Chapter 27 #2
She dressed for dinner with shaking hands. Selected a gown Clara had insisted she buy during their last expedition - a deep sapphire that brought out her eyes. “A woman should never underestimate the power of looking devastatingly lovely,” Clara had said with that knowing smile.
She’d laughed then. Now, staring at her reflection, she wondered if she’d been preparing for this moment all along.
The dining room felt cavernous when she entered. Tobias stood by the window, hands behind his back, profile sharp against dying light. Didn’t turn when she came in, though his shoulders went rigid.
“Good evening.”
Too steady. Too controlled. At complete odds with the riot beneath her stays.
“Good evening.” He turned then, and—Christ. He looked wrecked. Exhaustion shadowed his features, stubble roughened his jaw, and something in his expression suggested a man hanging onto composure by his fingernails.
He looked like she felt.
That sent hope fluttering dangerously in her chest.
They took their usual seats. Opposite ends of a table specifically designed to prevent accidental contact. Footmen served the first course with practised efficiency.
Tobias said nothing. Just pushed food around his plate like he was performing a duty rather than actually eating.
The silence grew teeth.
She set down her fork. The click made him look up sharlpy.
“I received a visit from Lord Ashbourne.”
Something flickered across his face—too quick to catch, gone before she could name it. “Oh?”
He avoided her eyes, though his posture stiffened ever so slightly. “How pleasant.”
Pleasant. As though her heart weren’t currently attempting to claw free of her chest. As though this entire conversation weren’t balanced on a knife’s edge.
“He was very kind.” She heard herself continuing, couldn’t stop now, she’d started. “Complimentary about the household. Spoke warmly of his children, his estate in Surrey. Seems a most respectable gentleman.”
“I’m certain he is.” Tobias reached for his wine, gripped it perhaps too tightly. “Society speaks well of him.”
“Yes. They do.” She drew breath, felt it lodge somewhere between lungs and throat. “So well, in fact, that he... he asked...”
She faltered. Watched Tobias go utterly still, knuckles white against the wine glass.
“Asked what?”
Voice gone dangerous. Quiet in that way that meant fury or devastation or both.
Now. Say it now before courage fails entirely.
“He asked to court me. Formally. With a view toward marriage.”
The wine glass hit the table hard enough to make the silverware jump. Tobias surged to his feet, and for one wild moment, she thought he might overturn the entire bloody table. Instead, he just stood there—breathing hard, staring at her with an expression caught between fury and devastation.
“And?”
This was it. The moment that determined everything.
She stood slowly. Legs trembling, but voice steady. “I told him I needed time to consider.”
“Consider.” His laugh held no humour. “How exceedingly rational of you.”
“It is rational.” She lifted her chin, refused to let him see how his dismissal shredded her. “He offers everything a widow should desire. Security for myself and Henry. Respectability. A proper home free from scandal or impropriety.”
“Then accept him.” Flat. Final. “If that’s what you want, accept him and have done with it.”
Her heart cracked clean through. “Is that your counsel? As head of this family?”
“My counsel?” His expression twisted. “What would you have me say, Amelia? That you should refuse a respectable offer in favour of... what? Remaining here indefinitely? Living on charity from your late husband’s brother?”
The cruelty of it struck like a physical blow. She actually flinched—saw him register the movement, saw something that might’ve been regret flash across his features before the mask descended again.
“I see.” Her voice had gone cold. Brittle. “Then I shall accept him. If that’s your recommendation.”
“Amelia—”
“No.” She held up a hand, stopping him. “You’ve made yourself abundantly clear. Lord Ashbourne is suitable. I should be grateful for his interest. What was it you said? Everything a widow should desire.”
She turned toward the door. Needed to escape before the tears threatening behind her eyes could fall. Before she humiliated herself by begging him to offer an alternative, he clearly had no intention of providing.
“Wait.”
The command froze her mid-step. She didn’t turn.
“I didn’t mean...” She heard him exhale sharply. Pure frustration. “That is, I only meant to suggest you deserve... that you shouldn’t feel obligated to...”
“To what?” She turned then, and whatever he saw in her expression made him fall silent. “To remain here? To continue this charade of polite distance whilst we both pretend nothing has changed? You’re quite right, my lord. Lord Ashbourne offers an escape from precisely that torture.”
His face had gone pale. “You think it torture? Living here?”
“I think,” she said quietly, each word chosen with surgical precision, “that I cannot continue in this limbo. Cannot continue wondering if every glance means something or nothing. If your avoidance stems from regret or...” She stopped herself just in time.
“It doesn’t matter. Lord Ashbourne has been clear in his intentions.
Perhaps it’s time I accepted such clarity and stopped chasing shadows. ”
“Shadows.” Tobias’s voice had gone hoarse. “Is that what you think—”
“What am I meant to think?” The words burst from her before she could prevent them, all her careful control shattering.
“You kissed me, Tobias. Kissed me as though I were the answer to every prayer you’d been too afraid to voice, and then you vanished.
Four days of polite nods and closed doors and studied avoidance. What conclusion would you draw?”
He stared at her. And she saw the truth blazing in his eyes—raw and undeniable and absolutely gutting.
He had been avoiding her. Deliberately. Because he regretted it.
“I thought so.” She managed to keep her voice level somehow“Thank you for the honesty, even if unspoken. I’ll inform Lord Ashbourne of my acceptance tomorrow.”
“No.”
The word cracked between them like lightning.
“I beg your pardon?”
Tobias crossed the distance in three strides, stopping just short of touching her, chest heaving like he’d run miles. “Don’t accept him.”
Her heart stuttered. “Why not? You just said—”
“I know what I said.” His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “I know what I ought to say. That he’d be a fine match. That you should accept. That any sensible woman would leap at such an offer.”
“Then—”
“But I can’t.” The confession emerged strangled. “I can’t stand here and encourage you to marry him when the thought of it makes me want to tear this room apart with my bare hands.”
Her breath caught. “Tobias—”
“You think I stayed away because I regret kissing you?” His laugh was broken. Bitter. “I stayed away because every moment near you is torture. Because I want to kiss you again. Because I want things I’ve no right to want from a woman I’ve no business wanting them from.”
Her pulse thundered. “What things?”
“Everything.” Raw. Completely raw. “I want everything, Amelia. Your smiles and your arguments. Your strength and your softness. I want to wake beside you and fall asleep knowing you’re safe.
I want to watch you raise Henry and perhaps.
..” He stopped, breathing hard. “I want what I can never have. What would ruin you if I were selfish enough to take it.”
The admission hung between them. Fragile and fierce.
“And if I cared far more about happiness than about being ruined?” she whispered.
His eyes closed like she’d caused him physical pain. “Don’t say such things.”
“Why not? If they’re true?” She stepped closer, emboldened by the tremor in his voice. “You speak of what you want. But what of what I want? Do I not have a say in my own ruination?”
“You don’t understand—”
“Then explain it to me.” Another step. They stood so close now she could feel heat radiating from him. “Explain why you’d rather push me toward Lord Ashbourne than claim what you just confessed to wanting. Explain why his respectability matters more than...”
She couldn’t finish. Couldn’t voice what she wanted without shattering completely.
Tobias’s jaw worked. “Because he can give you everything without scandal. Without society’s censure.
Without tarnishing your reputation or Henry’s future.
Because you deserve better than a man whose name is synonymous with disgrace.
Whose presence in your life would only invite whispers and judgment. ”
“So you’d sacrifice what we might have for the sake of my reputation?” Disbelief coloured her voice. “After everything—after the kiss, after these months, after all that’s passed between us—you’d choose propriety over...”
“Over what?” His control finally snapped. “Over love? Is that what you think this is?”
The question struck like a blade between her ribs.
“I...” Her voice failed.
“Because if you do,” he continued, voice dropping to barely above a whisper, “then you’re absolutely right. And it terrifies me beyond measure.”
The admission shattered the last of her restraint.
“Then why—”
“Because I’m Edward’s brother!” The words exploded from him. “Because you were his wife. Because society would crucify you for it and I can’t—I won’t—be the reason you lose everything. Even if it means watching you marry someone else. Even if it destroys me.”
Silence crashed down.
Amelia stared at him, seeing clearly for the first time the depth of his torment. He loved her. The truth blazed in every harsh line of his face, in every word he’d just torn from his chest.
And he was going to let her go anyway.
The realisation should’ve brought relief. Instead, it felt like dying.
“So that’s your answer.” Her voice sounded distant. “You’d rather I marry Lord Ashbourne than risk scandal.”
“I’d rather you be happy and whole than dragged through the mud because of me.”
“And you’ve decided, have you? What will make me happy?”
His expression cracked. “Amelia—”
“No.” She stepped back, needing distance before she crumbled entirely. “You’ve made your position clear. I’ll accept Lord Ashbourne’s suit. As you recommend. As any sensible woman should.”
She turned toward the door.
“Amelia, wait—”
“Goodnight, Lord Redmond.” The formal address landed between them like a death knell. “Thank you for your... guidance in this matter.”
She walked from the room before he could respond. Before her composure could fracture completely. Down the corridor. Up the stairs. Into her chambers, where she finally, mercifully, allowed herself to fall apart.
She had her answer. He loved her.
And yet, he was going to let her go anyway.