Chapter Five
Tobias tapped the sheaves of paper he was reading so that they aligned precisely and then set them down on his desk.
The pages now neater, the words still wouldn’t go into his head.
On any given day, he could have around five reports to read, ranging from estate management to parliamentary affairs and he prided himself on his ability to digest the information quickly and make sensible, rational decisions with said information.
He allocated himself a certain amount of time to deal with each report’s contents.
He never went over. Or rather, he never normally went over.
Today almost all of his allotted time had gone and he had barely even made a start.
Glancing at the carriage clock on his desk, he saw that it was half past the hour, which meant it was nearing the end of his assigned time limit.
The pocket-sized widow had been in his house since noon. He wasn’t a fanciful man, quite the opposite, but for the last thirty minutes he could have sworn the air was different, vibrating somehow.
He dropped his head into his hands and groaned, irritated with himself.
This distraction was completely out of character and the only person he could blame was himself.
Going to Mrs Hitchings’ ball had been a colossal mistake.
Only, he’d heard that Mrs Hitchings was hosting a ball to introduce her new American friend to Society and the chance of two Americans arriving amongst the Ton was highly unlikely.
The lady who had tried to drown him had to be the same person and was someone he definitely needed to avoid because she was disrespectful and he didn’t need her chaos in his life.
However, there were also two very strong reasons for going and speaking to her.
Reasons that forced him to go. One was to ensure she was not a gossip.
Dukes were supposed to be able to get away with behaving how they liked, but Tobias did not want it spread far and wide that he had taken an unplanned swim in the Serpentine.
His position as the head of the Glanmore dukedom meant that he had to maintain a level of dignity, which knowledge of his flailing about in shallow water would greatly undermine.
The second was to show him that the American was not as beautiful as his mind kept insisting she was.
Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see her blue ones staring back at him, her defiance and anger burning brightly in them, her eyelashes spiky from the water he’d undoubtedly splashed in her face.
He had put the effect she had on his peace of mind down to him almost drowning.
The shock of it had stolen his wits. It could not possibly be down to the woman, who was rude and insufferable and who clearly thought he was an awful specimen of a human being.
Meeting her again would allow him to rationalise this strange urge to think about her every few seconds.
Then he’d gone and danced with her. A private word on the edge of the ballroom would have been sufficient. A businesslike discussion to assure one another that their paths need never cross again.
But no. He was a man known for not dancing.
He was certainly not known for staring into a woman’s eyes like a drowning man clinging to a lifesaving plank of wood.
That his family would notice him acting like that should have been foremost in his mind, but it hadn’t even crossed it.
Instead, he’d once more been mesmerised by those blue eyes, where every emotion Mrs Wilmott was experiencing played out as if she were a book he was hellbent on reading.
It was very clear that she did not like him and that was…
unusual. Oh, he was well aware he was not the best company.
Not being one who spoke easily, he was never surrounded by people, unlike his younger brothers.
He did not have a ready joke or a handy compliment at the tip of his tongue.
But if people disliked him, they hid it well.
Being a duke had some advantages after all.
Not so this woman. He annoyed her and that spark in her eyes lit something he had never known was in him, something he wanted to stay very much unlit.
One dance was enough. He need never do it again.
It was inevitable that they would see him paying attention to a woman for the first time and read something into it that wasn’t there.
Luckily, he was adept at shutting down conversations. It would not be long before his family realised he had no interest in getting to know Mrs Wilmott and they would move on to something more…
A swift knock sounded on his study door, cutting off his train of thought. Emily appeared before he’d called for her to enter. The expression on her face had him standing and heading towards her.
‘Children?’ he managed to croak out.
‘All fine. Your brothers and wives too.’
He was grateful to her for supplying the extra information without him having to speak to ask. Even though she had reassured him, it was clear that something was very wrong.
‘You need to come with me,’ she said, slightly breathlessly, as if she had been running to fetch him. ‘There is something you need to hear.’
Without waiting for him to respond, she turned and hurried away.
Emily was one of the calmest members of his household.
If she was flustered, then it behoved him to find out the cause.
His heart tripped over itself, which he assured himself was with worry and not at the potential prospect of seeing Mrs Wilmott, who must surely be in his house.
The Blue Lounge was packed, or at least that was how it seemed to him. His three brothers and their wives were all facing Mrs Wilmott, who was picking at a loose thread on his favourite armchair.
No one acknowledged his arrival, although he noticed that Mrs Wilmott’s fingers stilled as he stepped closer, before tugging more aggressively at the thread.
Tobias moved to an empty wingback chair. It was the seat always left free for him. It was the least comfortable in the room and afforded no opportunity for anyone to get close to him; probably how his family thought he liked things. As he sat, Mrs Wilmott’s gaze hit him like a punch to the stomach.
‘I cannot bear the suspense,’ said Freddie. To a stranger he might sound jovial and relaxed, but Tobias was familiar with his brothers now and knew that for Freddie to appear this way was costing him.
Mrs Wilmott glanced at Emily, who nodded back.
The widow straightened, smoothing her hands over the thread she’d been tugging at.
‘I have some news to share with you all that may come as an unpleasant shock. It is better, I think, that I say it straight away.’ Tobias agreed with that and, if he’d been able to speak, would have pointed out that she was doing the exact opposite.
‘My sister…’ Mrs Wilmott cleared her throat.
‘My late sister was Clare Dashworth. She married Seb… Lord Sebastian three years before their deaths.’
The silence that followed her statement was absolute. Tobias had the strange sensation that the room was spinning slightly. The words sank in slowly as he stared at Mrs Wilmott. She tilted her head, looking directly at Lady Blackmore and not at anyone else.
If what this tiny woman was saying was true, then she would know everything about his brother’s last few years.
She’d know if he had been happy, if he had truly loved his wife, why he had not written to Tobias or any of his younger brothers.
She might know how Sebastian had died, whether it had been quick or if he had been in pain or alone.
Not knowing about those final moments haunted Tobias in the long, quiet hours of the night and now he might be able to get answers.
When no one spoke, Mrs Wilmott asked, ‘How is Charlotte?’ She was holding herself still, as if the matter was very important to her, and it hit Tobias that if this woman was not a charlatan, she had a claim on his beloved niece.
Tobias would rather die than hand Charlotte over to anyone.
Charlotte was the one person Tobias loved over all others.
He cared about his brothers, of course he did, but it was different with his niece.
She needed him, for him. Not because he was a duke or because he was rich.
She loved him because Tobias was the closest thing she had to a father.
Charlotte was his daughter as far as he was concerned.
This Mrs Wilmott must be lying. It could not be true.
There had been no sign of any of Charlotte’s other relations for years.
Mrs Wilmott was only saying this now because…
because… he could think of no reason, but the sentiment remained the same.
Charlotte was a Dashworth. She would never be a Wilmott.
‘You cannot have her.’ The words were out of Tobias’ mouth before he had even registered thinking them. Normally speaking easily was something to be celebrated, but he could hardly be proud to have done so, given the shocked inhales that reverberated around the room.
Mrs Wilmott smiled thinly, regarding him much as one would an unwelcome slug. ‘I did not request that of you. I merely asked after my niece’s welfare.’
‘She is thriving. As she has done every day under our care.’
‘Excellent. I am very pleased to hear it. I have been worried.’
Tobias and his brothers had a man in America investigating Sebastian’s death, a Mr Hornel, Katherine’s brother.
He had not mentioned Clare having a sister, but there did seem to be something amiss with Sebastian’s in-laws, which meant this stranger may be a threat despite her diminutive size.
‘So worried you have not been in her life for over two years.’