Page 113 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

Roman appeared to realize, a moment too late, that what he had said required no answer.

“Yes,” she said. “Very.”

He nodded. Tamsin waited.

Once, she would have saved him. She would have asked whether he too had missed Frances. Or remarked upon Leeds. Or teased him about Mr. Conyers. Or carried them safely into another conversation.

This afternoon, she did none of those things.

Roman looked toward the fire. “Mother has missed you as well.”

That made Tamsin peer at him with some interest.

He rubbed one thumb along the edge of his signet ring. Then he walked toward the other end of the sofa, looking down at the floor a moment before meeting her gaze again. “She spoke of you often in her letters.”

Frances had written to both of them once a week during her time away, and Tamsin raised her eyebrows at this new information. “Oh?”

“She wanted to know whether you were settling in. Whether you had found any difficulty making new friends. Whether you were happy.”

The very thing Tamsin had told her husband she was not.

Roman seemed to feel the bite of the memory too. He winced and kept his gaze on her as he spoke, words earnest. “I thought you should know I am paying more attention, Tamsin. To everything.”

There was nothing polished about the words, nothing practiced. Perhaps that was why they reached her. Tamsin lowered the book into her lap. “Thank you.”

Roman inclined his head. The silence came again. She let it. For several seconds, Roman searched for something else to say. Tamsin waited.

At last he picked up a book from the end table. “If you do not mind, I would like to read with you until it is time to dress for dinner.”

Tamsin did not hide the warmth in her tone as she answered, “I would like that.”

He settled on the other end of the sofa, holding the book in one hand while he put the other down on the cushion between them. Without glancing at it, she put her hand down next to his, palm up. His whole body relaxed as he slid his fingers through hers and held her, the connection simple, but rather perfect.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

December 2nd, 1822

The December sky turned dark by half past three, and Tamsin was looking out at the barometer by the garden window, holding a letter she had meant to read all day, when she heard the front door open and Roman’s voice at the entrance. He was home before dark.

That made her smile. The early darkness of winter, coupled with nearly freezing temperatures, had made the day long and rather gloomy. She pulled her shawl closer and turned to the door. Would he seek her out first, as he had done the day before? And the day before that.

She certainly noticed his comings and goings a great deal more.

Not because his hours had once been predictable, they had never been. Over the last week, a pattern had emerged in the absence of one. Roman lingered at breakfast more often. He joined her for dinner rather than sending word he would eat later. Twice when his mother had been out he had joined her in the drawing room afterward, though on both occasions he had brought papers with him and seemed uncertain what to do with himself when he remembered that he had presumably come there for her company.

He was making an effort. She could make it easier for him, and that was precisely why she did not. She was not cruel; she responded when spoken to, she asked questions when genuinely wishing to know the answers. She thanked him when he did something thoughtful and smiled when he said something amusing.

But Tamsin had stopped reaching across every silence to pull him to safety. It was remarkable how many silences there were when she was not taking the initiative to fill them.

The door opened and her husband entered, eyes meeting hers at once, even as he dropped to one knee to greet both dogs as they came to him full of their snuffly attention.

“You are home early again,” she said warmly.

Roman glanced toward the clock, verifying the accusation. “So I am.”

Tamsin waited. The silence lengthened.

Her husband cleared his throat. “I thought perhaps I might remain here this evening, instead of dining out with the other gentlemen.”