Chapter 2 #2
Here and there, people wept as the coffin was lowered into the grave.
Amelia, however, remained silent. She kept her composure as mourners offered condolences.
After the third or fourth one, Tobias realised that it was he who ought to receive it and he stepped up to stand next to her—not unaware of the grateful glance she sent his way.
At last, the visitors departed—every last one of them. Only then did Amelia turn to the door, Tobias following closely behind.
It was he who finally broke the silence that had been growing between them as of late. “You conducted yourself admirably,” he said, rather awkwardly. “Edward… would have been satisfied with the arrangements. It was… a beautiful service.”
She glanced at him briefly, then nodded. “Thank you, my lord. I am relieved to have met expectations.”
Her voice was rather flat, making him immensely uncomfortable. He reached for her, but thought better of it and thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Amelia—”
“Forgive me.” She interrupted gently. “Henry requires his rest, and I find myself rather fatigued. If you will excuse me? I would like to retire now.”
She did not wait for his response. Instead, she moved past him toward the house quietly. Tobias watched her go, watched her disappear into the shadows of the entrance hall, and wondered what thoughts occupied the mind behind that perfect mask.
Before he could think too much of it, however, he was surrounded by servants—each wanting to say or ask something about estate matters. It seemed, he thought with a grimace, that the head of the house would not have been given time to mourn had he wanted to.
Evening had settled over Redmond Park when Tobias finally found himself alone in the library—the room that had first been his father’s, then his brother’s sanctuary.
He wondered if it would ever truly be his.
It still carried traces of his brother’s presence: the pipe stand beside the chair, the particular arrangement of books, the faint scent of tobacco and leather.
Tobias poured himself a brandy he did not truly desire and sank into the chair behind the desk. The events of the day pressed upon him with suffocating weight. The funeral. The mourners. Amelia’s composure. All of it was… simply overwhelming.
His gaze fell upon the desk’s surface, meticulously organized as Edward had left it. Estate ledgers. Correspondence requiring attention. Legal documents regarding the transfer of the title.
And there, tucked into the drawer, a bundle of letters tied with faded ribbon.
Tobias knew he should not pry. Knew that whatever correspondence Edward had preserved was not meant for another’s perusal. Yet his hand reached for the bundle almost of its own volition, compelled by some need to understand his elusive older brother.
The letters were old, dating back five years.
The courtship period, Tobias realized with a start.
Before Edward and Amelia’s marriage. It was odd that his brother had kept it—he had not taken Edward to be sentimental, though it filled him with relief that perhaps he was.
That perhaps there was some warmth in his brother after all.
The relief faded when he opened the first letter.
Miss Langford,
I trust this letter finds you in adequate health. I am writing to inform you that I have given some thought to the matter we discussed during our recent encounter, and I believe a union between our families would prove mutually advantageous.
Your father has indicated his approval of such an arrangement, and I find your comportment and breeding to be entirely suitable for the position of Viscountess Redmond. You possess the necessary qualities of deportment and discretion that the role demands…
Tobias crumpled up the letter in his hand. This was how Edward had proposed marriage? Of course, he knew that there was no… romance, no love, between his brother and his wife… but he had expected at least some form of… endearment.
He reached for another letter—this one in a feminine hand he recognized from the morning room stationery.
My dear Lord Redmond,
I am most honored by your proposal and accept with genuine pleasure. I confess I have always admired your steadiness of character and dedication to your responsibilities. I hope most sincerely that I shall prove a wife worthy of your regard.
I know you perhaps do not place great value upon romantic sentiment, but I wanted you to know that I enter this union with sincere affection and hope for our future happiness together. I believe that with time and understanding, we might build something quite beautiful...
The letter continued in that same hopeful, earnest vein—a young woman attempting to forge an emotional connection with a man who clearly valued only practical considerations.
He opened letter after letter, searching for some form of warmth—there was none to be had. Through every letter Amelia penned, he saw her hope fade. No wonder she had been so cool, so composed at her wedding, again at her husband’s funeral.
Had Edward’s coldness iced the very warmth out of his wife, too?
Tobias carefully returned the letters to their hiding place. He felt as though he had violated something sacred—witnessed private pain that was never meant for another’s observation.
Yet the knowledge changed everything.
Amelia’s careful composure was not a natural stoicism, but rather learned survival tactic That perfect mask she wore had been systematically constructed, letter by letter, disappointment by disappointment, until she had become precisely what Edward had required: an undemanding, emotionally restrained wife who knew better than to expect any feeling at all from her husband.
Edward had always been proud of his hardness…
only now did Tobias fully understand that the hardness extended to his wife.
And would have e extended to his child.
And now she was a widow. Alone with a young child. Dependent upon Tobias’s goodwill for her very security.
The thought crystallized in his mind with sudden clarity: Amelia and Henry would remain under his protection. Not as some temporary arrangement, not as a mere obligation to take care of.
They would remain at Redmond Park, in their home, until such time as Amelia chose to remarry—if indeed she ever chose such a course.
He would provide for them, protect them, and ensure they had everything they needed.
It was his duty as the new viscount. His responsibility toward his brother’s widow and heir. That was all. Of course it was.