Page 22 of Charity

When he was gone, Oscar’s mother sighed. “You know the truth, don’t you?”

Oscar nodded without meeting her gaze.

“Thank you for your understanding, Oscar. Although it is none of your affair who I see, Thomas has been worried how you might take the news of our association.”

Oscar smiled, but inside an appalling thought had presented itself. What if his mother and Mr. Birkenstock married? He could become related to Agatha, and not in a way he cared to entertain—to see her with family about them each holiday. Could he bear it?

Oscar shook his head to toss away the idea. His mother would never consider marriage again. She’d been more than clear on that score over the years since his father’s death. He could not believe any man could capture her affections. She was too fond of the social whirl to buckle under a man’s rule again. He remembered the disagreements between his parents when he was a child. His father had been an extremely hard man to please. He’d been jealous of every petty compliment she received and had always claimed his mother encouraged flattery. No, Oscar couldn’t believe her affair with Birkenstock would lead to marriage. But everything else he could be deaf and blind to.

A movement at the door caught his eye. Oscar waved Mr. Manning in then flipped open his pocket watch. “You are right on time, sir. Please, take a seat.”

Manning sank into the chair Thomas Birkenstock had just vacated and turned his gaze on Oscar’s mother. She squirmed and refused to look in his direction. “Essy.”

“Mr. Manning.” She stood, and Oscar stood, too. The rector climbed to his feet leisurely, and when she made a move to pass his chair, Manning snagged the edge of her gown, letting it slip through his fingers as she passed.

He watched her depart then turned a rueful smile on Oscar. “Your mother is such a lovely woman. She is little changed from the happy girl I knew in my younger days. She was quite a catch, even then, and believe me, I tried.”

Oscar dropped to his chair in shock. Did his mother have two men chasing after her? And one of them the most moral vicar he’d ever met. Oscar coughed. “You knew my mother when she was a younger woman?”

“Since I was in short pants. Long before she married. We were…close, friends, once.”

A regretful smile crossed Manning’s lips—a bittersweet remembrance? Oscar started to feel distinctly uncomfortable about his mother’s love life. Just how many beaux did she have dangling on her arm this season? Surely one was enough. “I’d not heard that.”

“I am not surprised.” Manning shrugged. “She will deny any history exists between us, but she made an irreversible impression on me and I’ve never forgotten her.”

“I see,” he said carefully. “Forgive me but I have never once noticed she had any particular interest in you, or remarriage.”

Manning shrugged. “I intend to change her mind and persuade her to a permanent alteration in her status.”

Oscar passed a hand over his mouth to hide a grimace. His mother was headed for a week-long sojourn in the countryside with her lover, Thomas Birkenstock, and the rector of St. George’s was telling him he planned to court her for marriage. This could only descend into social disaster for the family—something he’d been raised to take great pains to avoid.

Perhaps he should attempt to subtly discourage Manning. “That might prove more complicated than you believe,” he murmured.

Manning merely smiled at his warning, an expression that boded ill for his mother and anyone who stood in his way. But that smile triggered a memory he couldn’t seem to place. It reminded him of someone he knew, but the name presently escaped him.

“You wished to see me, Mr. Manning?” Agatha stood poised at the doorway, keeping her gaze firmly on the rector, ignoring Oscar’s existence completely.

Manning gestured for her to come closer. “Yes, child. I thought that since Lord Carrington has become involved in the orphanage that he should be given a tour by the one person who knows the place so well. My lord, Miss Birkenstock has investigated every nook and cranny of the house, and can give you a detailed history of the improvements made over the years.”

Agatha’s face flushed at the compliments. “Of course, I would be happy to.” However, she looked anything but pleased.

Manning chuckled. “Well, now that is settled, I shall leave you to the grand tour. Carrington. Miss Birkenstock.”

Manning departed, leaving them alone. “Good morning, Miss Birkenstock. Please be assured that I had no idea Manning would do that to you. I assumed he was here to offer advice as so many of the trustees are apt to do.”

Agatha scowled. “Good morning, my lord. If you would please follow me.”

Without waiting to see if he was ready now, Agatha disappeared beyond the door. Oscar rushed to follow and found her waiting upon the first landing above his head. She appeared, at first glance, impassive, yet her hostile gaze spoke volumes. Oscar interpreted her gaze to mean that he was to behave and to keep a distance.

He tucked his hands behind his back and hurried upstairs.

The tour was conducted with excruciatingly polite conversation. He saw the linen closets, the children’s dreary, cold bedchamber, the schoolroom, and the servants’ quarters in quick succession. He supposed he should have concentrated on every word Agatha uttered. However, the lingering scent of roses tickled his nose, reminding him that all but twelve hours had passed since he’d held her in his arms, their bodies fused together as passion took them to new heights.

Agatha turned. Sunlight pierced through the cloudy sky at that moment, falling through the window and striking her in brilliant light. She looked heavenly, and without caution, Oscar approached until a bare inch separated them.

Time stilled, and then Agatha stepped back and around him, pacing away to put a respectable distance between them again. “Did you wish to see the cellar, my lord?”

Oscar cursed under his breath at his foolishness. “Will there be rats?”