“Again, Mama!” Henry demanded in his baby voice, and Amelia complied with a laugh that transformed her entire countenance.
Tobias had never seen her thus—unguarded, joyful, utterly herself. This was not the composed widow who moved through the house like a wraith. This was not the angry woman who had accused him of trying to manage her life. This was someone entirely different, someone he desperately wished to know.
It was at this moment that Henry looked up, seemingly noticing him in the doorway. The child froze and tilted his head slightly as he looked at Tobias.
Amelia followed her son’s gaze, and Tobias watched the transformation with something akin to grief. The laughter died. The light in her eyes dimmed. She reached for Henry with movements that were suddenly careful and protective.
“My lord.” She looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly. “I did not hear you approach.”
“Forgive me.” Tobias did not move from the doorway. “I… I do not mean to be a bother.”
He shifted uncomfortably before clumsily thrusting his hand forward, suddenly feeling rather foolish about it all. “I… want Henry to have this.” Rather than the boy, he held the wooden horse out to Amelia.
Henry continued to stare at him with that unnervingly focused attention. Then, to Tobias’s utter astonishment, the child’s face split into an enormous grin.
“Up!” Henry announced, extending his small arms toward Tobias with absolute confidence. “Up, up!”
“Henry, no—” Amelia began, but the child was already attempting to stand, wobbling toward Tobias with the determined gait of one newly confident in walking.
Tobias moved without conscious thought, crossing the room to kneel before the boy. Henry reached for him immediately, tiny hands grasping at his coat, and Tobias found himself lifting the child with a care that bordered on reverence.
It was the first time he had held his nephew, Tobias realized, and he pressed his hands against the child’s back a little harder. Henry settled against his chest as though he belonged there, one small hand clutching at Tobias’s cravat while the other explored the unfamiliar texture of his coat.
“Papa,” Henry said solemnly, patting Tobias’s cheek with his free hand.
The word drove through Tobias like a blade, sharp and devastating. Not papa, he wanted to correct, but his throat had closed around the words. Your papa is gone. I am merely your uncle. I am merely?—
But Henry was looking up at him with such trust, such uncomplicated affection, that Tobias felt something crack open in his chest—something he had kept carefully locked away for thirty-one years.
“Lad,” he managed, his voice rougher than intended. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You are quite friendly today, are you not?”
Henry giggled and pressed his face against Tobias’s shoulder in a gesture of such pure contentment that Tobias found himself blinking rather fiercely.
He had held children before, of course. Briefly. At social occasions where one was required to admire friends’ offspring before promptly returning them to their nurses. But this...
This was entirely different.
He glanced at Amelia and found her watching them with a soft smile that set his heart racing.
“He seems quite taken with you,” she said quietly. He wondered… would Edward have held his son like this? Probably not.
“The feeling,” Tobias said, shifting Henry’s weight carefully, “is entirely mutual.”
Henry chose that moment to grab Tobias’s hair with both fists, tugging with impressive strength for one so small. Tobias winced but could not suppress his smile.
“Vigorous little fellow, is he not?”
“He is spirited,” Amelia agreed, and for one brief moment, something almost like warmth flickered in her eyes. “Edward always said...” She stopped herself, the warmth vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. “Forgive me.”
“Do not.” Tobias heard the intensity in his own voice and made an effort to moderate it. “Do not apologize for speaking of him. He was your husband. Henry’s father. His memory should be honored.”
She looked away, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “You are quite generous, my lord.”
“I am nothing of the sort.” He bounced Henry gently, earning another delighted giggle. “But I should like... that is, if you would permit it... I should like to spend time with Henry. To know him. He is my nephew, after all.”
She looked at him quickly, surprise evident in her expression.
“Of course,” she said after some hesitation. “You are head of the family now. It is only natural that you should wish to establish a relationship with your heir.”
