The viscount extended his hand and took Tobias’s in a firm grip. There was just enough to it for its owner to express his authority, yet not so much as to be intimidating. It was a good handshake, and Tobias returned it with equal honesty.
“I was pleased to hear Lord Carthige had acquired your assistance,” the viscount said with a surprising degree of warmth. “He does lonely work. No doubt you are good for him.”
“You shan’t steal him from me, Howell,” Uncle Edmund warned, though his voice held no real threat.
“No, indeed, nor could he fulfill the role where I need someone the most.”
“Oh?”
To Tobias’s complete astonishment, the viscount blushed. All semblance of power and control disintegrated upon the pink-cheeked face.
“Yes, well, erm… That is, in part, why I have sought you out, Carthige. I am in desperate need of solid advice.”
“I would be only too happy to help, if I can.” He extended an arm, open-palmed, tilting his head toward its length. “Shall we make our way to the dining room? I find it easier to ponder weighty matters on a full stomach.”
Tobias followed the other two men and waited his turn to be seated. His uncle nodded to the butler, who indicated the soup tureen to the footman in attendance.
Tobias groaned inwardly. There was always soup. He wished he did not have to negotiate with a soup spoon in front of the viscount. He arranged his napkin carefully, hoping it would capture any errant drops he might fail to maneuver safely to his lips.
“I wonder that there should be any matter you are not prepared for,” his uncle said to their guest, cutting to the heart of the visit, all niceties of conversation bypassed.
It did not seem to bother the viscount. Rather, the gentleman appeared grateful to get his awkward mission over and done with.
“Certainly,” he agreed, “my father gave me ample training for the varied roles my position demands. And, until recently, Mother has run the household. Even now that she has chosen to live with Georgina—where her three grandsons are—the house runs smoothly largely out of habit.”
“It seems you have it all in hand. I cannot imagine where my help is needed.”
“Ah.” The blush returned to the viscount’s cheeks. “Yes. If it were up to me, I would consider the problem irrelevant. But, as you know yourself, Carthige, there is the expectation of…” He cleared his throat. “Yes, well…of an heir.” His eyes fixed on his folded napkin, which his fingers harassed with a degree of vexation.
Uncle Edmund leaned back in his chair. “I see.” He exhaled loudly. “That path does not always run smoothly.” There was a heaviness to his voice. The sound of…regret?
Tobias had never asked why his uncle was not married. He had just assumed it was not in his nature. Not all men were suited to wedded life. It seemed the same problem plagued theviscount. As far as he could tell, Uncle Edmund had far more in common with the viscount than he did. They were both learned men who enjoyed their own company best. Perhaps it was wiser for it to remain that way.
“Pardon me, my lord,” Tobias interjected, “but does your letter patent not allow for one of your nephews to inherit the title? It would appear you have them in ample supply.”
Lord Howell gave Tobias a pointed look. “You cannot be blamed for viewing that as a solution. It is not. Even if such an exception to the rules of inheritance were applied, I would not rely upon it. You have not met my sisters. They will not raise the sort of gentlemen who would make fine leaders.”
Uncle Edmund looked with sadness upon his friend. “Your sense of duty is admirable, dear boy. However, it may be a steep price to pay—giving up the little personal freedom you have—if your bride is no better than Georgina or Vivienne.”
“You have put your finger upon the very reason I am here.” Lord Howell leaned forward in his chair. “Where am I to find a worthy woman? Goodness knows she is not among my peers. For a city so large, Munro has produced very few ladies of quality. Those who exist have been claimed, and rightly so. What is left, I fear, is a slurry of silly, spoiled women, several of them quite unpleasant too. What do I have but a selection of tittering foolishness or nasty sirens in satin and lace? It is enough to make my skin crawl.”
Tobias flashed a sideways glance at his uncle, but it was not returned. Miss Mary Dunbar was not on his uncle’s mind.
“Must she be a nobleman’s daughter?” Uncle Edmund asked. “You might have better luck among the gentry.”
Lord Howell sighed a deep, protracted sigh. “They move too much in the same circles. These gentlewomen—if such a term could be applied to them—are proud, without deserving to be. You know how rare a kind heart and good nature are, Carthige.”
Uncle Edmund was quiet. Tobias sensed that his thoughts were far away. Perhaps his uncle had once yearned for love and had stumbled against the same barrier as the viscount now did. How blessed Tobias felt to have found Sophia! He wished such fulfillment for all good souls.
“If I may,” he ventured a suggestion. “You could consider a young lady from the country. Here, where the church bells of Munro ring only on the edge of hearing, we are less under the influence of the city’s jaded ways. I can vouch for a better class of person among our country cousins.”
Lord Howell perked up a little. “I take it you have met with some success of your own.”
“He has set his cap at Miss Sophia Grant,” Uncle Edmund confirmed.
“The name is familiar…” The viscount furrowed his brow in thought.
“She is a published poet of unparalleled skill.” Tobias beamed, his chest swelling with pride.
