“Very well, my lady.” She stepped backward. “I will take my tea and return to collect him.”
Lydia smiled down at Ollie as the governess took her leave. So many changes might be exciting for him, but they might also be overwhelming.
Lowering herself onto a settee, she gestured for Ollie to take the place beside her. “Won’t you sit down with me?.”
He squirmed and tugged at his collar but did as she asked, those violet eyes flashing around the room, filled with curiosity.
“All of this is very different from what you are used to, isn’t it?” she asked.
He turned his gaze back to her. “I didn’t expect none of this.”
Taking responsibility for an orphan could not be so simple as this, could it? “I’m glad you decided to stay with his Lordship. I would have worried if you’d done otherwise.”
Ollie bounced restlessly, his hands flat beside him on the cushions. “When’s he sendin’ me back, do ya ken? I have to make sure me brother ain’t gettin' into too much barney.”
“Barney? I don’t know what you mean.” Nor had she realized he had a brother. “Does Lord Tempest know about your brother?”
“He does, m’lady. Says he’ll find him too. But I don’t think he can. If Buck don’t wanna be found, ain’t no one who can. Except for Farley. He can find anyone. He knows all the bloomin’ hidin’ places.”
“Does Buck need to hide a lot?” Ollie had mentioned this Buck boy before.
Ollie plucked a small figurine of two small boys off the table and rubbed his fingertips along the smooth carving. “Yeah, he does. He’s older than me.”
Ollie was worried about his brother. A brother, who, apparently, got into a good deal of barney.
“How old is Buck?”
“He’s four and ten.”
Five years older than Ollie; he must be considerably larger. And she remembered Ollie telling them that Buck had been the one to cause the bruises when they’d discovered him in the warehouse. “I’m sure Buck is fine, then. And if Lord Tempest says he’s going to find him, I’ve no doubt that he will.”
Ollie tilted his head sideways. “Buck’s always messin’ up. And fightin’ when I’m not there to talk him outta it. Got his face right cut up past winter.”
“You are not responsible for what your brother does,” Lydia said, patting his leg.
Ollie sighed, eyebrows crinkled in an expression that looked too old for his small face. “He’s my brother, I can’t help it.”
The floor creaked, and Lydia glanced up. She had not heard Jeremy enter the room. For a moment, his eyes looked almost haunted, but the expression flickered and disappeared when he dipped his chin in her direction.
Lydia licked her lips, staring at his bared arms where his shirt sleeves were rolled up. He must have been working in his study after all.
Every button on his silk gold waistcoat was fastened, and the bottoms of his buff breeches were neatly tucked into shining Hessians.
“Mr. Bartholomew informed me that you…” Jeremy gestured behind him somewhat helplessly. “I did not realize we had a meeting scheduled.”
“We did not,” Lydia said.
Jeremy cocked a brow in question.
“I came to have a visit withMaster Oliver,” she explained.
Nothing in the world could hold back her pleasure at Ollie’s elevated circumstances, but she could not tease Jeremy about this or gloat. What on earth had transpired to cause Jeremy to decide to raise Ollie as a ward and not a servant?
“Mrs. Mumford is waiting in the foyer for you, Oliver.” Jeremy’s voice was cool and commanding.
Ollie hopped up, but when he moved toward the door, Jeremy stopped him with a question. “Did your letters give you as much difficulty this morning?”
Ollie shook his head. “Not so hard as the day before. Yer tricks ya told me helped.”
