Chapter 12 #2
“Yes, but they are four smaller pieces.” Tobias searched the boy’s face, looking for a sign that he understood.
“I do not see why I have to learn this. Why do I have to have lessons? Georgie gets to play!” Alistair complained, folding his arms across his chest.
Tobias rubbed his knuckles across his forehead, barely suppressing a sigh. “Your sister is not an earl, you are. More to the point, she seems to have a knack for arithmetic, even if she seems unable to focus on it for more than ten minutes at a time.”
It was not a sensible thing to say. The fact that Georgie seemed to pick up such concepts with ease was a sore enough spot for Alistair, and Tobias could understand why. He knew it was a mistake as soon as Alistair’s scowl deepened.
Alistair gave him a look that was so similar to his mother’s look of disdain, he might have been a mirror. “Maybe you should tutor Georgie then. She is clearly better suited than I am.”
“I am teaching you. Georgie may pick things up quickly, but you are the one who will have to run your estate. Besides, you are perfectly capable of learning this.” Tobias pointed to the fractions on the paper before them. “Now, let us try it again.”
“I don’t want to.” Alistair kicked his legs out obstinately. “It’s stupid, and it makes no sense. It is too hard.”
“That is because you are not trying.” Tobias’s patience was running thin.
It was one thing if the boy was struggling, but the fact that he was also pushing back against having the lessons at all only made the situation more difficult.
Tobias breathed in deeply, counting to ten in his head and forcing his shoulders into a relaxed position.
It was easier to deal with soldiers at war.
Soldiers understood the chain of command. Soldiers were grown men and respected authority.
He is a child, Tobias. Remember that.
“I am trying.” Alistair gestured to the paper and the abandoned quill. “But every time I do, you tell me it is wrong. It’s not my fault.”
“I am not saying it is your fault. I know this is difficult.” Tobias tried to soften his voice, but it came out clipped. “You just have to try harder.”
“Why should I?” Alistair glared up at him.
Tobias had to admit that the boy had spirit. It would have been admirable at any other time. Unfortunately, Alistair seemed determined to use that spirit against him.
“Because you need to understand this. Your governess was more learned than most, but she should have been replaced by tutors years ago.” Tobias rubbed his jaw. “You are behind in your Latin, Greek, and arithmetic. If you go to Eton like this, you will struggle.”
“I do not want to go to Eton,” Alistair retorted.
“You do not have a choice. You will go to Eton or Harrow. But regardless of where you end up, you will not survive if you cannot do something as basic as this.” Tobias leaned over the desk and pointed to the bit of paper. “Now, let us try again.”
“No!” Alistair leapt to his feet and shoved the desk, glaring up at him. “I don’t want to.”
Tobias’s patience finally snapped. “I do not care what you want. You will learn this, whether we have to stay here all night or not. I had to learn this at a younger age. My father would not let me leave until he knew that I understood this.”
He remembered his father looming over his desk, smacking a cane across his knuckles and shoulders every time he got an answer wrong. He could still hear the sound the thin rod made as it slashed through the air.
“I don’t care. I don’t want to do this anymore.” Alistair stamped his foot, jerking him back to the present.
“Alistair—” Tobias began.
“No. You keep telling me what I have to do and where I’m going to go. You keep acting like you are my father, but you aren’t! You are not my father!” Alistair yelled, tears streaming down his face as he turned on his heel and sprinted out of the room.
You are not my father.
Tobias felt hollow. He ran a hand through his hair. His blood turned to ice in his veins as he turned to face his brother’s portrait.
“How do I keep making such a mess of things?” he muttered, looking into Eric’s smiling face. “I only wanted to teach him what he needed to know. I was not anywhere near as hard on him as… Was I?”
He closed his eyes, trying to recall the lesson. To recall what he had said. Shame mingled with his frustration as he remembered how angry he had been.
“Perhaps I was too hard on him. I should not have been so sharp with him,” he groaned. “I am not his father.”
His father’s voice echoed in his head. “You are just like me.”
Tobias shoved it angrily away. “I will not be him. I will not.”
But a little boy had just left his room in tears.
Tobias poured himself a glass of whiskey. “He has to learn these things. He has to. But I should have been more patient.”
A part of him wanted to go after Alistair, to make sure he was all right.
“You are not my father.”
He paused halfway towards the door. He was not the boy’s father, and clearly, he should not try to be.
“Perhaps Rowen was right.” He ran a hand along the stubble on his jaw.
She had asked him to keep his distance, and he had ignored her. And look where that had gotten them.