Page 10 of Sophia’s Letter (Ladies of Munro #1)

“W e shall be having a guest for dinner this evening.”

Lord Carthige’s announcement was so unlikely, it took Tobias a few moments to find his tongue.

“Did you hear me, Nephew?”

“ Why ?” Tobias marveled. “I mean, who?”

“Viscount Howell.” Lord Carthige said coolly, as if it were nothing of consequence.

“ The Lord Howell? Here?” Tobias was flummoxed. Uncle Edmund didn’t even visit with his neighbors. Now they were about to receive the most powerful man in their great northern city.

“His father and I were acquainted.”

“‘Were’?”

“He died some months ago.” His uncle shrugged. “Sad, but not tragic. He was a… difficult man.” Lord Carthige picked at the knee of his trousers. Then he folded his hands and looked up. “The new viscount is a creature of greater depth.”

Tobias smiled to himself. Only his uncle would use the word “creature” to describe a fellow human being, especially one he seemed to like.

“What is the occasion?” Tobias asked, still trying to make sense of his uncle’s sudden willingness to accommodate company.

“There is none. He has requested a meeting, and I suggested dinner. I feel sorry for the lad. He is quite alone in the world now.”

“Has he no family at all?”

“Oh, no, there is a mother and two sisters. But they are no comfort to him. And the burden of responsibility he must now shoulder is great indeed. I would take him under my wing, as I have done you.” Uncle Edmund cast his eyes upon Tobias and added, “He reminds me a little of you, now that I think of it.”

“I cannot imagine what a man in such an unenviable position has in common with myself,” mused Tobias.

Edmund shrugged. “You are of a similar age, well educated, confident in your expertise, and equally hapless around women.”

“I see,” Tobias answered, though in truth, he did not see at all. Had he not won the heart of his true love? That should count for something, even if matters had not gone equally as smoothly with Miss Mary Dunbar. Besides, his uncle was not one to judge. He had chosen a life of solitude over marriage. “Perhaps you underestimate him,” he suggested.

“You will see,” was all the answer Tobias received.

*

The sun was setting when the carriage with the Howell crest pulled up on the drive. Tobias had stationed himself at a front-facing window. It was not very gentlemanly to spy on one’s guest, but Tobias could not help himself. Nothing much happened at Newcliffe Hall except reading and cataloguing. The newcomer was a curiosity, and Tobias was undeniably curious.

A tall, broad-shouldered man descended the carriage steps. The manner in which he carried himself matched his physique. This, along with his straight nose and dark, brooding looks would no doubt appeal to the fairer sex if he had not already carried a title with which to attract them. Tobias could imagine swaths of ladies swooning at his feet. He certainly could not picture a scenario in which his lordship would appear “hapless,” despite what his uncle had said.

Tobias hurried back along the corridor to hear Uncle Edmund say, “Has it been a year already? Well, well, I have been a bad friend. You were right to seek me out. I shall make amends forthwith.”

Both host and guest swiveled at the sound of Tobias’s arrival.

“Ah, Tobias, just in time. Howell, may I introduce my nephew, Mr. Mannerly? Tobias, this is Lord Howell, our guest.”

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 the viscount. 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.

“Ah, yes. Now that I think of it, I have come across a small volume of her works. She has an excellent grasp of the human condition. And yet there is a strong note of the classics.”

“Miss Grant is fluent in Latin and Greek,” Tobias boasted, as if they were his own achievements. “And she corresponds with the likes of Lord Byron, Mr. Wordsworth, and several notable academics.”

Lord Howell nodded. “You are well matched, by the sound of it. You have been most fortunate.”

“Not as fortunate as you might think,” Uncle Edmund countered. “Her father is Mr. Conrad Grant, my neighbor.”

Lord Howell sucked the air in between his teeth. “That does complicate things.” He looked at Tobias with pity. “I had not realized. I am so sorry.”

“I do not fear Mr. Grant.” Tobias stuck his chin out. “He will soon see the difference in his daughter now that she has been freed of her past. When he returns from London, it will be a time of celebration, I think.”

Uncle Edmund and Lord Howell exchanged glances.

“What?” Tobias asked. “You do not believe me?”

“Oh, it is clear you are devoted to Miss Grant,” the viscount answered. “And there is little doubt she is the better for it. But Mr. Grant might cling to the past a little more…insistently.”

Tobias opened his mouth with a ready retort, then snapped it shut again. There was no point in trying to persuade the duo of hopeless bachelors of the merits of true love. They had not seen the change in Sophia. But her father would see it. It would gladden his heart. In no time at all, their families would be united in love and matrimony.

He remained less communicative for the remainder of the evening. The pleasantness of having company had been marred by his companions’ persistent pessimism. He listened as they debated the merits of families farther from Munro. Uncle Edmund offered to write to his sister and discover the chatter surrounding the season’s debutants. A woman’s perspective would be useful, and Tobias’s mother was sensible to boot. She might even be willing to reach out to her friends in other counties to hear if any hidden gems were waiting to be discovered.

Tobias listened, yes, and wondered at the chance of success of such an arrangement among strangers. He counted himself lucky indeed to have found his beloved almost on his doorstep. Tomorrow, he would visit again. And the day after that. And, in a few short months, he would ask Mr. Grant for her hand.

Uncle Edmund might have his books, and Lord Howell might one day have his heir, but he, Tobias Mannerly, would have the happy ending.