Page 60 of Charity

Oscar sagged with relief. “Thank you.” He grinned. “Now, I should like to return to Agatha next door. Will you join us so we might share the good news about you officiating?”

“Ah, no. I’m afraid I shall not be able to see either you or Agatha until the funeral. I have some pressing business to attend to over the next day that cannot be delayed. Please pass along my regards and affections to your mother and Miss Birkenstock. I shall see you all very soon.”

When Lynton hurried out the door, he took Oscar’s optimism with him. It seemed that despite the fact that he would gladly make amends for ruining Agatha, some things were unforgivable—even to a father would not care to associate with him.

He strolled out his door, along the street, and climbed the stairs to Agatha’s house.

Agatha’s butler greeted him with a scowl. “Lady Carrington is waiting in the drawing room.”

Poor man. The butler was quite put out with him, too. Laying Birkenstock to rest and marrying Agatha couldn’t come soon enough. After that, someone besides Agatha might actually smile at him again.

“What did those old windbags want?”

Oscar grinned at his mother as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He hadn’t come up with a kind way of saying they had been shown the door because of his scandalous actions. He would break it to her gently after the funeral. “Nothing too serious, Mother. Just some paperwork to look over.”

“I expect they think I’ve deserted the enterprise. I’ll call there this afternoon.”

He sat beside her and took up her hand. “No need. They were quite adamant that you take all the time in the world. No point upsetting the children from their current routine.”

“Oh,” she whispered. The silence stretched. “They don’t want me to return, do they?”

He drew his wise, wise mother into his arms and gave her a hug. “Saying I’m sorry doesn’t seem enough, but I am. I had not anticipated they would condemn you, too, because of my actions.”

She sniffed. “I suppose if I had disowned you, as you gave me leave to do, they would have tolerated me. But I worry for Agatha. Being here so often lends her what little support I can.”

“She appreciates it, even if she has not shown how much. In time, her grief will lessen and she’ll be more herself around you.”

His mother gave him an amused glance. “Agatha and I are not such strangers that I would easily take offense. She is much caught up in her grief, and I would be a poor mama-in-law to deny her time to cry. Was Manning with the trustees?”

“Yes. Lynton was among them.”

“And?”

Oscar drew her into his arms again and squeezed. “Oh, Mother. Your love life is a bigger mess than mine. My father sends his affections and regards to you and Agatha. I did remember my manners and asked him to call on you here, but he had other business to tend. We will see him at Mr. Birkenstock’s funeral and after.”

“After?”

Oscar settled back in the chair and crossed his legs at the ankle. “Yes, of course. Agatha and I want him to marry us, and he has consented.”

A deep frown line creased her brow. “Then he hasn’t left the church yet.”

“No. He never said anything about it. He’s consented to obtain a special license for us, with the duke’s assistance if it is required. Once he has that, I expect to be wed as soon as possible.”

His mother huffed, a bitter sound. “Should have known he’d pretend to be leaving the church to get on my good side.” She stood. “I’m going upstairs to sit with Thomas.”

Before she reached the door, Oscar called out. “I say, Mother, does Lynton really have property in Oxfordshire?”

“He did once. Why?”

“Because he claims the duke will want me to live there. If that happens, will you come and live with us?”

His mother swayed, and then righted herself. “Two women under the same roof makes for a disharmonious household, Oscar. I shall be all right on my own. Excuse me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A cold wind blew through the churchyard, hurrying more than one mourner across the grounds toward the grave where Agatha wept at Oscar’s side. For all his lower birth, it seemed Thomas Birkenstock had been well liked. There were faces there Oscar didn’t recognize. Some he did. The Earl of Daventry was there, a bookseller from Bond Street standing beside him. At the back of the crowd, Oscar spied Leopold Randall, trying his best to keep his presence as unobtrusive as possible and still pay his respects.

Lynton Manning kept the graveside service brief, his words uplifting despite the sad occasion. Oscar appreciated that for Agatha’s sake. She was taking the loss of her grandfather very hard. Her loss of appetite and lack of decent sleep shrouded her features with sorrow.