Rome, with her classical ruins and spluttering volcano, was his ultimate destination. The thought of seeing both had kept him alive. They didn’t understand. Without those marvels to explore before him, he had no reason to exist.
Chapter Two
“I SWEAR THAT man is impossible!”
Beth Turner didn’t have to raise her head from her embroidery to understand exactly which gentleman Lady Venables referred to. In her experience, Oliver Randall had a profoundly unsettling effect on everyone he met and he’d been in fine form during dinner. Perhaps it was how his deep brown eyes stared through a person or how he paused so long before making any response. Beth had become accustomed to the way Oliver judiciously weighed his answers before speaking long ago. He never said what was on his mind without due consideration and inner debate. But neither the duchess nor the countess had grown used to his ways yet.
“Do not distress yourself, my lady,” Beth soothed. “At least Oliver is well enough to come down now.”
The countess continued to pace, moving behind Beth’s chair and occasionally tapping the carved wood. “Well, it is very annoying. Attending dinner and being agreeable enough to converse is hardly considered a chore in civilized circles. How does he imagine he’ll get on? Does he plan to speak to no one, or just carelessly offend them all?”
Beth pressed her lips together to cover an unwise response. What went on within the Randall family was none of her concern. She shouldn’t interfere even if she had an idea of how to head off future discord. But it would be best if they reconciled to the fact that Oliver Randall was incapable of doing exactly as he pleased and damn the consequences.
The duchess caught her sister’s hand, forcing her to cease her pacing. “Blythe, dear, do stop fretting about him.”
The calmly spoken words gave Beth hope that they would move on to another topic quickly. One more suited to her immediate needs.
The countess dropped into a chair and picked up a fan, idly waving it before her face. “Yes, well, I suppose you are correct. I shouldn’t vex myself.”
The duchess’s eyes narrowed. “What was Oliver’s disposition like before, Mrs. Turner? Did you know him well? Is he much changed by his time in Skepington?”
Pain caught Beth unaware. When she was young and unmarried, she’d thought she had known his character best of all the gentlemen she’d met. But she’d fooled herself quite thoroughly. She pulled her stitch tight before answering and smoothed out the shirt she was mending for her son. “Not well, but he is little changed from what I remember.”
Lady Venables’s fan snapped shut. “And Mrs. Randall put up with his rudeness without a word of protest?”
A smile pulled at Beth’s lips at the memory of the late Mrs. Jane Randall, furious over a birthday dinner ruined because of Oliver’s tardiness. Mrs. Randall had possessed quite the temper when pressed beyond endurance. “I don’t think that statement is entirely accurate. They did each inherit more than a passing amount of her character.”
The duchess sighed. “I do wish I could have met her. From all I hear she was an outstanding woman.”
Beth’s smiled dimmed as she returned to her needlework. “She was wonderful.”
> “Tobias says much the same,” Lady Venables murmured. “Mercy, when will you send invitations for the wedding?”
Beth’s attention was drawn to the mantel clock and she counted the minutes since their arrival. Although she strained to hear, she detected no sound of approaching servants. That could only be in her favor.
The duchess groaned. “Very soon. It all depends, of course, on securing a reliable and efficient housekeeper. I cannot invite anyone without filling the position.”
The sisters exchanged a look full of understanding and Beth dropped her gaze to her work, stomach churning into knots. If all went well, she hoped she would be the housekeeper of Romsey when the wedding date came around.
The countess stood suddenly and jerked the bell repeatedly. “Have you had any likely candidates for the position yet?”
“A few.” Her Grace let out an undignified huff and flopped back into her chair. “It seems finding just the right person on short notice was an impossible dream. Everyone we have interviewed has not suited my needs. If not for Mrs. Turner’s assistance these past weeks, I am sure the abbey would have fallen into complete disarray.”
Beth steadied her nerves. She shouldn’t be ecstatic that the tea was so late in arriving, but that did work in her favor. This lapse could only strengthen the proposition she would make to the duchess about the housekeeper’s role. The new servants were still finding their feet and required someone competent to guide them.
So far, Beth had enjoyed the challenges she’d met assisting the duchess in running the abbey. She would like to continue on a permanent basis. Beth set her needlework aside, heart beating faster. “Thank you, Your Grace. Perhaps I can offer a suggestion with regard to the vacant housekeeper position.”
The duchess met her gaze directly, appearing eager to have all her problems solved with as little disruption to her life as possible. “You have my complete attention, my dear,” she said.
“I should like to suggest myself as the new housekeeper of Romsey Abbey,” Beth said boldly, hoping she was not about to be laughed at.
The duchess’s mouth fell open. Silence held for a long, anxious moment. “Absolutely not,” she cried out eventually.
“No. Never.” Lady Venables agreed. “The situation is not so desperate as all that.”
Beth clenched her hands together. “I have been giving the matter a good deal of thought and it seems the perfect solution to all our problems. The duchess requires a competent woman to run her house and servants and I need the security of a secure position for my son. Surely you can see the sense of it. Small matters, such as delivering tea after dinner, are a regular part of your routine and there is no reason for mistakes of that kind.”
The duchess closed her eyes. “I see the sense in having a woman I trust run my house. However, if you were to assume such a position then your circumstances and status would change considerably.”