Chapter 4
“The eastern tenant cottages require new thatching, my lord, and the drainage system near the lower fields has been neglected for some months now.”
Tobias stared at the ledger before him, the columns of figures blurring together in a manner that distressed him immensely.
Dawn had scarcely broken, yet already he found himself drowning in matters of estate management that Edward had evidently handled with effortless competence.
Perhaps, he thought, this was why his brother was perpetually dissatisfied.
“And the cost of such repairs?” he asked, not that it mattered.
Mr. Pemberton looked down at his notes before he spoke. “Approximately three hundred pounds for the cottages alone, my lord. The drainage will require an additional sum, though I hesitate to provide a precise estimate until we have consulted with—”
“Three hundred pounds.” Tobias frowned. “And the tenants? Can they contribute toward—”
“I would advise against requesting additional funds from the tenants, my lord.” Pemberton spoke with certainty.
“The harvest this past autumn was less than satisfactory, and many families are already struggling. Your brother always believed that maintaining the cottages was the estate’s responsibility. ”
Of course, Edward believed that. Not that it was a bad thing to believe. In fact, it was rather admirable, so Tobias suppressed the uncharitable thought and forced himself to focus upon the matter at hand. “Very well. Proceed with the repairs. What else requires my attention?”
The list, it seemed, was inexhaustible.
For the next hour, Tobias listened as Pemberton detailed crop rotations and livestock management, boundary disputes and timber rights, matters of such bewildering complexity that he wondered how his brother had managed to appear so thoroughly in command whilst simultaneously criticizing Tobias’s every action.
Was he not too exhausted to be a critic?
“Your brother maintained detailed records of every transaction,” Pemberton was saying, and Tobias was certain that he detected a note of gentle reproach in the statement. “Perhaps if you were to review his methods—”
“I shall endeavor to do so.” Tobias rose abruptly, suddenly desperate for air that did not taste of responsibility and inadequacy. “Thank you, Pemberton. We shall continue this tomorrow.”
The estate steward remained quiet, though his expression suggested that he harbored doubts regarding Tobias’s commitment, but he merely bowed and made his way out of the room, leaving Tobias utterly alone.
This is your life now, he thought grimly, staring at the endless papers scattered across the desk. No more gambling until dawn. No more carefree existence. Just ledgers and tenants and drainage systems.
He had been at Redmond Park for six days, and already he felt the walls closing in on him.
The household moved around him with an uncertainty that set his teeth on edge.
Servants who had once deferred automatically to Edward now paused before addressing him, as though unsure whether he deserved the same respect.
The housekeeper consulted Amelia on every domestic matter, rather than Tobias.
And Amelia herself...
Tobias frowned as he left the study, his thoughts turning unbidden to his brother’s widow.
She had established routines so rigid they might have been carved in stone.
Breakfast in her chambers. Morning hours with Henry in the nursery.
Afternoon walks in the garden when the weather permitted, always alone save for the child.
Evening meals taken in solitary dignity before retiring early. He had barely seen her.
She avoided him with the dedication of a general planning military strategy.
The few times their paths had crossed, she’d maintained an icy politeness that made him long for the fire of their argument in the nursery. At least then she had been alive, passionate, real. Now she had retreated behind walls so thick he could scarcely glimpse the woman beneath.
“My lord.”
Tobias turned to find two housemaids frozen in the corridor, their conversation dying abruptly at his appearance. They bobbed hasty curtsies, but not before he caught the knowing glances they exchanged.
“Ladies.” He forced a smile and continued past them, but their whispers resumed the moment he rounded the corner.
The entire household was gossiping, of that he was certain. About him. About Amelia. About how they lived under the same roof, about how she carefully avoided him. About the rake who had become a viscount, who suddenly had to sacrifice his lifestyle.
Let them whisper, he thought irritably. I am doing the best I can.
Yet somehow the thought provided little comfort.
The afternoon found Tobias attempting to review Edward’s correspondence regarding some dispute with a neighboring landowner, but his attention refused to cooperate. He had read the same paragraph three times when a sound arrested him completely.
Laughter.
Genuine, unrestrained laughter—bright and musical and utterly unexpected in this house of mourning.
Tobias set aside the papers and followed the sound, like a man under a spell. It led him through corridors he had not explored since childhood, drawing him inexorably toward the drawing room.
He stopped in the doorway, and the sight before him drove every coherent thought from his mind.
Amelia sat upon the floor, her mourning gown pooled around her in a sea of black silk, with Henry between her knees.
She had abandoned all pretense of propriety, her hair loosened from its severe arrangement, curls escaping to frame her face.
She was rolling a small ball toward the child, who shrieked eagerly whenever it approached, babbling like a brook.
“Again, Mama!” Henry demanded in his baby voice, and Amelia complied with a laugh that transformed her entire countenance.
Tobias had never seen her thus—unguarded, joyful, utterly herself. This was not the composed widow who moved through the house like a wraith. This was not the angry woman who had accused him of trying to manage her life. This was someone entirely different, someone he desperately wished to know.
It was at this moment that Henry looked up, seemingly noticing him in the doorway. The child froze and tilted his head slightly as he looked at Tobias.
Amelia followed her son’s gaze, and Tobias watched the transformation with something akin to grief. The laughter died. The light in her eyes dimmed. She reached for Henry with movements that were suddenly careful and protective.
“My lord.” She looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly. “I did not hear you approach.”
“Forgive me.” Tobias did not move from the doorway. “I… I do not mean to be a bother.”
He shifted uncomfortably before clumsily thrusting his hand forward, suddenly feeling rather foolish about it all. “I… want Henry to have this.” Rather than the boy, he held the wooden horse out to Amelia.
Henry continued to stare at him with that unnervingly focused attention. Then, to Tobias’s utter astonishment, the child’s face split into an enormous grin.
“Up!” Henry announced, extending his small arms toward Tobias with absolute confidence. “Up, up!”
“Henry, no—” Amelia began, but the child was already attempting to stand, wobbling toward Tobias with the determined gait of one newly confident in walking.
Tobias moved without conscious thought, crossing the room to kneel before the boy. Henry reached for him immediately, tiny hands grasping at his coat, and Tobias found himself lifting the child with a care that bordered on reverence.
It was the first time he had held his nephew, Tobias realized, and he pressed his hands against the child’s back a little harder. Henry settled against his chest as though he belonged there, one small hand clutching at Tobias’s cravat while the other explored the unfamiliar texture of his coat.
“Papa,” Henry said solemnly, patting Tobias’s cheek with his free hand.
The word drove through Tobias like a blade, sharp and devastating. Not papa, he wanted to correct, but his throat had closed around the words. Your papa is gone. I am merely your uncle. I am merely—
But Henry was looking up at him with such trust, such uncomplicated affection, that Tobias felt something crack open in his chest—something he had kept carefully locked away for thirty-one years.
“Lad,” he managed, his voice rougher than intended. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You are quite friendly today, are you not?”
Henry giggled and pressed his face against Tobias’s shoulder in a gesture of such pure contentment that Tobias found himself blinking rather fiercely.
He had held children before, of course. Briefly. At social occasions where one was required to admire friends’ offspring before promptly returning them to their nurses. But this...
This was entirely different.
He glanced at Amelia and found her watching them with a soft smile that set his heart racing.
“He seems quite taken with you,” she said quietly. He wondered… would Edward have held his son like this? Probably not.
“The feeling,” Tobias said, shifting Henry’s weight carefully, “is entirely mutual.”
Henry chose that moment to grab Tobias’s hair with both fists, tugging with impressive strength for one so small. Tobias winced but could not suppress his smile.
“Vigorous little fellow, is he not?”
“He is spirited,” Amelia agreed, and for one brief moment, something almost like warmth flickered in her eyes. “Edward always said...” She stopped herself, the warmth vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. “Forgive me.”
“Do not.” Tobias heard the intensity in his own voice and made an effort to moderate it. “Do not apologize for speaking of him. He was your husband. Henry’s father. His memory should be honored.”
She looked away, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “You are quite generous, my lord.”
“I am nothing of the sort.” He bounced Henry gently, earning another delighted giggle. “But I should like... that is, if you would permit it... I should like to spend time with Henry. To know him. He is my nephew, after all.”
She looked at him quickly, surprise evident in her expression.
“Of course,” she said after some hesitation. “You are head of the family now. It is only natural that you should wish to establish a relationship with your heir.”
His heir. This boy was to become a viscount himself, was to carry the burden that he had on his own shoulders now.
“Perhaps,” he heard himself saying, “we might consider engaging a nursemaid? And a governess, once Henry is of age? Someone to assist with his care and education?”
He felt Amelia stiffen before he saw it, felt the air between them change as decisively as weather shifting before a storm.
“Excuse me?” Her voice was quiet.
Tobias, oblivious to her unhappiness, continued: “Merely to ease your burden, you understand. You have shouldered so much alone, and with proper assistance—”
“No, thank you.”
Their eyes met, and she lifted her chin, her anger palpable.
“I will not,” she said, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion, “have strangers raising my son. Henry does not require a nursemaid. He requires his mother. And when the time comes for his education...”
“Amelia—” He caught himself. “Lady Amelia, I merely thought—”
“You thought to manage me again.” She moved toward him, and Henry—seemingly sensing his mother’s distress—began to fuss. She took him from Tobias’s arms hastily. “Edward already thought me an unfit mother. And now… you wish to hire someone to be my son’s caretaker? I cannot have it.”
“That is not—I am the head of this household now. The estate. I am responsible for both of you. I just… thought that… well, engaging proper servants is merely—”
“You are responsible for us?” Her eyes flashed with hurt. “I understand that Henry is your heir, and I respect that Lord Tobias. But me? I am not your responsibility. I will not be an inconvenience.”
“You are being unreasonable—”
“I am being unreasonable?” She laughed coldly. “Once again, you immediately begin making decisions about how we should be managed. About what staff should be engaged. About what would ease my burden—as though you have the slightest understanding of what my burdens actually are.”
Tobias felt his own temper rising to meet hers. “I am trying to help!”
“I did not ask for your help!” Her voice was louder than she meant it to be, and Henry began to cry in earnest. She immediately softened her voice, soothing the child, but her eyes when they met Tobias’s remained hard as flint.
“What I want—what I have told you repeatedly—is to be allowed to make my own decisions. To raise my son as I see fit. To live my life without a man dictating my every move.”
“I am not dictating—”
“Perhaps you do not mean to,” She adjusted Henry on her hip, the child still sniffling against her shoulder. “But I have been owned all my life. First by my father, then your brother. I… I do not wish to be anyone’s responsibility anymore. I am… So incredibly tired.”
She looked at him silently after the outburst. He opened his mouth to respond, to defend himself, to explain that he had meant only kindness—but she was already starting to leave.
“Lady Amelia, please—”
“I believe,” she said without turning back, “that we have nothing further to discuss at present. Good day, my lord.”
Then she was gone, taking Henry and his cries with her, leaving Tobias alone in the drawing room with the echo of her misery, wondering what his brother had done to make this woman so defensive about anything remotely resembling kindness.