‘I am wondering,’ continued Edward, ‘how that will work if…’ His gaze flicked to Tobias, who was interacting with Lotte and not paying them attention.
Freddie’s heart plummeted to his shoes as he understood what Edward was asking. How would Freddie cope when Tobias married Emily? Freddie moved his plate away, his stomach turning over at the thought of eating any of the food on it. Whenever he was with Emily he was able to push that awful thought to the back of his mind. It was a match that made sense; the duke and Emily were a good fit for one another. He rubbed his temple with a forefinger; a headache was building.
Images swirled in his mind: Emily drifting down an aisle towards Tobias, her polite Society smile on her face; silent meals where neither of them spoke more than a few civil words to one another; Emily curled up in Tobias’ library, alone and thinking she was content;Tobias, his lips against her forehead, his palm on the curve of her hip. No. That was enough.
‘If you will excuse me,’ he said, pushing his chair away from the table and standing. ‘I have much to be getting on with this afternoon.’ Before anyone could say anything he strode from the room. Unfortunately, his thoughts followed him.
ChapterSixteen
Freddie surveyed the plot of land he and Tom had marked out with pieces of wood. ‘Do you think it’s going to be big enough?’ he asked.
‘Aye,’ said Tom. ‘If you make it any bigger, you might as well give your niece a house to play in.’ Despite his gruff words, Freddie knew Tom adored Charlotte as much as the rest of them. It had been his idea to build her a playhouse in the garden after all. ‘The lads and I will start it tomorrow.’
‘I can help with that.’
Tom’s eyes slanted towards him. ‘Not with this one.’
That stung. There was no reason Freddie couldn’t help. ‘Why not?’
‘For all you enjoy digging around in the dirt with us labourers, you’re a duke’s son, Freddie.’
Tom’s blunt statement was like a punch to the chest. ‘The circumstances of my birth should not preclude me from something I enjoy,’ he said stiffly.
Tom began collecting his tools, his weathered face inscrutable. ‘None of us would use the word, “preclude”. You’ll make the lads nervous.’ Tom straightened a piece of wood that was already as straight as an arrow.
Nobody had ever told Freddie his language was too fancy. It had always been the other way around, his aunt finding new ways ofmocking his low intelligence and his teachers confirming just how little he knew about anything. He was able to bluff his way in polite Society. He could always turn a situation he’d not read about into a joke, always smile and laugh and make people feel good about themselves, always hoping it was enough for everyone to either not notice or overlook his shortcomings but knowing he was always one step away from revealing his true lack of ability.
Now he realised he didn’t fit into either world. He was not intelligent enough to do the family name proud and he was too lofty to fit in with the workers, but he’d be damned if that stopped him working on this project. He had to have something in his life that took his mind away from Emily and Tobias. There was a limit to what he could take from his mind, which insisted on conjuring up ever more elaborate images of a future he was not sure he would be able to stomach living through. He still did not have enough money to buy the land at Berferd and this project would have to do in the meantime. No one was going to take it away from him.
‘I will make it myself then, if my presence will offend people.’
Tom leaned on the handle of his gardening fork. ‘And what will that lass you’re mooning over think of you scrubbing around in the dirt?’
Freddie leaned down and re-straightened the same plank of wood, his ears burning. He was not going to dignify that comment with a response. If he made no reference to it, then it hadn’t happened. Hell, he hoped no one else was aware of his feelings for the woman who was, in all likelihood, going to become his sister-in-law.
‘There is no lass,’ he muttered, when it became apparent Tom wasn’t going to do anything at all until Freddie answered him.
Tom snorted. ‘If you think I’ll believe that, you might be as dull-witted as you imagine yourself to be.’
Before Freddie could get any further with his protest, a footman appeared from behind a hedge. Bowing to Freddie he said, ‘His Grace requires your attendance in his study.’
‘I see. I will come now.’ He turned back to Tom. ‘There really is not a lass.’
‘Aye, Sir,’ said Tom. ‘If you say so.’ Despite the friendship and affection the two of them held for each other, Tom addressed him formally in front of other members of the duke’s household. Freddie had never liked it, but he understood why it had to happen.
Trudging back to the house, he wondered what his brother could possibly want from him. It had been Tobias who had taken Charlotte over to see Emily this morning and Freddie had tortured himself wondering whether they had sat down on the floor together and shared secrets. Had Emily leaned over and touched his brother’s arm in sympathy or for some other reason? He both wanted to know desperately and also never wanted to find out.
He’d not seen Emily for two whole days and he was slowly going out of his mind. He had no idea how he was going to act when they were next in each other’s presence and he was constantly imagining various scenarios. His favourite had them both laughing again, but then he would remember that he had told her he couldn’t read and his stomach would tighten at the thought of her coming to think badly about him for it. She hadn’t in the moment, but surely she would, given time to think about it. Or worse, they would meet and it would be how it always was and… and if he thought about it for one moment longer, he would surely lose complete control of his mind.
Inside Glanmore House, the heat of the spring day had not transferred itself to the cool, dim corridors. An expectant silence seemed to hang in the air as if something was waiting to happen; a tendril of fear shivered down his spine.
Tobias was lurking at the entrance to the study, unsmilingly watching Freddie as he walked towards the door. Freddie’s stomach sank until he realised that he hadn’t done anything to incur his brother’s wrath and so there was really nothing for him to worry about. Besides, he was a grown man, not a child who had been suspended from school once more. If he had done something that annoyed Tobias, then there was nothing his older brother could do to punish him. Even so, Freddie did his best to avoid conflict. Anything that reminded him of those awful days of his childhood was to be avoided at all costs.
The duke gestured to a seat in his office; Freddie took that to mean he should sit down. Simon de Beauvoir, the duke’s right-hand man, settled opposite him. Anxiety crept up his spine, tightening the muscles in his back. Simon’s presence did not bode well. Whenever Tobias wanted to speak to his brothers about something serious, Simon was brought in. When, in his late teens, Freddie had been sent down from Oxford for the fifth time, it had been Simon who had expressed Tobias’ deep disappointment. Somehow, it was far, far worse hearing the words from a third person while Tobias stared moodily from behind his large desk, not engaging in conversation but being an ominous black cloud behind which any punishment could lie. Thankfully, the punishment for that particular crime had been the removal of Freddie from university. As he should never have been there in the first place, this news had been most welcome.
Today, he leaned back in the chair and crossed his leg over his knee. It was a study of relaxation he had perfected over the years and was far from what he was feeling. He had no idea what he could have done this time.
Nobody spoke. Minutes ticked by.
