Those pale green eyes of hers fascinated him. They showed everything she felt at any given moment. She desired him. She enjoyed kissing him. How much more he could experience would depend on her and his patience. Every desire uncovered was swiftly followed by guilt lit large across her face. Did she feel she’d been unfaithful? Tobias assumed she did and that was why he could break away so easily.
Thanks to his past, he knew nothing good ever came easily. He had the distinct feeling that having Blythe into his bed would certainly be worth the wait.
When she sunk another, her face broke out into the widest grin he’d ever seen cross her face without the young duke being present. She was lovely when she smiled. Beautiful and true. A faithful, exciting woman.
She missed the next shot and her smile dimmed.
Tobias stepped up to the table at her side. “Bad luck, my lady. You were doing so well, too.”
Her smile returned. “That’s the best run I’ve ever had.”
He nodded rather than answer. He didn’t want her pleasure in the game to disappear too quickly once she’d realized she was feeling happy. When he took aim, his shot went wide. Damn. Her good mood must be the distraction. He was usually a little better than this or he wouldn’t have suggested a game in the first place.
She took her shot, sank two balls easily, but when it was his turn she stopped him. “You’re not holding the cue stick properly.”
“Oh,” Tobias said as he straightened. He’d thought he’d copied Leopold’s grip perfectly. “What am I doing wrong?”
She touched his hand, the one at a distance from the tip and wriggled her fingers beneath his. “You look awkward. You’re arms are long. You should hold the cue further down so your strike will be true and strong.”
He shifted his hand to the end. “Like this?”
Her hand slid over the back of his as she nodded. “Now try.”
He would if she would let him go. Eventually she snatched her hand back, granting Tobias his freedom. He approached the table again, getting used to the different grip. As he stretched out over the table, he did notice the difference. His shoulders were more relaxed with this posture. He lined up to take the shot and for a change landed a solid hit. Satisfaction flooded him as a colored ball wobbled on the threshold and then fell into a pocket.
“Well done.”
He looked back over his shoulder. Blythe grinned at his success. He straightened and moved toward her. Her eyes widened, her cheeks reddened, her lips parted. Although tempted to kiss her again, he merely stroked his fingertip over her cheek. “Thank you, B.”
“You have another shot to take,” she said suddenly, backing away.
Two steps forward, one step back. The game to bed the countess would not be won by rushing. He’d be patient, especially when the prize was so great. They finished without further incident and, true to his word, Blythe did win the game fairly.
Thirteen
“Thank you.” Blythe heaved a heavy sigh as the last pin secured her hair. “You may return to the duchess.”
The maid, her most recent replacement attendant since the ‘incident’, scurried for the door and the implied safety of being as far away from Blythe as possible. None of the Romsey servants bothered to hide their nervousness in her presence. The footmen merely stared. But even that scrutiny set her teeth on edge.
She gave her appearance another quick glance and stepped out into the hall. A servant standing down the hall hurried away and disappeared into the servant’s staircase. Annoyed, Blythe clenched her fists. She wished she could return to the comfort of Walden Hall and her own servants. However, Venables would arrive sometime today and any peace the place might offer would vanish as if it had never been.
Before she had taken too many steps, Tobias’ door opened and he joined her. Her heart skipped a beat at the way he smiled.
He bowed. “Good morning, Lady Venables. How are you this fine day?”
She glanced at him. “It is drizzling rain outside, Mr. Randall.”
His lips quirked. “So, no jaunts in your little carriage today?”
“Not today. I do hope the weather eases before the soiree tonight. I do want the evening to be a success for Lady Dunwoody.”
“You had to remind me?”
Blythe pressed her lips together to hide her amusement. It was a soiree, not a public hanging. The evening should be extremely pleasant and she was looking forward to catching up with friends. While she loved her sister dearly, Romsey Abbey and the goings on here made her anxious.
As they reached the head of the stairs, Tobias slipped his hand under her elbow. “You didn’t answer me yesterday, about the dancing. Will you dance with me tonight? I should like that very much.”
Blythe swallowed as his grip firmed, conveying his determination to make her answer. “It is not necessary but if you insist, then yes, I will dance with you. But not the first or second set. You must dance with Mercy before you dance with me.”
His eyes lit up with mischief. “So I’ve been told. How about the dance before supper?”
Blythe nodded, even as she feared her actions would spark even more rumors. After the dance ended, Tobias would escort her into supper, wait on her, and then sit at her side while they ate. People would remark upon their interactions, and they might speculate. What had she agreed to?
She looked ahead resolutely as they gained the lower floor and headed toward the breakfast room. A young boy, unfamiliar to Blythe, sat alone on a wooden bench placed in the hall. He glanced at them and then quickly looked down at his feet.
Tobias squeezed her elbow, but she shrugged. She didn’t have the faintest clue who he was.
Another few paces along, Wilcox materialized before them. “Excuse me, Lady Venables, but Mr. Randall requests you join him in the study.”
Blythe nodded, but then she realized Tobias still held her. She couldn’t shake him off without Wilcox noticing. “I’ll be there directly.”
Wilcox bowed and then disappeared back the way he’d come.
“King Leopold calls,” Tobias muttered softly.
Blythe thought the nickname quite apt. “I’ve no idea what he can want with me at this hour, but I’d better get any unpleasantness out of the way.”
As she moved away, her skin tingled from the loss of contact. She strove to shake off those feelings as she knocked on the heavy wooden door.
“Come,” Leopold Randall called.
Blythe let herself in, at once annoyed by the command in Leopold’s voice and curious by the summons. A pretty blonde woman sat before his desk. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, thank you for coming so promptly. I’d like to introduce you to Mrs. Turner, an old acquaintance of mine.”
The woman stood up, her hands clenched together. Blythe knew of the widow by reputation, but they had not met prior to this occasion. There was no need. They were not of the same circles. Blythe nodded. “Mrs. Turner.”
The woman bobbed a surprisingly elegant curtsey. “My lady.”
“Mrs. Turner was married to my old friend, but he’s since passed on. She has a boy to care for. I imagine you passed him in the hall.”
Ah, that explained the boy, but not the reason for this meeting. “I did. How can I help you, Mr. Randall?”
Leopold set his hands to an unoccupied chair set before the desk. “Will you join us?”
She sat and waited for Leopold to seat himself. He leaned forward, hands clenched. “I was wondering, Lady Venables, if you might be able to help me make this woman see reason. As I mentioned, her husband was an old friend and I want to ensure that his widow and son are properly provided for.”
“And the problem is?”
“She refuses to take my money.”
Blythe faced the woman and raised a brow.
Mrs. Turner scowled. “We are not Mr. Randall’s responsibility. I came because Eamon Murphy led me to believe there was an urgent matter Mr. Randall wished to discuss. I cannot take any more charity from him
without causing the worst sort of gossip.”
Blythe faced Leopold again. “What has been done so far?”
Leopold picked up a stack of papers and shuffled them restlessly. “The house is in good repair now, but I want to do more.”
Beth Turner shook her head. “Mr. Randall, you should know that some forms of charity can leave a certain tarnish on a woman’s reputation, no matter the good intentions it was offered under.”
“She is correct about that,” Blythe said quietly. Too much charity caused uncomfortable talk, especially when the woman was a pretty widow.
Leopold scowled at them both. “The boy needs a tutor in order to make something of himself.” His jaw clenched stubbornly giving Blythe the impression that it was something he’d already declared repeatedly prior to her arrival. Blythe’s respect for Mrs. Turner rose a notch. It would be hard to turn down such a generous offer of financial assistance.
“Mr. Randall, please understand that I am grateful for all you have done, but our lives are set on a different path. You’ve done more than enough.”
Leopold slammed the papers down. “I disagree. If Ollie was here he’d tell you the odds are against you and the boy thriving as you are.”
The mention of the missing brother surprised Blythe. What exactly was this woman to the Randall family that Oliver was mentioned so earnestly?
Mrs. Turner shook her head. “But he isn’t here and cannot confuse me with his statistics,” she said. “If he’d have anything to say in the matter that is.”
“He would want to see you happy.”
“Living off your charity will not make me so,” Mrs. Turner asserted.
They appeared to have reached an impasse and Leopold Randall appeared infuriated by Mrs. Turner’s stubborn refusal to take his aid. His jaw was set, his glare aimed squarely at Mrs. Turner.
Blythe wracked her brain, trying to think of a socially acceptable way for Leopold to do more, and for Mrs. Turner’s reputation to be unaffected by the charity. Mrs. Turner could go into service at Romsey, but if the woman was as good a friend as she was coming to believe, then such a fall would be a hard choice for the woman to make.
Mrs. Turner’s calm determination to refuse assistance added to Blythe’s respect for her. Some women would have taken what was offered and endured the gossip. But what other options were there?
Blythe pressed her hands to her lap, noticing her glove had begun to tear at the seam of one finger. A proper maid would have noticed and not handed them to her. If she had a decent ladies maid, her mornings might start off on a better note.
She stilled. An ordinary servant role wouldn’t do for the close friend of the Randall’s, but would Mrs. Turner turn down the superior position of lady’s maid or companion if one was offered? Blythe was not unnecessarily demanding, and the woman did not appear to be the flighty type. She might be poor, but her gown was well tended, her hair neatly pinned back, her voice refined. She could do very well as a companion.
Leopold tapped on the desk to draw her attention. “Have you thought of a solution, Lady Venables?”
She frowned. Leopold really did have all the makings of a lord. His impatience was irksome. “I may have, but it will depend on Mrs. Turner’s skills. Can you sew well, Mrs. Turner?”
A frown crossed her face, but she nodded.
“Can you get along well with others and not listen to gossip.”
“Oh,” Leopold said as he sat back in his chair. “I’d not thought of employing her as a maid.”
Mrs. Turner’s expression darkened.
Blythe lifted her hand to halt any protest before she finished explaining herself. “Not a common housemaid, Mr. Randall. No, that would never do. It is clear that Mrs. Turner is a cut above the average widow. I need someone who can dress my hair, organize my things as a lady’s maid would, but perhaps a companion would be a more accurate term. As you have frequently pointed out, I live alone and the extra company could benefit us both. There is also Her Grace’s wedding to organize in the near future. She could help Mercy with aspects of that. Being a friend of the Randall’s would ensure things are done properly.”
And also that gossip about the family remained within the family.
“That is a perfect solution.” Leopold’s lips curled into a smile as he faced Mrs. Turner. “You would have a worthy occupation as Lady Venables companion and all the necessities in life. I would have the satisfaction of knowing you are well cared for and your son can be educated here at Romsey when an appropriate tutor can be employed.”
Mrs. Turner blinked furiously and then turned her face away. After a time, when she didn’t turn back, Blythe cleared her throat. “The offer stands, Mrs. Turner, should you need time to consider the matter. I dislike discussing such matters, but the terms would be sixteen pound a year and eventually I will return to Walden Hall to live. There is ample room for your son. We can consider the first month here as a trial period, with pay, of course.” Blythe stood. “Shall I leave you to convince her, Mr. Randall?”
“Thank you, Blythe,” he said quietly. “I will certainly do my best in that regard.”
Blythe let herself out, bemused by the morning. She assessed Mrs. Turner’s son as she passed. He didn’t appear wild or sickly. He seemed to possess a great deal of patience as he waited and that was a rare thing in young boys. She nodded to him and then made her way to the morning room.
Tobias Randall pounced on her the minute she crossed the threshold. “What was that about? What did Leopold want?”
Blythe picked up a plate, grateful the servants were absent, and helped herself to the dishes on the sideboard. “He wanted my advice on a delicate matter.”
“How delicate?”
Blythe frowned at him as she took a seat. Tobias appeared out of sorts now. She set her hand to his clenched fist. “I understand that Mrs. Turner has refused Leopold’s charity. I think I was summoned to convince her to accept more. But he’s done more than he should have and has made her uncomfortable.”
“Beth Turner is here?”
When she nodded, Tobias jumped to his feet, chair scrapping harshly across the parquetry in his rush to leave the room. This Beth must be a favorite. A woman yelped and Tobias laughed. Curious, Blythe carefully set her cutlery down and crept to the doorway. She peered along the hall. The door to the study remained wide open and Tobias was spinning with Mrs. Turner in his arms. They stopped and he stared down at her a long time before he kissed her cheek.
Very good acquaintances.
Blythe hurried back to her seat as her stomach roiled. How could she have been taken in so completely about Mrs. Turner’s character? There was more to the family friendship than had been let on. Was Mrs. Turner a past love of Tobias’? She set her hand to her stomach as humiliation washed over her. She’d just offered the widow employment. Mrs. Turner would be free to continue any relationship with Tobias under this very roof.
But the offer of employment had already been voiced and she couldn’t go back on her word without good reason. Feeling the harsh bite of jealousy wasn’t reason enough and that wasn’t a pleasant sensation or one she’d expected to feel. She’d remain vigilant over the first month and if she detected any unbecoming flirting with Tobias then she would reconsider the situation. She couldn’t allow a woman she employed to engage in an affair with a man she’d kissed.
Blythe stared at her plate, but her appetite had fled. She picked at her meal as her sense of disquiet grew. She couldn’t hear Tobias anymore. As she got up to pour herself another cup of tea, the door closed behind her back. When it was locked, too, she spun about.
Tobias caught her in his arms. “Thank you. Leopold just told me the wonderful news. Beth accepted the post and will start today.”
His mouth met hers in a hard kiss.
Blythe pushed against his chest until he gave way. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough attention for one day?”
He frowned. “Not from you. Barely enough.” He pursued her around the
table as she backed away and she put a chair between them to gain a little breathing room. He confused her with his behavior. Was he that happy that his past love would be so close at hand? Perhaps she had misjudged what his kisses meant?
He stopped.
Blythe steadied herself by holding onto a chair. “I will expect Mrs. Turner to behave with the appropriate reserve while in my service.”
“Of course she will. Beth is a prime lass and full of fun. You two should be the best of friends in no time.”
“That remains to be seen.”
His head tilted to the side as he studied her. “My mother liked Beth immensely.”
A crushing weight of disappointment filled her heart. “Is that so?”
He nodded slowly. “She was often at Harrowdale and when she left to return home, my mother insisted she be escorted. I tagged along quite often.”
“Oh.”
Tobias skirted the chair and crowded Blythe against the table. “Now, where were we?” He drew in a deep breath. “God you smell good enough to eat.” His lips met Blythe’s in a soft kiss and despite her misgivings she couldn’t help but kiss him back. His hands settled on her hips and jerked her toward him. He tasted like toast and coffee. He tasted of warmth.
The locked door rattled behind him. Tobias drew back, brushed his finger across her bottom lip, and then gestured for her to return to her chair. When she’d sat, he hurried to open the door. “So sorry. Must have stuck.”
Wilcox glanced at him, distrust clear in his expression. “Is everything to your satisfaction, Lady Venables?”
Blythe hoped her cheeks were not as red as they felt. “Yes, thank you, Wilcox. Everything is perfect.”
A quick grin crossed Tobias’ face. Wilcox fussed at the sideboard and then withdrew.
Blythe picked up her silver. Would Tobias kiss her witless and carry on with another woman at the same time? She peeked at him and her pulse raced. He stood at the morning room window, staring out at the view of the east gardens. As there was nothing of particular interest in the east gardens, she was intrigued by what could capture his attention so thoroughly that he would keep his back to her for so long after such a kiss.
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