Page 66 of The Truth About Lord Stoneville
Oliver and Minerva both laughed. Mrs. Plumtree did not. She was as silent as death beside Maria, clearly scandalized by the entire conversation.
“Why do boys always feel an urgent need to create a mess others are forced to clean up?” Minerva asked.
“Because they know how much it irritates us,” Maria said.
“I don’t know how Oliver turned into such a scapegrace.” Mrs. Plumtree surprised them all by breaking her silence. “At fourteen he was a perfect gentleman—rode out with his father to visit the tenants, spent hours with the steward learning how to balance the accounts . . .”
“I wasn’tthatperfect, Gran,” Oliver said, an edge to his voice. “I had my faults.”
“None of real consequence until after your parents—”
“Have you forgotten the trouble I got into at Eton before then?” Oliver said.
“Pish, that was nothing. Boyish shenanigans after you took up with those other rascals. When you came home for the holidays, you behaved like a dutiful son and the future heir to a great estate. You applied yourself to your studies and sought to improve the house. You were a responsible young man.”
“You have no idea what I was,” he hissed. “You never did.”
The harsh words reverberated in the coach. Maria felt Mrs. Plumtree stiffen beside her, and her heart went out to the woman. Oliver’s grandmother might be too aware of her own consequence, and she might have some draconian ideas about how her grandchildren’s lives should play out, but anyone could see that she cared about them in her own way.
Oliver took a shuddering breath. “Forgive me,” he said tightly. “That was uncalled for.”
“It certainly was,” Maria said. “She was saying nice things about you.”
His gaze shot to her. “She was pointing out, yet again, how I’ve failed my family.”
“If you don’t like it,” Maria countered, “why don’t youstopfailing them?”
“Touché, Maria,” Minerva said softly.
Gritting his teeth, Oliver turned his gaze out the window, no doubt wishing he could be well away from them all. And as he retreated into himself, Minerva began to tell one story after another about Oliver as a boy.
Maria didn’t want to be enchanted by them, but shecouldn’t help herself. She laughed at the tale of how he’d fallen into the pond in front of Halstead Hall while trying to “charm” fish into the boat the way Indians charmed snakes out of their baskets. She triednotto laugh at the one where he coaxed Gabe into sharing Gabe’s piece of cake by claiming that it might have been poisoned, requiring Oliver to “taste it and make sure it was safe.”
But the tale about some lad pulling five-year-old Minerva’s hair, and Oliver jumping to her rescue by punching Minerva’s attacker, made Maria want to cry. The Oliver who’d defended his sister still existed—she glimpsed him from time to time. So where had the other, carefree Oliver gone? His siblings didn’t seem nearly as bitter over the tragedy of their parents’ deaths as he. Was it simply because he’d been older? Or did something else about it plague him?
A sudden jolt made her glance out the window. They were already in town and she hadn’t noticed, too caught up in Minerva’s tales. Now they were stopped in a queue of other vehicles on a gaslit street with a row of amazingly lavish houses. This must be the wealthy part of London.
“Ah,” Mrs. Plumtree said, “we’re nearing Foxmoor’s. I should have known there would be a crush.” She fixed her gaze on Oliver. “I suppose you mean to scandalize society by announcing your betrothal to Miss Butterfield tonight.”
“Of course,” Oliver said, without a trace of irritation. “Unless you’d rather do it yourself. I’m more than happy to hand the office over to you, Gran. Maria and I will justnod and smile while you get all the glory for making the match.”
Mercy. Talk about throwing down the gauntlet.
Mrs. Plumtree’s mouth fell open. Then snapped shut. When she spoke again, her voice sounded strained, though Maria could have sworn she caught a gleam in the elderly lady’s eye. “Perhaps I will. God knows you won’t do it properly.”
“Go ahead.” His eyes said,I dare you.
There was a trace of smugness on his face now, as if he knew he was on the verge of winning.
A tense quiet fell over the carriage. Clearly Mrs. Plumtree and Oliver were each waiting for the other to back down.
Then the carriage halted before the mansion, and the moment was broken. A footman scurried to put down the step and open the door. Oliver got out to help each of them down.
As Oliver took Maria’s arm and led her up the entrance steps, she whispered, “You’re playing with fire. Your grandmother just might go through with it.”
“Not on your life,” he whispered back. “You don’t know Gran like I do.” He patted her hand. “She’ll never make the announcement. You’ll see.”
Maria sneaked a glance back at Mrs. Plumtree, and her heart sank. The woman wore a secretive smile, though she wiped it off her face as soon as she caught Maria’s eye on her. Uh-oh. That boded ill for Oliver’s plans.
