Page 93 of Rival to Resist
“Freddie!” she barked, striding toward him. “There you are.” She stopped, her eyes taking him in from head to toe. “You keep us waiting hours, only to show yourself in such a state!”
Smiling, Frederick went over and kissed her on the cheek. “I thought you were resting.”
“With seagulls cackling in my ear? Stop grinning like a fool, or I shall box your ears.”
Frederick tried dutifully to repress his grin. “One becomes accustomed to the gulls.”
“They shall become accustomed tomeif they wake me before ten!”
“If ’ee wish, ma’am,” Mrs. Tonkin said with more deference than Frederick had ever heard her use, “I can close the shutters.”
“Idowish,” Aunt Eugenia said.
Mrs. Tonkin was not put off by this abrupt response—she looked rather admiring, in fact. Perhaps she had met her match.
“It is very good of you, ma’am,” William said in an attempt to soften Aunt Eugenia’s order.
Mrs. Tonkin’s face colored up, and she lowered her eyes. “It be a pleasure to serve ’ee, Your Grace, at our ’umble inn.”
Frederick listened to this response with a slack jaw. Whowasthis woman? And what had she done with Mrs. Tonkin?
23
CAROLINE
Caroline stewed all evening and into the next morning over how to handle Oswald’s approaching call. The length of their friendship demanded she give him the benefit of the doubt regarding the question of the stile and the threat to Mrs. Tonkin.
But things had been…different between them lately. Less harmonious. She had forgiven but not forgotten his conversation with the vicar. It still troubled her, if she was being honest with herself and him.
She had always thought of Oswald as a likeminded friend. But perhaps she had assumed too much—assumed an understanding that did not exist. And if that was so, it was critical that she be direct with him, as Frederick had always said. If they were to have an effective patron-candidate relationship, their friendshiphadto be able to withstand frankness.
It was nearly eleven o’clock when Oswald was shown into the drawing room.
They traded stilted pleasantries for a few minutes, which was followed by an uncomfortable silence.
There was no use putting it off any longer.
“Oswald, why did you not correct me when I assumed the stile was your doing?”
He went still for a moment, then pressed his lips together. “I was ashamed I had forgotten the matter—again—and after you had just forgiven my conversation with the vicar. I did not wish to disappoint you again.”
She was grateful he was accepting responsibility, but that did not erase that hehadforgotten about the gate, despite reminders from her. He knew how troubled she had been over her friend’s distress, and she had hoped he would exert himself to rectify the situation—a situation he had created.
But he had not rectified it. And he had accepted credit when Frederickhadexerted himself.
“You are upset,” he said.
“Do you know whowasresponsible for the stile?”
He shook his head.
“Mr. Yorke.”
Oswald’s brows snapped together. “He did not have permission to?—”
“Are you angry he trespassed, Oswald? Or that he did what you should have done?”
His mouth drew into a grim line. “I suppose I should congratulate him for managing to ingratiate himself with you.”
