Amelia turned at last, meeting his gaze with eyes gone distant and unreadable. “If you’ll excuse me, my lord. I promised Henry a walk before supper.”
She bent to collect her basket, and her hair fell forward to obscure her face—whether by accident or design, he could not say. When she straightened, the mask was perfect again, polite indifference worn like armor against whatever wounds his words had inflicted.
I am sorry,he wanted to yell.I do not wish to see you married to anyone else. I do not deserve you, but neither do they. No one does. Stay. Stay here with me.
He wanted to say it, wanted to plead with her—wanted her to understand that if he had a choice…
Then what?
She moved past him then, careful to maintain proper distance. Her skirts brushed against rose bushes as she walked, catching briefly on thorns before pulling free with soft, tearing sounds that made him wince.
Tobias watched her go, every instinct screaming at him to call her back, to explain that his carefully maintained distance stemmed not from indifference but from wanting far toomuch. That avoiding her required daily battles with himself, that he was losing with increasing frequency. That holding her through Henry’s illness had felt more right than anything in his thoroughly misspent life, and it terrified him.
But the words remained locked behind his teeth, caught on guilt and inadequacy and the absolute certainty that she deserved better than his tainted regard.
When she disappeared through the garden gate, he exhaled sharply—a sound that was not quite steady, closer to breaking than breath.
His hands uncurled slowly. Half-moon indentations marked his palms where his nails had bitten deep. The roses surrounded him with their cloying perfume, beautiful and thorned, tended with such care by hands that were firmly walking away from him.
He shook his head, turning to face the roses in front of him.
“It is no use,” he muttered as though the flowers could understand his agony. “I talk of duty. Of deserving. And I know… Heaven knows me, I know that she deserves far more than I can offer. I know that I will only bring about scandal, but…”
He shook his head, unable to utter the truth even in solitude.
As much as he spoke of duty, as much as he spoke of what was right… and as much as that mattered—and it did, for her sakeif not his own—he could no longer disguise or deny the horrible truth.
Be it to Lord Ashbourne or Lord Denby… he was losing her. He was losing the woman who was the first one ever to look at him as though he were more than a spare. The first woman to treat him with not only kindness, but respect.
The first woman who truly saw him for the man he was, rather than the rakish brother of his better.
He cared for her. Perhaps even loved her.
He turned back to the manor, desperate for a last sight of her, but there was none. Somewhere, she was walking with Henry—perhaps laughing, somewhere where he could not hear it. He was losing her.
And he had no one but himself to blame.
CHAPTER 25
“I’ve been making inquiries.”
The words came out abrupt and graceless, torn from Tobias before he could stop them. He watched Amelia’s hands still mid-cut, the secateurs suspended above a particularly spent bloom. Her shoulders stiffened visibly.
This morning. That conversation had been this morning, and already it felt like a lifetime ago.
Now Tobias stood in the pouring rain, water streaming down his face, his coat long since soaked through. Lightning split the sky over Redmond Park’s eastern fields, throwing the landscape into stark relief before plunging it back into darkness. Thunder followed close behind, so close he felt it vibrate through his chest.
He should go inside. Should have gone inside an hour ago when the first drops began to fall. Should never have saddled Apolloand ridden out into the gathering storm like some dramatic fool from a Gothic novel.
But the alternative had been sitting in his study, pretending to review estate ledgers whilst his mind replayed that scene in the garden over and over again. The way her voice had gone flat when she’d said, “Then it seems my future is well in hand.”
Rain lashed against his face with renewed fury. In the darkness, Apollo shifted restlessly, likely questioning the sanity of his rider. Tobias couldn’t blame him. He was questioning it himself.
Lord Ashbourne remains interested. And there’s also talk that Lord Denby has asked about you. Both would make respectable matches.
The words had tasted like ash even as he’d spoken them. Respectable. Safe. Everything Amelia deserved and everything Tobias could never be.
Ashbourne with his impeccable manners and a widower’s understanding. Denby, with his solid estate and reputation for kindness. Either one would give her security, position, and the life of comfort she’d been denied in her marriage to Edward.
