Chapter 1
“You are quite the bore tonight, Grant.”
Tobias looked up from his cards at Lord Daniel Harcourt’s words, scoffing as he looked at the man’s visage through the haze of cigar smoke that filled White’s. The other men at the table laughed distractedly.
“Am I?”
To be honest, he believed Harcourt. He had become rather… disillusioned with life as of late, though there was no proper way to explain that to his friends. “Perhaps the company has grown to be too predictable,” he retorted.
“Predictable?” Sir Thomas Waverly grinned behind his hand of cards and shook his head. “Last week you lost three hundred pounds on a single hand and laughed it off. Tonight, you have been winning as though you knew our hands… and it looks as though you are about to attend a funeral.”
Tobias frowned at the observation. It wasn’t entirely untrue. He reached for his brandy, taking a large gulp of it.
“Oh, leave him be, Waverly,” Daniel said now, his voice far too amused for one defending a friend. “Perhaps our dear Tobias has developed a conscience. I am sure stranger things have happened.”
Tobias scoffed at this, though he managed to bark out a short laugh. “Stranger things, indeed. Perhaps a conversation about my demeanour is stranger than the demeanour itself. Are we women now? Let us play.”
The game continued in murmurs. Tobias still, however, could not shake the thought that something was decidedly… off… with him.
Sixteen months had passed since his disastrous visit to Redmond Park. Since he had seen Lady Amelia in that manner, since he had felt that odd… pang of sympathy for her.
Of course he had attempted to forget about his brother and his wife.
He had thrown himself back into London’s glittering chaos with determination—using debauchery to burn away the memory of the odd anger he had felt at his brother’s treatment of his wife.
At the thought of Amelia becoming a mother.
It hadn’t worked.
His niece or nephew had been born, though he had not received any indication or announcement of the birth. He wondered what Edward would be like as a father. Would it melt the icy caverns of his heart?
“I fold,” he said suddenly, pushing away from the table despite the protests of his companions. The walls of White’s suddenly felt as though they were closing in on him. No longer did he find enjoyment in this.
“It is hardly midnight,” Daniel objected, though he rose as well. “Surely you are not retiring already? There is Lady Carstair’s musicale—though I use the term loosely—or… perhaps we could try our luck at Brook’s, or…”
“I am going home,” Tobias interrupted firmly.
“Home?”
Daniel raised a brow rather theatrically, his surprise evident. “Tobias Grant, terror of the Ton and scourge of marriage-minded maidens… is retiring to his lonely townhouse before the night has truly begun? What would the gossip columns say? What would society think?”
Tobias did not laugh, though his friend clearly attempted to be amusing.
“Society is welcome to do as it pleases,” he said simply. “It usually does, and I believe the gossipers will find someone else to study.”
Daniel frowned, though he mercifully said nothing more.
Tobias kept his chin down as he moved through the streets.
Once, he had found this exciting: the establishments where he had gambled and enjoyed a drink and frittered away his youth with admirable dedication.
Now, all of it seemed rather tawdry. Hollow.
When had that changed? Was it perhaps the thought of his brother’s fatherhood that made him feel as though he himself had no legacy?
It was more than that, he knew. Though he did not truly want to ponder it.
But life had truly changed at Redmond Park. Edward’s disapproval. Amelia standing among the roses, refusing to shed tears.
The life growing within her.
His brother’s child. A child who would be raised… to be like Edward? Or would Amelia keep the child soft and kind, like she was?
He noticed the surprise on his valet’s face when he entered the house. Of course. It was far earlier than usual.
“My lord, I… will you… require anything else this evening?”
“No. I wish to be left alone. I am tired.”
“Right, my lord.”
Tobias nodded as he left the man behind, climbing the stairs hastily in an attempt to get away from the barely concealed curiosity.
Once in his chamber, he poured himself another brandy—one he drank in a single, quick gulp.
Then he sank into the chair by the window, staring out at the glittering lights of London.
Was this not what he had desired all his life? Freedom from expectation. License to do precisely as he pleased, without anyone holding him back. It was why he remained unmarried, after all. And yet… as he sat now, he felt a strange… emptiness.
A soft knock interrupted his brooding and his frown deepened.
“I want to be alone!”
The door opened slowly, revealing Morrison’s hesitant face.
“Apologies, my lord… but a letter has arrived for you. The messenger said it was urgent.”
Tobias scowled. Urgent letters rarely brought pleasant news and there was only one person who would send him such notices. He held his hand out without looking at Morrison.
He looked at the Redmond Crest, bright red on the stark white envelope, suddenly worried.
Had something happened to Amelia? To the child?
“Thank you, Morrison, you may leave.”
“My lord…”
“You may leave.”
The valet retreated without another sound and Tobias turned the letter around. Something was wrong. He knew not how he was so certain of this, but he was certain without doubt that whatever was in this letter was not going to be good.
His fingers fumbled with the seal before breaking it. He scanned over the words, then read them again and again, as though reading them multiple times could change them.
Lord Tobias Grant,
It is my sad duty to inform you that your brother, Viscount Redmond, passed away three days after developing a sudden fever. Despite the physician’s best efforts, the illness progressed with alarming rapidity. By the time this letter reaches you, I believe the funeral will have already taken place.
As the new Viscount Redmond, your immediate presence is required at Redmond Park to settle estate matters and assume your responsibilities.
Your brother’s widow and son remain at the estate and are in need of your guidance.
I remain your humble servant,
Mr. Pemberton
Estate Steward
Again and again, he read the words—then crumbled the paper in his hands.
Edward was dead.
Gone. The brother who had never been much of a comfort or confidant had ceased to exist—just like that. Edward, who was perfect at everything, who was meant to live to a ripe old age to be disappointed in the world below him.
The brother he had resented for thirty-one years was gone.
The insane impulse to laugh and cry at once coursed through him, and he shook his head before running his hands through his hair.
He always thought that they would, somehow, someday, find each other. That perhaps once the child was grown a bit, Edward would loosen up and they would talk and truly be brothers.
Now, that was never to be.
Every bitter thought and moment of jealousy was suddenly fresh in his mind. Every time he had wished for his brother to disappear, to leave him in peace…
Well, now Edward would never bother him again. Guilt crashed over him now, accompanied by a flash of nausea.
Had he not wished for this? Wished for the day when he would not have to endure Edward’s judgment, his eternal superiority, his perfect life with his perfect wife and…
Amelia.
Tobias straightened at the thought of this, his heart racing. He uncrumpled the letter, rereading the last words. Your brother’s widow and son remain at the estate and are in need of your guidance.
His guidance. Amelia was a widow, and their child, who would barely know his father, was still an infant.
They needed the guidance of a rake who hardly managed to handle his own life. Waiting for him. Depending on him. The eternal disappointment, who had fled the last time he had seen them—who had never even enquired about the child.
He moved now, without conscious thought.
He had to go. He was not quite sure what it was he had to do he only knew that he had to help.
He threw essentials into a bag without any care for order before ringing the bell for Morrison, whose eyes widened when he took in his master’s haphazard appearance.
He thrust the crumpled letter into the man’s hand wordlessly. Morrison glanced at the words, and then—to his credit—let out no words of sympathy. Instead, he nodded.
“Shall I arrange for your carriage, my lord?”
“Immediately, yes. Tell them not to spare the horses. I need to reach Kent before dawn breaks.”
Morrison’s eyes widened at this. “My lord, it is… the dark of night. Would it not be wiser to wait until…?”
“Now, Morrison.”
Perhaps it was the inheritance that he had just received, but the authority that escaped from his tone was clear. The valet bowed before leaving the chamber and Tobias sank down onto his bed.
Was this truly happening?
He continued haphazardly throwing items into his bag quickly, before he grabbed them and rushed down the stairs. The carriage was already waiting, and he climbed in wordlessly.
At some point, rain started to fall. As though the entire universe was mourning the death of the real viscount.
Tobias pressed his fists against his forehead, as though it could rid him of the rambling thoughts in his head.
Somewhere ahead lay Redmond Park—a Redmond Park that now belonged to him.
In that manor was Amelia—grieving, alone with a child, and now his responsibility.
The exact responsibility he had spent his entire life avoiding.
He could not run from this.
He would have to face it—face the burden he was happy to watch his brother bear. The estate, the title, the obligations.
The woman with the sad blue eyes, the baby on her lap.
It was all his now. And he had absolutely no idea how he was meant to handle it all.
His responsibility. A lot of new obligations.
His home.