The Guardian's Dilemma. Gail Whitiker

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СКАЧАТЬ intend to send me where?’ she echoed in disbelief.

      ‘It is called Mrs Guarding’s Academy for Girls,’ Oliver informed her calmly. ‘I thought that since you did not have occasion to finish your lessons with Monsieur Deauvall and Miss Berkmore, you might welcome the opportunity to do so now.’

      ‘But I have no wish to go to school!’ Gillian cried petulantly. ‘I am nearly eighteen years of age, Oliver! I have far more important things on my mind than silly lessons. Mr Wymington says—’

      ‘I don’t give a…that is to say,’ Oliver said, catching himself just in time, ‘I don’t think anything Mr Wymington has to say on the matter is relevant, Gillian. I am your legal guardian and I will be the one to decide how and where you complete your education. And after due consideration, I have determined that the Guarding Academy is the place for you to do that.’

      Gillian stamped her dainty little foot and set her blonde curls dancing. ‘But I don’t want to go to any stuffy girls’ school!’

      ‘From all I’ve heard, the school is anything but stuffy. The headmistress is a female emancipationist and the teachers are all somewhat radical in their thinking. A young lady with your intelligence and personality should get on very well there.’

      ‘But I do not wish—’

      ‘Gillian, the discussion is at an end. We leave for Steep Abbot in a week’s time. I have already sent a letter to Mrs Guarding advising her of your enrolment, and have received a letter back confirming your place. I would advise you to make whatever arrangements you feel are necessary and then tell me when you are ready to depart.’

      Gillian’s face darkened. ‘What about Mr Wymington?’

      ‘What about him?’

      ‘Oh, how can you be so heartless, Oliver! You must know that I care for him. And it cannot have escaped your notice that he holds me in considerable esteem.’

      ‘It hasn’t escaped my notice at all, but neither has the fact that you are only seventeen.’

      ‘I shall be eighteen in January, but what has that to do with it? Jane Twickingham was betrothed to Lord Hough when she was only sixteen, and you have told me yourself she was a silly little chit. What has my age to do with Mr Wymington’s courting me?’

      Oliver’s eyes turned the colour of stone. ‘Since when did Mr Wymington’s visits take on the aspect of a courtship? He has not sought my permission to address you.’

      As if realising she had said more than she should, Gillian’s pretty cheeks flushed. ‘Well, no, of course not, because we are only acquaintances. But that is not to say that I…that is, that he—’

      ‘Gillian, what do you really know of Mr Wymington?’ Oliver asked, deciding to try a different approach. ‘That he is charming, I have no doubt. That he knows how to turn a young girl’s head, I have seen with my own eyes. But what do you know of the man’s character or background? Has he spoken to you of his family? Do you know where he comes from or who his people are?’

      ‘Of course I do.’ Gillian lifted her chin in defiance. ‘We have spoken of all those things. Mr Wymington has nothing to hide from me.’

      ‘Then what has he told you of himself?’

      ‘That his parents are dead, and that he has a sister living in Cornwall to whom he is not close. He also told me he has hopes of achieving a higher rank in the militia.’

      ‘I see. And what is he now—a lieutenant?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Has he the funds to purchase his next commission?’

      ‘I do not believe he has,’ Gillian admitted reluctantly, ‘but he did tell me he was like to come into a considerable amount of money.’

      Oliver was immediately on his guard. ‘Did he say how?’

      ‘Well, no, not precisely.’

      ‘Did he say when he might expect this good fortune?’

      Gillian coloured. ‘No, nor did I ask. Why should I when one day I shall have money enough for us both?’

      That was precisely what Oliver had been afraid of hearing. ‘And I suppose you told him that?’

      ‘Yes.’ Gillian’s golden brows drew together in a frown. ‘Why would I not?’

      Oliver suppressed a sigh. There was no point in answering the question. His naïve young ward might not realise how tempting was the carrot she dangled in front of Mr Wymington’s nose, but he certainly did. ‘I’m sorry, Gillian, my mind is made up. We leave for Steep Abbot in a week’s time. Say goodbye to whichever friends you wish to and then begin your preparations to leave.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘And you are not to see Mr Wymington again.’

      ‘But that is not fair, Oliver! Why can I not say goodbye to him? He is a friend, and you told me I may say goodbye to whomever I wished.’

      ‘You know very well I was not referring to gentlemen when I said that. You may write Mr Wymington a farewell note, but that is all. And I wish to read it before you send it away.’

      Oliver could see that Gillian was angry. There was a defiant sparkle in her bright blue eyes and her chin was thrust out in the gesture he had come to know so well.

      ‘I think you are being beastly about this, Oliver,’ she flung at him. ‘You are sending me away to some dreadful school because you do not like Mr Wymington and because you do not wish me to see him.’

      ‘I am sending you to Steep Abbot so that you may complete your education,’ Oliver replied with equanimity. ‘I do not share in the opinion that all a young lady need know how to do is arrange flowers and engage in polite conversation. You are far too bright for that, as you yourself have told me on more than one occasion.’

      ‘I do not have to listen to you!’

      ‘Ah, but you do. At least until the occasion of your twenty-first birthday. I promised your mother that I would look after you until that time, and I intend to keep my word. Now, I would ask you to respect my wishes and abide by my instructions. We leave in six days.’

      ‘Six!’ Gillian’s eyes widened in dismay. ‘You said we were leaving in seven!’

      ‘I was, but your decision to argue has persuaded me to move it up a day.’

      ‘But you cannot—’

      ‘And for every objection you make, we shall leave one day sooner. The choice is yours, Gillian.’

      With that Oliver turned and walked towards the door. He could feel his ward’s eyes boring into his back, but he did not give way. He had learned that the only way to deal with Gillian was to be firm, regardless of what Sophie or anyone else thought. He was doing what was best for the girl and with any luck, she would eventually come to realise that.

      In the interim, it did not lessen his awareness that had СКАЧАТЬ