Chapter 14
Tobias stepped through the front doors still feeling the imprint of Miss Marwood against him, the faint warmth of her breath at his collar, the memory of her fingers tightening in his coat when the cold had cut through her.
Her blue eyes had lifted to his more than once, clear and intelligent, and he had found it difficult to look away.
The dark fall of her hair had brushed his shoulder when she leaned closer for warmth, and her nearness had stayed with him long after they parted.
He paused near the door, trying to bring his thoughts back to order.
The house felt unchanged, yet he felt different walking through it.
He reminded himself that he had responsibilities to attend to and tasks requiring attention.
He hoped that focusing on familiar duties would help him regain some sense of direction.
He tried to steady himself, but the thought of her lingered, quiet and insistent, as if she were still beside him.
He drew a slow breath and told himself he should get changed, gather his papers, and attempt to accomplish something useful before the day passed.
Work would give him direction. Work would clear his mind.
But even as he tried to convince himself, he knew his thoughts would drift to whatever part of the house she occupied.
He disliked how easily his attention shifted toward her. It was unfamiliar and inconvenient, and he did not trust the feeling. He tried to remind himself that she was an employee, nothing more, yet the reminder did little to settle his thoughts. He continued forward, hoping movement would help.
As he crossed the hall, a flicker of movement in the window above the staircase caught his attention. He slowed, trying to make sense of the shape behind the glass. A moment later, he recognized the figure.
That is Viola.
The truth of it settled in at once and drew his full focus to the landing.
She is standing in the corridor outside my study. She has no reason to be there. Why would she go in that direction at all?
A faint unease stirred as he watched the landing, the certainty that something was amiss becoming clearer with each second.
He felt a quiet urgency rise within him. Viola rarely moved through the house without purpose, and her presence near his study suggested an intention he did not welcome. He quickened his pace, unwilling to let her gain any advantage through secrecy or timing.
He took the stairs with quick, heavy strides, the sound of his boots carrying through the hall.
He reached the top just as Mrs. Bracknell swept out of the side corridor and nearly collided with him in her haste.
She stopped short, her breath catching as she steadied herself with one hand against the banister.
He noted the unusual haste in her movements. Mrs. Bracknell was rarely flustered, and the sight of her in such a state only increased his suspicion. He waited for her explanation, though his attention remained fixed on the corridor behind her.
“My Lord, a moment, if you please,” she said, her voice pitched higher than usual as she tried to compose herself. “I wished to speak with you about the children’s lesson schedule, My Lord, and a concern regarding their morning recitations.”
Tobias stopped, though only barely. “This is not the time.”
“I understand,” she said quickly, stepping half a pace closer. “I would not trouble you unless it were necessary. The matter is small, but it touches on their progress, and I thought it best to bring it to you before the week continues.”
She adjusted her spectacles with a quick, nervous motion, clearly determined to hold his attention, though he could see the faint flush of embarrassment at having intercepted him so abruptly.
“I have already reviewed the schedule,” he said. “You may leave it with me.”
He hoped the dismissal would be enough, but her posture did not shift. She seemed intent on delaying him, and the realization sharpened his impatience. He wondered whether she acted on her own or at someone else’s urging.
“It is not only the schedule,” she replied, her hands tightening around the papers she carried. “There have been inconsistencies in the morning recitations. I wished to clarify whether you preferred the older format or the revised one.”
He tried to step past her, but she shifted again, blocking him with a small, apologetic movement.
“If I might just show you the page,” she said, lifting the papers slightly. “It will take only a moment. I would not ask if it were not important.”
“Mrs. Bracknell,” he said, irritation rising in his voice despite his effort to contain it.
She swallowed. “Yes, My Lord.”
“You are delaying me.”
Her eyes darted toward the study door, then back to him. Her mouth opened, but she said nothing.
He recognized the hesitation. She knew something she did not wish to reveal. The knowledge only strengthened his resolve to reach the study before Viola could do further harm. .
He moved her aside, firm but not rough, and crossed the corridor in three long steps. His hand closed around the study door handle, and he pushed it open.
Heat surged through him.
Lady Viola stood at his father’s desk, bent over the old financial ledgers, her gloved fingers resting on the open pages as though they belonged to her.
He felt a quiet anger rise at the sight. The study had always been a private space, one he guarded carefully. Seeing her there, touching what she had no right to touch, struck him with a sense of intrusion he could not ignore.
“Viola,” he said, his voice low. “Explain yourself.”
She straightened slowly, her composed expression deepening his anger.
Tobias stood in the doorway, his shoulders tight and his hand curling slowly into a fist at his side.
He stepped farther into the room, the floorboards giving a muted creak beneath his boots.
Viola did not flinch. She closed the ledger with deliberate care and ran her hand over the cover with a sly smirk on her face, then drifted a few inches to the side as though she were inspecting the desk rather than trespassing at it.
“So,” she said lightly, “did you have a pleasant afternoon with your little commoner pet?”
He refused to rise to it. He kept his expression controlled, knowing she wanted a reaction. Viola often used provocation as a tool, and he would not give her the satisfaction of seeing it succeed. He focused instead on the ledger behind her.
“What are you doing in my study?” he asked, walking deeper into the room until he stood only a few paces from her.
She tilted her head. “Your father’s study.”
“It is mine now.” He spoke the words with more conviction than he felt. The study still carried traces of his father, and he had not yet made it fully his own. Viola’s presence only highlighted how much remained unresolved.
The smirk returned to her face as she slowly shook her head. “I was just reviewing your father’s records.”
“You have no right to do that, and those are also mine now,” he said gruffly.
“They will never fully be yours. They are not even complete.”
His jaw tightened. “Step away from that desk.”
She didn’t move. Instead, she let her fingertips trail along the edge of the blotter.
It was a small, idle gesture that made his anger coil tighter.
He watched her hand move across the desk, noting the casual disrespect in the motion.
She behaved as though the room belonged to her, and the assumption irritated him more than her words. He reminded himself to remain calm.
“Your father kept much from you, Tobias.”
“I do not have time for your games,” he said, turning away from her and moving toward the door. “And no interest in whatever manipulation you are attempting.”
He reached for the handle, refusing to look at her.
“It has to do with your little pet.”
He stopped cold. He could hear the triumph in her voice, but he did not want to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then slowly turned around.
He did not say anything, but raised his eyebrows a fraction as he waited to hear what she had to say next.
Viola’s smile sharpened into almost a sneer.
“I wondered,” she said, tapping the closed ledger with one finger, “whether you ever learned the truth about that loan.”
Tobias felt the muscles in his back tighten. “What loan?”
“The one your father extended to Cecily’s father. The loan that was meant to save his business.”
Her tone softened into something others might have mistaken for pity, but he heard the quiet mockery threaded through it. “The loan that destroyed him instead.”
“You will explain yourself. Now,” he said sharply.
His brow furrowed as he stepped closer, a flicker of confusion cutting through the anger rising in him.
What is she playing at? Why this? Why here?
He searched her expression for any hint of sincerity but found none. Viola rarely acted without motive, and he knew she had chosen this moment deliberately. He braced himself for whatever she intended to reveal.
Viola opened the ledger again, turning it toward him. “The interest rate was obscene. Predatory. There was no possible way the man could have repaid it. Your father knew that.”
Tobias stepped closer, scanning the figures. The numbers blurred for a moment before snapping into clarity. It was his father’s handwriting, his father’s seal, and his father’s terms.
He felt a quiet shock settle in his chest. The figures were unmistakable. He had trusted his father’s judgment without question, and now he saw the cost of that trust. He forced himself to keep reading, unwilling to look away.
“How did you learn of this?” he asked, his voice low.
Viola only smiled, her eyes bright with satisfaction. “I have my sources, and I keep them close.” She tapped the page. “But you hardly need them. The truth is written plainly enough. Your father could not erase everything. All those payments from Edmund Marwood, the little piano maker.”
His stomach tightened as the disgust rose slowly, steadily, and unmistakably.
Father did this. I never saw it. I never asked. And Cecily paid the price for all of it.
He felt the weight of his own inaction. He had accepted his father’s decisions without examining them, believing it was not his place to question. Now he saw the consequences of that choice. The shame pressed on him, but the worst of it was Viola, standing there as if she had handed him a gift.
“You expect this to turn me against her,” he said, his voice low. “You expected this to ruin things between us.”
Viola laughed, soft and triumphant. “There it is. You have finally admitted it. There is something between you to ruin.”
He met her eyes without wavering, his fist clenched at his side. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Leave Cecily alone.”
He turned from her and strode out of the study, her laughter following him into the corridor.