Although Tobias was weighted with remorse for his pending actions, his ego was pricked by his uncle’s words. “I’d like to think my heart will always be my true north,” he said, trying not to sound too defensive. “If that changed with age, my character would have to change also. Those of us who do not wish to live alone will always be led by our hearts.”
“I do not live alone,” Uncle Edmund pointed out. “I have chosen your company. And I have come to love you like a son. Yet I still have a clear mind, first and foremost.”
“Yes, Uncle, that is exactly my point. You have always been thus.”
“Have I?”
Somewhat taken aback, Tobias stared at his uncle, trying to make sense of his meaning. “That was my understanding,” he added. “That you chose this quiet life. That is why you have no heir, and your brother will inherit after you.”
A strange sadness descended upon his uncle’s features, a softening of his usually very controlled expression. “I suppose you are right,” he said with a deep weariness. “In a way, I did choose this. Yes, I can see why you would think that.”
A sliver of pure ice slid down Tobias’s spine, making the hair on his arms stand up in alarm. Had he gotten it wrong somehow? Did his uncle long for love? Had he merely given up, subsiding into this secluded lifestyle? And oh—terrible, nightmarish thought!—might Miss Sangford worm her way into that lonely space his uncle had almost forgotten existed?
The knock at the door made Tobias jump.
“Come, come, Nephew.” His uncle smiled, though it was once again the smile he reserved for the purpose of expressing kindness. A smile originating in thought rather than sentiment. An act of self-control, to choose which emotion to release at the desired time. It left Tobias feeling unsettled. What unreached tides of feeling lay in the reservoir of his uncle’s heart? What if Miss Sangford found the sluice and released the floodwaters?
Lord Howell entered and the footman closed the heavy oak door behind him. While the butler greeted him and the footman took the viscount’s coat and hat, Tobias tried to pull himself together. The evening had just begun and there was much at stake. But the uneasiness would not recede.
Fortunately, Uncle Edmund was not hamstrung thus and, waving the servants away, walked calmly with his guest to the drawing room. Tobias trailed behind, fretting and nervous, and anxious to appear as neither.
They seated themselves in front of the blazing fire. Lord Howell dwarfed the chair he had chosen, though to be fair, none of the furniture in the drawing room was designed to accommodate a man of his physique. This was not the case for Uncle Edmund, whose favorite chair was all but molded to hisshape after years of use. Comfortably ensconced, he reached for his glasses and a stack of letters on the side table.
“I have had a considerable response,” he began. “My sister and her friends have been most industrious in their efforts to ascertain the existence and whereabouts of appropriate candidates. All with great discretion, of course.”
“That is good news, I suppose,” Lord Howell answered without much enthusiasm.
Uncle Edmund removed his glasses. “My dear Howell, we proceed at your pleasure. If you have changed your mind…”
“No, no, needs must.” Lord Howell spread his fingers over his knee and gave a short, sharp huff of frustration. “It is just such a damnable nuisance to be shopping for a bride when there are more urgent matters that demand my attention daily.”
“No doubt, when Lady Howell takes her place at your side, you will find these matters less irksome.”
“If you say so, Carthige.” The viscount shrugged. “Though it is hard to imagine drawing comfort from a stranger.”
“She will not be a stranger by the time you wed. A proper courtship will resolve this in a matter of months.”
“And if I have chosen unwisely? It’s not exactly like a meat pie that one can discard if the filling is not found to one’s taste.”
“Er, no.” Uncle Edmund, rather flustered at such an image, was momentarily put off his stride.
The fire crackled and spat. The viscount, by contrast, lacked any vigor. To Tobias, it was clear the man was seeking a partnership he neither craved nor relished.
“Ideally,” Tobias said, entering the conversation gingerly, “one would want the opportunity to meet these ladies before they are aware that they are… How did my uncle put it? Ah, yes.Candidates.”
“Certainly,” Uncle Edmund agreed. “It would put your mind at ease to determine who among them has, er… suitable filling.”He cleared his throat quite noisily to express his evident discomfort with his friend’s earlier expression. “What did you have in mind, Tobias? A ball?”
Tobias shook his head. The viscount—who had visibly tensed at the suggestion—sagged with relief. “Dancing is not to everyone’s taste. And the opportunity for meaningful conversation is limited, in my opinion. No, what we need is something to draw the interest of more refined ladies. Women who would prefer something intellectual. You are more likely to find a suitable match where your interests are shared.”
“Go on.” Lord Howell nodded, his interest piqued at last.
“Of course, if you hosted the event, the invitation to these ladies would come from you. That is not subtle.”
The now-characteristic blush appeared on the viscount’s cheeks. “Indeed, I would prefer to observe without obvious motive.”
“So, what we need is an intellectual event where your attendance would be considered natural and which would be attractive to women of sound education and promising character. We will have their aunts and cousins reach out to them with an open invitation. I doubt any will refuse once they know you will be there.”
The viscount tapped his finger to his lips, his gaze focused on a space several feet beyond his chair. “Hmm, I can see you have given this much thought, Mr. Mannerly. I doubt Carthige and I would have been as innovative.”
