“With equal stubbornness, I fear. Both men have engaged in considerable shouting, though mercifully no violence has occurred. Yet.”
“Will you...” Tobias turned toward Amelia, not daring to think about what he was about to propose. “Would you accompany me to speak with them? I should value your counsel in this matter.”
The request hung in the air between them. Amelia—as he had expected—hesitated. It was, he supposed, perhaps not proper to ask this. He hardly thought his brother would ever consider it.
“My lord, I do not think?—”
“Please. I believe your… tact… might be of value.”
She looked at him for a long moment, and he forced himself to hold her gaze with an uncomfortable smile. Then, at last, she nodded.
“If it might prevent further discord, then yes. I shall accompany you.”
Relief flooded through him with such force that he nearly swayed. “Thank you. Pemberton, please inform the families that we shall call upon them this afternoon.”
The estate steward bowed and departed, leaving Tobias alone with Amelia for the first time in days. Tobias could not dare look her in the eye, so he found a spot just above her shoulder—fixing his eyes on it. A crack in the wall.
“I should prepare,” she murmured as she moved towards the door. “If we are to ride out, I must?—”
“Amelia.” He spoke before thinking—once more. She turned back to him, and this time, he allowed himself to truly look at her. “I am grateful. Truly. For your assistance in this matter, yes, but more than that. For...”
For not looking at me as though I am a complete failure. For offering your knowledge freely rather than hoarding it as a weapon. For being here at all when you have every reason to maintain the distance I have imposed.
But he could not voice any of that, so instead he simply said: “Thank you.”
She nodded once, sharp and formal, and fled the room, while he sat down—burying himself in more paperwork until the time came to see the two families.
This time came far too quickly, though there was a stubborn part in the corner of his heart that thought it did not come soon enough. As the afternoon grew to its hottest, he was on a horse, heading towards the feuding families. Beside him, Amelia sat her horse with an easy grace that should not have surprised him. She was, after all, graceful in everything.
They had ridden in silence for the first quarter of an hour, the only sounds being the steady clop of hooves and the occasional bird call from the hedgerows. The awkwardness between them kept growing, and though he wanted nothing more than to end it, Tobias feared that he had no idea how.
“I did not know you enjoyed riding,” he said when he was unable to bear the silence any longer.
“I learned as a girl,” she said simply. “My father kept a small stable. After I married, Edward thought it... unladylike for the viscountess to ride out unaccompanied, and he rarely had time to escort me himself.”
Tobias frowned at this. Another small cruelty, another restriction Edward had imposed upon her freedom. How many such limitations had she endured in the name of propriety?
“You are welcome to ride whenever you wish,” he said, then immediately winced at his own presumption. “That is, I do notmean to grant permission as though you require it. I merely meant?—”
“I understand what you meant, my lord.”
Tobias nodded, though he felt his cheeks grow hot. They lapsed back into silence, and he glanced at her a few times before finally speaking.
“I ought to apologize,” he said abruptly. “For my behaviour these past days. For avoiding you. It was childish and?—”
“You need not apologize for choosing to keep your distance.” Her interruption was swift, almost sharp. “I imagine that maintaining certain boundaries would be... prudent.”
He did not want to impose boundaries, and he had never valued being prudent in his life. Before he could formulate a response, the Miller holding came into view. A modest cottage stood among neatly tended fields, smoke rising from the chimney. And there, running along the disputed boundary, stood the infamous fence—raw timber, recently erected, extending perhaps thirty feet before stopping abruptly.
“The fence does appear rather... aggressive,” Tobias observed.
“John Miller has three sons and considerable pride,” Amelia said. “I imagine young Tom thought to please his father by taking initiative. Instead, he has embroiled him in a dispute that threatens that very pride.”
Her insight proved prescient. John Miller came out of his cottage as they approached—a broad-shouldered man in his fifth decade with the weathered face of one who had spent his life working the land. He twirled a hat in his hands upon seeing them.
“My lord. My lady.” He executed a stiff bow. “You honour us with your visit, though I confess the matter that brings you is less than honourable.”
“Mr. Miller.” Tobias dismounted, then moved to assist Amelia. For one brief moment, his hands encircled her waist as he lifted her down, and he felt the warmth of her through the fabric of her habit. She tensed at his touch, though perhaps he imagined it. “I understand there has been some dispute regarding boundaries.”
