Chapter Twelve
Dinner parties were a living nightmare. And yes, Tobias knew that was a ridiculous exaggeration, but it didn’t make it any less true.
During balls and trips to the theatre, the fact that he did not engage in conversation was far easier for people to overlook.
Here, in his own home, in his own dining room, there was no getting away from the fact that, if he didn’t speak to other people outside of his family, he looked every bit the arrogant duke people thought him.
When he’d lived alone, he hadn’t had to endure this torture.
Every so often, he would attend a social engagement, but for the most part he got on with managing the ducal estates, speaking only to his secretary, Simon.
Tobias could go for days without having to speak at all.
It might have been a lonely existence, but it was a peaceful one.
Since Emily had married Freddie, she inflicted this social dining experience on them at least once a month.
Her initial argument for putting them through it was that, while the Glanmore family was an old and respected one, their current reputation had taken a hit.
It wasn’t terrible. Freddie had always been popular and had only ever caused one problem, by being caught half-naked kissing his now wife in Tobias’ garden.
But that had pushed him into marrying the love of his life and into growing up and taking responsibility for his actions, for which Tobias could hardly complain.
Edward and Christopher had been young men about town and had perhaps been wilder than they should have been.
Tobias being a virtual recluse had added to the vague whispers that the noble Glanmore name was slowly disintegrating.
Emily’s tactics were to turn that reputation around before it sank below the edge of respectability.
Theoretically, Tobias understood the reasons for hosting dinner parties, just as much as he appreciated that they were an expected form of entertainment for other members of Society.
That didn’t mean he didn’t spend each and every one of them longing for the moment when the ladies retired, so that the men could drink port.
The requirement to speak when it was only men went down to nearly nil.
Freddie or Christopher could be relied upon to wax lyrical, and all that was required of him was the occasional nod or shake of the head.
Even knowing that this meal was nearly reaching that point, Tobias was still crawling out of his skin, willing the time to pass.
It wasn’t a slur on the people seated near him; he was self-aware enough to know that the problem was him and not them.
On his right was the Marchioness of Beauvarlet, Lord Beauvarlet’s widowed mother, a sharply intelligent woman whose witty observations were pinpoint accurate.
If he wasn’t so tense, Tobias might even laugh at her stories.
As it was, he was occasionally able to produce a smile, or at least that was the expression for which he was aiming.
He had to hope he wasn’t grimacing. On his left was Lady Elizabeth, the marchioness’ daughter.
He liked the Beauvarlets. And he particularly liked the way the two women were able to hold the conversation without making him feel awkward for not joining in.
But right now, he wished them to the very devil.
Or rather, he wished the dowager’s oldest son would vanish in a puff of smoke.
The uncharitable thought was no slight on the man, but was because the always affable Lord Beauvarlet was seated further down the table next to Grace.
Lord Beauvarlet was everything Tobias was not: charming, talkative and with princely good looks that had women turning their heads whenever he walked by.
Every word out of his mouth was funny, or at least Grace seemed to think so.
She had not stopped smiling since the bounder had taken the seat next to her.
Tobias tried not to listen to gossip, but sometimes it was hard not to hear it.
This summer, everyone was talking about how the marquess was looking for a wife.
From the small amount Tobias knew of the man, he believed him to be a decent fellow.
Tobias liked him, as much as he liked anyone who wasn’t family, which was to say, not enough to spend time with him, but enough that he wouldn’t normally mind Lord Beauvarlet being in his home.
Grace was a good woman, who deserved to be happy.
Goodness knew how much trouble she had gone through over the last few years.
But Tobias was vehemently against this possible union for reasons that were not entirely clear.
It wasn’t that he wanted Grace for himself.
Yes, she was beautiful, yes, he was able to talk to her without the words becoming locked in his throat, and yes, she was funny and witty and everything that a good spouse should be.
But Tobias was not looking for a wife. A wife would expect him to be sociable or at the very least expect him to talk to her.
The constant need for words would drain him.
He didn’t want that for himself or for a spouse and he had long ago resigned himself to the fact that he would remain unmarried.
He had enough brothers that one of them would produce a male heir.
The dukedom would stay in the Dashworth family, as it had for centuries, and he would hand it over to them in a pristine condition knowing that he had done everything he could to make sure that all the estates were profitable and that every single dependant was cared for.
Tobias rubbed his thumb against the stem of his wine glass, taking care to keep his features impassive.
The urge to scowl was getting harder to resist with every burst of laughter from further down the table.
He had to keep reminding himself that to get annoyed at the sound of Grace being amused was beyond unreasonable.
Even if he had been considering her for the position of duchess, it was not far from his mind that Grace was from a family who were guilty of murder.
Not just any murder, but the death of his brother.
While he did not, for a second, doubt her innocence, there had to be things she was still hiding from them, things he had meant to press her on during their walk in Hyde Park and which had remained unsaid because he had liked seeing her smile at things that he said, and if he’d brought them up, she would undoubtedly have stopped.
Further down the table, Lord Beauvarlet said something and the whole group around him guffawed.
Tobias pressed a thumb to the centre of his forehead, trying to ease the pressure building there.
He really was trying to pay attention to his seating companions and to block out any distractions.
The dowager was recounting an amusing tale about her first grandchild, and all around them the other guests were smiling and nodding along to her words.
But, as with every other torturous moment of this long evening, Tobias’ eyes were repeatedly drawn to Grace.
She was wearing something sparkly in her hair, which caught the candlelight whenever she tilted her head.
It was almost as if it were winking at him, taunting him to stride over and pull it from her coiled style so that he could watch her hair tumble over her shoulders.
Her dress was a rich green, which somehow made her blue eyes stand out, or perhaps it was because they were full of laughter, since, damn him to hell and back, Beauvarlet was still causing her no end of amusement.
After an eternity, the ladies finally retired to tea and Tobias’ butler brought the port to the dining room. It wasn’t until the footman was filling his glass that Tobias spotted Freddie’s grin, which boded very ill indeed.
Tobias ran a finger around the edge of his glass, refusing to make further eye contact with any of his brothers.
Since returning to live at Glanmore House, Tobias’ home no less, they had learned how to torment one another, easily picking up on something that was distressing the other and making taunts until the receiver snapped.
A particular favourite of Freddie and Christopher was calling Edward, Teddy.
It drove their brother wild and, although it behoved Tobias to be the more grown-up member of the family, he had to really bite hard on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from joining in.
He wasn’t sure whether his involvement would be welcome either, which was vaguely depressing.
What he did not want was to be on the receiving end of any of their jibes.
They were relentless when they started and this evening he was not in the mood to be subjected to anyone making fun of his behaviour.
To his chagrin, Freddie moved up and took the dowager’s vacated seat.
‘Another excellent evening,’ said Freddie pleasantly, as the rest of their male guests settled further away. ‘I do think my wife surpasses herself each time she hosts. Would you not agree?’
Tobias grunted.
‘Of course, Arabella can be exhausting.’
Tobias could not see where his brother was going with the reference to his young daughter, and so he kept quiet.
‘And I daresay we will have another on the way in the not too distant future.’
That was not something Tobias wished to dwell on. Unfortunately for him, his brothers were not always as discreet as they should be with their new wives. He had walked in on scenes that, while not obscene, lent enough to the imagination as to plague anyone’s nightmares.
‘Once she is increasing again, organising these events will become too much for her.’
‘Kate,’ Tobias murmured, beginning to understand his brother’s intention and wishing it were socially acceptable for him to walk out of his own dining room.