Chapter 16
Sixteen
“She really thought of everything,” Tobias muttered as he ran his fingers along the beautifully bound books on the bookshelf.
He was standing in the western library, surveying the room. He had not wanted to stay in his study; it was too close to the drawing room.
I should not have interrupted her meeting in the first place.
His feet had nearly moved of their own accord, and then he had found himself in the drawing room.
He shook his head, forcing himself back to the present.
“And of course she has not just rebound the books, but organized them as well.” He smiled as he saw a small card in Rowen’s elegant hand that read P to M. “By subject and author surname, if I do not miss my guess.”
“For the most part, yes.” Rowen’s voice drifted into the room, and Tobias turned to find her standing behind him. “Some books were hard to categorize, and I initially thought about having the color of their covers relate to their subject, but it would have looked far too messy.”
She gestured to the bookshelves, shifting her weight slightly to her other foot. “Though I thought that if everything was in the same color, it would be too dull. In the end, I decided to do a mix. Some of it is aesthetic, and some of it is functional.”
“Impressive.” Tobias glanced back at the bookshelves. “You even had the ladders redone.”
“That was the first thing I did. Half of them were rotten, and the other half barely moved.” Rowen shuddered. “I worried that someone might hurt themselves.”
Tobias nodded. “We would not want that.”
Silence fell over them as Tobias turned away from her to look back at the room. Every time his eyes swept across it, he noticed some small thing she had done. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he realized that she was watching him.
“What do you think of it?” Her voice was quieter, and he was almost sure he heard a hint of worry in it, but that could not be right.
Why would she worry about what I think?
“I scarcely recognize the place.” Tobias turned back to face her.
“I cannot tell if that is a good or a bad thing.” Her smile did not quite reach her eyes, and there was an edge beneath her teasing tone.
He saw her fingers play with an errant thread on her dress, felt her eyes searching not just his face but his whole body.
She is nervous.
The thought sent a thrill through him, and he swallowed. “It is a good thing.”
He was surprised by the conviction in his words.
“You have transformed this room. The curtains are beautiful and functional. They are thick enough that they will keep things nice and warm in the winter. The artwork is beautiful, and though I did not think I would care for the wallpaper, you were right; it catches the light in a cosy way.”
“Do my ears deceive me, Tobias, or did you just say I was right?” Rowen teased, her lips curling into a small smile.
Tobias chuckled, watching as she shifted beneath his gaze. “Always surprised. Surely you should be used to me complimenting you by now.”
“Compliments are one thing, having one’s husband admit that they were wrong is quite another.” Rowen straightened, her smiling widening.
“You should enjoy it, Duchess. It is a well-earned victory.” He smiled at her and gestured around them. “You have made this place feel like home.”
“Did you fear it would feel too like my home and not yours?”
Tobias could hear the pride in her voice mingling with something else he could not quite place.
“It was not a fear.” He ran a hand through his hair as he cast a look around the room. “In truth, I am not sure what I expected, but it was not this. It feels… alchemical, almost. I can see your touch in most things.”
“Yours is there as well.” Rowen moved closer to him, pointing to the armchairs and the desk he had picked out.
“I know. That is why I said alchemical. It is not quite one or the other, but a combination. It is something new.” Tobias swallowed as his mind flashed back to the state the room had been in. “Truly, you have outdone yourself. You have brought life back into every corner of this house.”
“That is easy to do when you are handed a blank canvas.” Rowen’s laugh was soft. “One often finds that a house feels more like a home when it is properly furnished and decorated.”
“That may be true, Rowen, but I suspect few women could do what you have done.” He met her grey eyes, wanting her to hear the sincerity in his words.
“You have filled this place with life and comfort and joy. The halls do not echo with footsteps, and the walls are not empty. Everything feels like it was chosen with care, and yet is somehow understated. It does not feel like his home anymore.”
His voice broke on the last words. A lump formed in his throat as he saw Rowen’s eyes widen, and he swiftly turned away from her.
“I am sorry.” Rowen’s voice was small.
“Do not be. It is not a bad thing.” Tobias swallowed. “I meant what I said, Rowen. What you have done with this house is truly wonderful. It is just…”
“Hard to let him go?”
He sensed her move closer to him.
He shook his head. “It isn’t that. When I sold Erindale House, it was because I could not stand to set foot in it.
Not after what my father had done. He was everywhere in that place, and I had a few memories that brought me joy there.
I thought that moving here would bring me peace, but it was the opposite. ”
He gestured to the corner of the room, where an old armchair had been until he had gotten rid of it.
“Everywhere I looked, I could see his ghost. I would look at a chair and wonder if he imagined reading stories to his children by the fire. I could see him with little Erica on his knee.”
He stared into the window, his reflection fading into a ghostly image of Eric. His heart shuddered, and a coldness settled over him that matched the falling snow.
“I tried to push it all away. I did not want to think about it, and it worked somehow. I could not escape his ghost, not entirely, but I could make sure it was harder for him to find me.”
I could build a wall around the pain.
The numbness that he had wrapped around himself for so long crept into the edges of his awareness.
It seemed so at odds with the life in the room. The warmth that the wallpaper brought, even in the cold winter light. The scent of violets around him.
“Sometimes, I would be playing with little Erica, and she would laugh, and in my mind, the sound would mingle with his laughter.” Tobias closed his eyes as his brother’s laughter echoed in his mind. “He had the most marvellous laugh. It had a way of pulling you in.”
“I would say that is a quality you both share.”
He could hear the lightness in Rowen’s tone, but also a gentle sincerity.
“And yet it seems my laughter does not pull you in.” He ran a hand over the back of an armchair.
In his mind, he heard Eric’s laughter again. He could see his brother, his nose buried in a book, his green eyes crinkling at the corners, and a warm smile playing on his lips. All those moments Tobias had had with his niece should have been his brother’s.
“When you laugh genuinely, you do. Like when we saw that man in the furniture shop.” Rowen’s fingers twitched, and for a moment, Tobias thought she was reaching for his hand.
It is just a trick of the light.
“He and your brother were amongst the best men I knew. Yet they are gone, and I am not.” Tobias rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the hint of stubble beneath his fingertips.
I was the one who went to war, yet by some foul twist of fate, I was spared, not them.
Tobias looked out the window, watching the swirling snowflakes settle over London.
“I thought that if I got rid of everything, the ghost of what might have been would cease to haunt me. Without all of his things, perhaps I would not see him growing old, surrounded by grandchildren. Perhaps I would not lose myself in thoughts of what he might have dreamed.”
“It is hard not to lose ourselves in what might have been.” Rowen’s voice was soft as she moved to stand beside him.
Tobias did not move away from her, but he could not bring himself to look at her either. He did not want to see the pity in her eyes. Or worse, the sympathy.
I do not deserve it.
“Even though the emptiness made it worse, I could not quite bring myself to fill the house. It felt like I was replacing him.” Tobias looked around the room. “And I suppose in some ways, we have.”
“There is still some of him.” Rowen gave him a gentle smile as she walked to the bookshelf and plucked one of the freshly bound volumes off it.
He raised an eyebrow as she handed it to him. He opened it and leafed through the pages. His lips curled into a smile as he saw Eric’s familiar, untidy scrawl all over the book.
“I thought you would have replaced all of these.” He ran a finger over the notes. “You can barely read them.”
“I did not want to. It is a piece of him, and I did not think you would want to lose it.” She wrinkled her nose, the corner of her lips quirking up. “Though I do not know that I agree with all of his notes, particularly the ones in the history plays.”
“I am impressed you could read them. His notes were always in his worst hand, but if the writing was intended for others, it was pristine.” Tobias chuckled.
“I have read worse. Cora’s penmanship is divine, but Verity’s always looks as though a spider has fallen in ink and then had a fit on the paper.” Rowen shook her head.
Tobias turned the book over in his hand and realized that it was a children’s book. His chest tightened, and he could hear Eric’s voice in his head.
Did you plan to read this to your children?
“He would have been a wonderful father. When we were boys, he used to read to me. And then, when I grew up, he used to have me read to him. He said it would help with my elocution, but I think he just wanted a reprieve from his duties as the heir.” Tobias sighed.
“And did he make you do voices for all the characters?” Rowen asked.
“Of course.” Tobias nodded. “Though I do not think I was as good as he was.”
“Well, now I want you to read to me. I cannot imagine you doing silly voices.” Rowen’s smile grew.
“Perhaps.” Tobias gave her a sidelong look. “But what will I get in return?”
Rowen gave him an impish grin. “That depends on how good your voices are.”
“I suppose you will have to see.” Tobias canted his head towards her as he rested his hands on the windowsill and stood beside her.
There was a faint flush on her cheeks, and her smile seemed to add warmth to the room. Their eyes met, and he realized that her fingers were mere inches from his own.
For a moment, he was sure she would reach for him. A part of him knew that he should move, that he should slip into the numbness that felt both foreign and welcoming, but he could not quite manage it.
Her fingers twitched. His heart stuttered. The grandfather clock in the corner chimed four o’clock.
Rowen stepped away from him. “I should get changed for dinner.”
“Of course.” There was a beat of silence. “I will have Cook bring mine to the study. I have work to do, and I have let myself get too distracted by your handiwork.”
For a moment, he thought she looked disappointed, but that made no sense. When he looked more closely, her expression was neutral.
She moved towards the door. “I am glad you approve of the décor.”
“As am I, Rowen.” He turned away from her and listened to the sound of her retreating footsteps.
Warmth mingled with the cold. Absentmindedly, he traced the windowsill where her fingers had been moments ago.
“What will it be like when you leave?” he murmured, trying to ignore the odd pang in his chest.
That was a problem for another day.