Chapter 19 #2
Would it? Would it truly? Or are you simply going through motions because Tobias insists you must?
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Even as the guests enjoyed a spot of tea, she could see no sign of Tobias. Had he gone home? Without telling her? Surely he would not. She focused on the sweetness of the tea, rather than his absence.
She maintained her composure through it all, smiling and nodding and saying precisely nothing that could be construed as either confirmation or denial.
She smiled and laughed as she allowed herself to be swept into the menial conversations about menial things—gossip mostly, about who is wearing what and who the victim of the latest scandal is.
Relief coursed through her when she finally made her way to the carriage. She released a deep breath once seated.
The relief lasted approximately thirty seconds.
“How was your afternoon?”
She nearly leapt out of her skin. Tobias sat in the opposite corner, cloaked in shadow despite the late afternoon light.
His posture was deceptively casual—one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, arms folded, that particular smile playing about his lips that meant absolutely nothing and everything simultaneously.
“I didn’t realize you were still here,” she managed once her heart had stopped its violent gymnastics.
“I was quite bored, but thought it would be rude to leave you here alone, in the midst of the vultures.” His tone was light, pleasant.
So why did she feel as though she’d been caught doing something illicit?
“I do hope the ladies had better conversations than what I was forced to endure. Apparently, there’s considerable debate in Parliament about agricultural subsidies. Riveting stuff.”
He was deflecting. She recognized the pattern now—that particular brand of charming nonsense he deployed when avoiding something serious.
“It was... educational,” she said carefully, arranging her skirts to avoid looking at him directly. “Mrs. Hartwell was her usual delightful self.”
“Ah. Battering Ram Hartwell. I trust you survived her tender mercies?”
Despite everything, she felt her lips twitch. “Barely. Though Lady Pemberton proved an excellent ally.”
“Did she indeed?” Something shifted in his tone—nothing she could identify precisely, but enough to make her glance up sharply.
He was watching her with an intensity that made her skin prickle with awareness. His casual pose hadn’t changed, but tension radiated from every line of his body like heat from sun-warmed stone.
“She introduced me to Lord Ashbourne,” Amelia said, unsure why she felt compelled to mention it. Tobias nodded. “I saw. What do you make of him?”
Amelia hesitated. What was there to say? “He was... pleasant.”
“Pleasant.” Tobias repeated the word as though testing its flavour. “How remarkably enthusiastic.”
“He asked if he might call upon me. Take me for a promenade in Hyde Park.”
“And you accepted.”
It wasn’t a question. She lifted her chin fractionally. “I did.”
Silence descended, broken only by the clatter of wheels against cobblestones and the muffled sounds of London traffic beyond the carriage walls. Tobias’s expression had shuttered—that careful mask he wore in company settling over features she’d learned to read with devastating accuracy.
“He seems rather eager,” he remarked at last, his tone studiedly casual. “Perhaps a bit too eager.”
The criticism stung more than it should have. “You disapprove?”
“I’m cautious.” He shifted slightly, uncrossing his legs, though his arms remained folded. A defensive posture, she realized. Protection against... what? “A man that polite is usually hiding something.”
“Or perhaps he’s simply polite,” she countered, irritation sparking. “Not every man has something to hide, my lord.”
The formal address landed between them like a barrier. His jaw tightened fractionally.
“True enough. Though I’ve found excessive politeness often masks either empty-headedness or calculation. I’m merely concerned which category Lord Ashbourne occupies.”
“How very thoughtful of you to be concerned.” Her own voice had gone cold, brittle. “Though I must confess confusion about why you care at all who I choose. I thought you wanted me to remarry. To secure Henry’s future. To be rid of this arrangement.”
She hadn’t meant to say that last part. Hadn’t meant to voice the fear that had taken root somewhere between his departure for London and his return—that she and Henry were merely obligations he bore with gritted-teeth nobility.
But once released, the words couldn’t be recalled.
Tobias went very still. When he finally spoke, it was in a quiet voice. As though he was uncertain of his own words.
“I want what’s best for you and for Henry. That’s all.”
“Best for us,” she repeated quietly, holding his gaze though it cost her. “Truly?”
He turned toward her then, and for a moment their eyes locked with the same electric intensity that had characterized every significant moment between them. The garden. The drawing room. That almost-kiss that had haunted her dreams for weeks.
Neither looked away.
“Believe what you like, Lady Amelia,” he said finally, each word precise as a blade. “Just know that I do not wish to see you get hurt.”
The carriage lurched to a stop. She glanced out to find they’d arrived at the townhouse without her noticing. When she turned back, Tobias’s expression had smoothed into something approaching neutrality—though his hands, she noticed, were clenched into fists against his thighs.
“How kind of you,” she said cuttingly. “But let me remind you that it is not your responsibility to protect me. You have enough responsibilities already. Perhaps you should ask yourself why you are intent on adding another one to the long list.”
She didn’t wait for his response. Couldn’t bear to see whether her words had landed with the intended impact or simply bounced off the armour he wore with such practiced ease.
The footman opened the door. She stepped down with careful dignity, accepting his assistance with gratitude. Started toward the townhouse entrance without looking back.
“Amelia—”
She stopped. Drew a breath. “Good evening, Lord Redmond. Thank you for your… company.”
Then she walked away, spine straight, composure intact, leaving him sitting alone in the shadowed interior of a carriage that still smelled faintly of lavender.
Tobias remained motionless long after she’d disappeared into the house. His hands had started to ache where his nails dug into his palms. He forced them to relax, flexing his fingers slowly.
She was a spitfire.
Didn’t even give him a chance to tell her that she wasn’t a responsibility, that she… mattered. Although he was fairly certain it was inappropriate to say so.
The carriage door remained open. The footman waited at a respectful distance. And Tobias sat in the growing darkness, hating Lord Ashbourne with his perfect manners and appropriate interest, and hating himself infinitely more for caring.
“Shall I close the door, my lord?”
The footman’s voice penetrated his spiral. Tobias blinked, suddenly aware he’d been sitting in silence for... how long? Long enough for full darkness to fall. Long enough for lights to bloom in the townhouse windows above.
“Yes. Thank you.” He climbed out, his movements mechanical. “That will be all for this evening.”
The man bowed and departed. And Tobias stood alone on the darkened street, staring up at windows behind which Amelia might be reading. Might be with Henry. Might be thinking about Lord Ashbourne and his polite interest and the secure, respectable future he could offer.
She deserves that, he reminded himself savagely. She deserves security and respect and a man whose reputation won’t taint her by association.
But knowing what she deserved and accepting the reality of watching her find it with someone else proved to be entirely different matters.
Somewhere above, a light extinguished. Then another.
And Tobias Grant stood in the darkness, hands clenched, and wondered precisely when he’d become the sort of fool who stood beneath windows like some lovelorn fool from a terrible novel.