Page 118 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

The streets were quiet and empty. He started on his way home, pulling the lapels of his great coat up to cover his neck. Snow felt imminent, yet he thought little of the weather, and a great deal about the evening.

Salmond had shown him a fossil found near the coast, and Roman had spent an absurd amount of time trying to understand how anyone could determine the nature of a creature from such an incomplete remnant. One of the physicians had explained it; another had contradicted him; Salmond had contradicted both. Tamsin would have enjoyed the debate.

The thought came without effort, and Roman walked another dozen yards before chuckling. Tamsin would have asked why they each held to their argument; she was forever asking questions that appeared simple until one attempted to answer them. He wondered what she would make of the fossil. He ought to have asked Salmond if he might bring Tamsin to visit, so she could see for herself.

He wanted to tell his wife about his evening. Not because she ought to know where he had been; certainly not because Salmond’s society required anything of Hartwell House. There was no decision upon which he required Tamsin’s opinion. He simply wanted to tell her.

Roman found Tamsin in the drawing room, one foot tucked beneath her skirts and reading upon the sofa, a lamp burning beside her; the fire had fallen low enough that someone ought to have attended to it. He stopped in the doorway and beheld her.

Tamsin looked up. Something changed in her face when she saw him—not alarm. Curiosity. That beautiful, bright look in her eyes he had noticed upon their first meeting in September. “I am afraid your mother retired for the evening. You are quite late, Roman.”

“I am.” He took one step inside the room, watching her, barely acknowledging Apollo coming to greet him.

“And how did you find Salmond’s meeting?”

Roman crossed the room to stand in front of the fire a moment, warming his hands. “Extraordinary.”

“Really?” There was a spark of interest in her voice, making so simple a word sound lovely.

Roman settled on the sofa beside her, near enough to touch her hand if he wished. Tamsin closed her book over one finger. She was ready to listen if he wished to speak, but would not pull the words from him.

He hesitated, but not because he had nothing to say. He had too much. “They have founded it.” He laughed softly and tapped his finger on the cushion between them. “The Yorkshire Philosophical Society.”

She hummed. “That sounds very grand.”

“It sounds considerably grander than the proceedings warranted.”

Her mouth curved. “That is often the way of things, I fear.”

He smiled. “Indeed. There was an argument about stones.”

“Was there?”

“Apparently they are not stones.”

Tamsin’s smile widened. “What are they?”

Roman opened his mouth and discovered he could not adequately answer. “That question is considerably more complicated than it ought to be.”

She laughed. Roman was pleased to hear that lightness from her, doubly so that he was the one who brought it out.

“Salmond means to establish a collection—and not merely of fossils, either. He and the others want to establish a place to collect natural history, antiquities, geological specimens. They spoke of botany as well, though I confess that portion of the discussion escaped me. How does one collect living things without it simply becoming a garden? But the intention is to gather such items here in York where they can be studied.”

That had her setting her book aside and leaning toward him. “By anyone?”

He should have expected that question. “No.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders fell, the spark in her eyes dimming.

He took her hand gently, running his thumb across her knuckles. “Not yet, at least. That was one of the questions I asked. There are practical difficulties.”

“There always are, but I cannot tell if they were there before or because you become involved in a matter,” she said with a tart twist to her lips, her expression unrepentant.

He huffed. “The society requires rules, my lady.”

“Of course they do.”

He chuckled and leaned closer, gazing at Tamsin from beneath his raised brows. “They do.”