Chapter 12
Twelve
“It sounds to me like you just want somewhere to curl up by the fire. The days are getting colder, after all.” Tobias winked at Rowen and was rewarded with a blush.
They had been shopping for several hours at this point, and Tobias had found himself becoming more invested in the process. He had planned mostly on accompanying her to keep her from buying something truly awful just to irritate him, but as time went on, the joke choices had become real ones.
When he had told her not to think of the price, he had thought she would fight him, that she would tell him she was no soldier to be commanded. But she had simply taken him at his word.
While her tone dripped with sarcastic sweetness, he noticed the way her lips quirked into an almost smile, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear.
“And if that was what I wanted, I would suggest a chaise, not an armchair. A chaise is for company, after all.”
“Oh, an armchair can accommodate more than one person, I assure you.” He gave her a sensual smile, hoping to make her blush deepen.
To his surprise, she gave him an impish smirk. “What you do with your associates is your own business, Tobias.”
His jaw dropped, and he spluttered. He saw the triumph in her eyes and let out a soft growl.
Rowen giggled and returned her attention to the collection of armchairs around them.
“I think this one would be right up your alley.” She pointed to one of the nearby armchairs.
Tobias’s eyes widened, and he arched an eyebrow at her. “You are joking.”
The thing was huge and imposing and looked like it belonged in a Gothic cathedral. It had ornate arms and was upholstered in dark velvet. It seemed more like a throne than an armchair, and Tobias had no doubt it was about as comfortable as one.
Rowen peered around the chair, an overly innocent look on her face. “Do you not like it? I thought it would be perfect for your study.”
“That is not coming into my house, let alone my study.” He made an emphatic gesture with his hands.
Rowen smiled. “I think you mean our house.”
“Are you not the one who keeps reminding me of the impermanence of our arrangement?” Tobias felt his chest tighten briefly and noticed a look flit across his wife’s face that he could not quite place.
She shrugged. “And you are the one who insists I should be comfortable.”
“Which begs the question: why would you choose a chair that is neither aesthetic nor comfortable?” he teased.
“You have not even sat in it,” Rowen huffed.
“I do not need to. Just look at it.” He pointed to the hard and straight back, to the cushions that seemed little more than bits of fabric that wished to be cushions.
“I am sure it is perfectly—Ow!” Rowen plopped down into the chair and winced. “Good Lord, did they pad this with bricks?”
“I told you so.” Tobias laughed at the look on her face.
“You need not be so smug about it.” Rowen stood up and rubbed her backside.
Tobias shrugged, feeling the tension in his muscles ease as things popped and cracked in a satisfying way. “I just enjoy being right.”
“Well, I thought the chair would be to your liking, seeing as you do not care for extravagance or frills.” She gestured to the bit of furniture.
“If I must have an armchair, then it must at least be comfortable.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “That is both ugly and uncomfortable.”
“What about that one?” She pointed to another armchair that looked even worse.
Tobias gave her a sidelong look. “Do you actually like it, or are you just trying to wind me up?”
“Me? Wind you up? Perish the thought.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, clutching a hand to her chest.
He felt the corners of his mouth quirk up and shook his head, turning away from her. “I think this one would be better.”
“And you accused me of having taste like a maiden aunt,” she teased. “That looks like it belongs in a gentlemen’s club on the brink of bankruptcy.”
“And how would you know what furniture belonged in a gentlemen’s club?” Tobias cocked his head.
Rowen’s ears turned red. “A woman never reveals her secrets.”
“But we are married, and everyone knows that such things are not kept between a man and his wife.” He leaned towards her.
“Do you mean to tell me you have told me all of your secrets?” She shook her head. “I doubt it.”
“I am an open book.”
“If that is true, then I am the Queen of England.”
“Your Majesty.” He executed an overly formal and deep bow, sweeping out an imaginary cloak behind him.
She threw her hands up in the air. “You are utterly ridiculous.”
“Thank you.” He gave her a mocking bow.
“It is not a compliment.”
He shrugged. “From you, even the harshest word seems a most kind and generous compliment.”
“How do you always manage to say such nice things in the most irritating way?” She pursed her lips, and her eyes flashed. Though whether it was with amusement or frustration, Tobias was not sure.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I am exceptionally talented.”
“And so very humble.”
“Of course.”
Before he could say anything else, a loud voice called, “That is the one! It is perfect!”
Tobias turned to see a fat, red-faced man pointing to quite possibly the ugliest table he had ever seen. Beside him was a petite, mousey-haired woman who was nodding her head excitedly.
“Yes, darling. Oh, you have such a good eye for this sort of thing.” She patted the man’s arm. “It is so elegant, so beautiful. We will be the talk of the ton!”
“Yes, Cissy, we certainly will. It will go perfectly with these chairs.” The man gestured to several nearby chairs that clashed so violently with the table that it looked like they were at war.
“I could not agree more, dear. They are wonderful,” the woman agreed enthusiastically.
Tobias cast a glance at Rowen, who was watching the pair. Her eyes were wide, and he suspected that she was hiding a laugh behind her hand.
She has such a pretty laugh.
He found himself moving closer to her. “Do you think she really agrees with him, or is she simply humoring him?”
“I suspect it is the latter. Did you see the way her jaw tensed when he pointed to the chair?” Rowen replied so quietly he had to strain to hear her. “She hates them.”
“It is not hard to see why. Even if you turned them into kindling, I suspect the fireplace would weep at their hideousness.” Tobias shuddered.
Rowen giggled, the sound sending a wave of heat across his skin.
He glanced at her and found that she was looking at him. Their eyes met, just as the red-faced man exclaimed, “And that armchair! That will be my crowning glory.”
They looked in the direction the man was pointing and saw the hideous chair Rowen had teased Tobias with earlier.
Tobias’s gaze flicked to Rowen, and both of them burst into laughter that they hastily disguised as coughs. He felt a lightness settle over his chest, and watched as Rowen wiped tears of mirth from her face.
“Oh, their house must be such a sight!”
“I am sure it is.” He grinned at her. “What kind of message do you think it sends?”
“I have no idea, but I do not think it is one we wish to emulate.” Rowen shook her head. “I think comfort, elegance, and grace are what we want to project.”
“I agree.” Tobias nodded. “We should make sure that there are some chairs in the hallway too, so people have somewhere to wait for us.”
“As long as they are not any of those.” Rowen jerked her head towards the dining chairs the man had chosen.
“It would at least be a conversation starter.” Tobias laughed. “But I think not the sort of conversation we want.”
“No, probably not,” Rowen agreed. “We should probably look at some art after this. The walls will look even more bare once we have all the furniture moved in.”
“There is a lovely gallery in Kensington. I know the artist; we could go there once we are finished here.” Tobias gestured towards the door. “I think we are just about done here.”
“We will be once we have agreed on the furniture for your study.” Rowen gave him a pointed look.
“I know what furniture I will have. Two of the forest green armchairs with footstools, and I think… Yes, a chaise.” Tobias gave her a wicked smile. “It is getting colder, after all. One never knows when one might have company.”
Rowen opened her mouth, her cheeks flushing a deep scarlet. Before she could say anything, Tobias gestured towards the shopkeeper. “Now that we have chosen the furniture, I will arrange for everything to be delivered to our home.”
It was only as he was negotiating with the shopkeeper over the price that he realized what he had said. Our home.
Cold crept through him.
It does not mean anything. It is our home, at least for now.
He tried not to think of just how often they had uttered the word ‘our.’
“This makes no sense.” Alistair scowled at the paper in front of him. “How is this bigger than that? Four is bigger than two!”
Tobias took a steadying breath and looked at the fractions Alistair was pointing to.
This was the fourth private lesson they had together, and Tobias had hoped that the boy would become less resistant over time.
During the previous lesson, Tobias had even managed to coax a smile from Alistair, but that had all changed as soon as he had started to teach him about fractions.
Even as he tried to think of other ways to explain the concept, all he could think about was how bad it would be for Alistair if he did not understand this.
“Because it is. A half is bigger than a quarter.” Tobias struggled to keep the frustration from his voice, wondering how he could make the child understand.
How did I learn this?
He tried to recall his lessons, to remember what had helped him understand what the numbers meant. He remembered struggling, but he could not remember what had made it click.
“Think about it like a cake. If you cut it into two equal pieces, that is a half. If you cut those into two more equal pieces, then each of those is a quarter.” Tobias demonstrated cutting a cake in thin air.
Alistair’s frown deepened. “But four pieces are more than two pieces.”