Chapter 9
“Do you truly believe widening the lane would improve drainage sufficiently?”
Amelia glanced at Tobias as they walked along the eastern boundary. The afternoon sun was growing unbearably hot, and she pressed a handkerchief to her forehead. Tobias nodded.
“I believe it would help considerably. The Carters mentioned their cellar floods each spring. If we widen the lane here and grade it properly, the water would drain toward the brook rather than pooling near the foundations.”
Tobias nodded, his gaze scanning the terrain. “You have clearly given this considerable thought.”
“I have had ample time to observe such matters. Your brother and I discussed these improvements last autumn, but he wished to wait until spring.”
“And now spring has passed.”
They walked in silence for a few moments. Amelia found herself relaxing into the easy rhythm of it—the way they could simply exist beside one another without constant conversation. It was different.
Dangerous.
“If we continue with the drainage improvements, we ought to address the cottage roofs too. I suspect several of the tenants—”
The thunder of hooves cut through her words.
Amelia turned. Then froze.
A massive chestnut stallion was charging across the field directly toward them. Its eyes rolled white with panic, reins trailing behind. Foam flecked its neck.
“Amelia, run!”
But there was nowhere to go. Trees pressed close on one side, a steep embankment on the other. The lane was too narrow. The horse too close.
Tobias moved.
He pushed her behind him and spread his arms wide.
“Tobias, no!” She screamed his name. “Move!”
He didn’t. He stood there as the horse reared up, massive hooves slashing the air inches from his head. Then he lunged forward and grabbed the bridle.
Amelia couldn’t breathe. The horse reared again, and Tobias’s feet left the ground. She was going to watch him die. Right here. Crushed beneath those hooves.
No, no, no…
“Easy now, lad. Easy.” His voice was steady despite everything. Low and soothing. “No one means you harm. Steady, that’s it. Steady.”
The horse’s movements slowed. The wild terror in its eyes faded. When its hooves finally touched earth and stayed there, Tobias sagged forward against the animal’s neck.
Amelia ran.
“You absolute fool!” She crashed into him hard enough to make him stumble. Her hands flew to his face, his shoulders, his arms. “You could have been killed! You nearly were killed! What possessed you to—your coat is torn. And you… you are bleeding!”
“Amelia—”
“Do not ‘Amelia’ me! You stepped in front of a charging horse. You could have died. You could have—”
“I know.” He caught her wrists. His fingers were warm. “I know, but I could not—are you well? Did the horse touch you at all?”
“Did the horse—you very nearly had your skull crushed and you’re asking if I’m well?”
“Yes.” He looked at her earnestly. “I had to protect you.”
Their eyes met, then Tobias cleared his throat.
“Henry. You… are all he has, his mother…”
She nodded slowly, her eyes meeting his.
“My lord! Lady Amelia!”
Pemberton’s voice made her jump backward. Tobias’s hands dropped from her wrists.
The steward appeared with two grooms, all three of whom where breathing hard. “We heard the commotion—good heavens, my lord, you’re injured!”
“A few scrapes, nothing more.” Tobias’s voice was rough. “The horse belongs to Lord Ashford, I believe? Someone ought to return it.”
One of the grooms took the stallion’s reins whilst Pemberton fussed. “My lord, your arm—”
“Is perfectly functional, I assure you. Lady Amelia, perhaps we ought to return to the house?”
She nodded. She could not dare speak, even if she could find the right words.
The walk back was silent. Not the comfortable silence that she had gotten used to, but a heavier one. By the time they reached Redmond Park, Amelia had regained some composure.
“I shall send for the physician,” Pemberton announced.
“That will not be necessary.” Tobias removed his torn coat with a wince he tried to hide. “Mrs. Boldwood can bandage what requires bandaging.”
“My lord, you were nearly trampled—”
“Thank you, Pemberton. That will be all.”
The steward bowed and left, though not before giving Amelia a rather loaded look. She merely nodded at him, then turned to Tobias.
She waited until his footsteps faded. “You should allow the physician to examine you properly.”
“I am well enough. Merely bruised.”
“You could have broken bones. You could have—”
“But I did not.” He paused on the third step, turning back. The afternoon light illuminated the scrape along his jaw, the torn sleeve revealing an angry red mark on his forearm. “I am perfectly well, my lady. I promise.”
She clasped her hands together to still their shaking. “Very well. But if you develop any concerning symptoms—dizziness, nausea, difficulty breathing—you must send for the physician at once.”
“I promise.”
Silence stretched between them once again. She wanted to ask him if he was really only thinking about Henry when he had jumped in front of her, but she feared the answer far too much.
Henry.
“I ought to check on Henry. He will be waking from his nap soon.”
“Of course. I have correspondence requiring attention.”
She turned toward the nursery stairs.
“Amelia?”
She looked back.
“Your mourning period ends soon, does it not? In another few weeks?”
She nodded slowly, uncertain of where he was going with this question.
“Yes. Seven weeks, to be precise.”
He nodded slowly, his jaw working. “Society will expect you to re-enter. To be seen. To consider your future.”
Though he did not say it explicitly, she knew without doubt what he meant.
To remarry. To find another husband, one that would… what? Take her off his hands. She took a deep breath.
“I… It is not… Henry, he still needs…”
“Henry will always need you,” he interrupted gently. “But… I do not want you to only live for your child, my lady. You ought… to find fulfillment beyond him.”
Irritation welled up in her, though she managed to suppress it.
“So… are you suggesting that I ought to prepare myself for re-entry into society and what? Are you planning on acting like a father and finding me a husband? Because I can assure you, I am perfectly capable…”
He raised his hands in mock-surrender. “All I am saying, my lady, is that… at some point, that is what society will expect. And I do not put it past the idle gossipers to… form assumptions and make accusations should you… we… I…”
He broke off, blushing to her surprise.
“It will be a scandal,” she supplied helpfully. “For you. Me. Henry.”
He nodded, almost relieved, and Amelia sighed. “I must admit, I am not… quite ready to think of remarrying, though I do understand the need for my son’s sake. Propriety’s sake…”
The thought, however, did not sit well with her. She could not picture herself as anyone’s wife, as another man’s property yet again.
“There is no rush,” Tobias said, sounding as if he would not like to speak of it.
But he was wrong. She knew as much. Seven more weeks of mourning, and then society would expect her to… move on, remarry, live again.
“I should check on Henry,” she muttered. “And… you ought to rest. Please… do excuse me.”
With that, she ran off—not giving him an opportunity to respond. Once she reached her son’s nursery, she closed the door behind her and pressed her back to it.
Tobias had risked his life for her. He had nearly died, putting himself between her and probable death without a second’s hesitation.
Her heart raced wildly.
He had saved her life. Touched her when he did, and she could still feel the beat of his heart so close to hers.
And then he had calmly mentioned her remarriage, as though it were no more than a business matter.
He… was not at all what her late husband accused him of being, she couldn’t help but think. He was kind and perhaps a tad unconventional. But he was no rake… was he? He was honourable, thought of duty, of propriety…
Because that was what honourable men did. They thought of duty and propriety. They did not allow their own feelings—if he had any—to influence such decisions.
Her eyes turned to her sleeping son, and she smiled down at him softly.
If Henry had to turn out like one of the brothers… she could not help but hope it would be like Tobias.