him capable? Not Beth, certainly. “Or is love essential for you to accept pleasure?”

She knocked his hand away and stood, making sure she kept out of range of his wandering hands this time. “What do you know about love?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “However, it did occur to me that your problems with Henry might disappear or be lessened if you remarried.”

“I wouldn’t marry anyone for that reason.” Beth swallowed the hard lump forming in her throat. “But I am fond of talking.”

He sighed. “Talking is not my strong suit.”

He stood too, collected her books, and swiftly descended the spiral. When he returned, without the books, he was even smiling. “Would you care to come down for tea?”

She nodded, uncertain of the man before her. Maybe he was changing, but why now when they were both going in different directions? When she arrived at the top of the stairs, he held out his hand and assisted her down to the library floor without another word, just in time for George’s return.

Before George, Beth could pretend that those kisses and caresses had never happened. He hurried to stand before the fireplace, rubbing his hands together vigorously. “There are kittens in the stables that you can pet, Mama. One is so new she’s barely able to walk.”

Beth ruffled his hair. “Before you ask, no, you may not have one.”

“Because we’re going to America.”

“Maybe your uncle will allow one there.”

George turned his gaze on Oliver. “Do
you
like kittens?”

“Only the busy ones that catch mice,” he remarked as he poured tea for everyone, getting their preferences correct even without asking—milk and sugar for George, black for Beth.

Beth arranged herself on the settee, expecting George to sit at her side and tell her about his walk, but he fell on the food, munching without a word. When Oliver took his place at her side, she tried to ignore the sudden flip of her heart. It wouldn’t do to appear too friendly with Oliver while around George. She did not want to add to her son’s mistaken belief that a marriage between herself and Oliver was possible, even for the benefit of travel. She shifted as subtly as she could until they were not so closely situated. Oliver foiled that by reclining and laying his arm across the back of the sofa.

“The papers on the desk, George, might interest you,” Oliver said. “I’ve found a selection that includes events from America that are worth reading.”

George crammed one last piece of cake into his mouth and almost ran to where Oliver sent him, essentially leaving them alone again.

“He’s a bright boy,” Oliver said gently. “I hope he has access to good teachers in your new place.”

“I’m sure Henry will see to his education.”