Page 13 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

Tamsin sat on the edge of the couch. She folded her hands in her lap, took a breath, and began her tale a second time. “Well, you see, Mr. Eastwood…”

In the study, Roman’s pen stopped moving.

He had heard the bell and Martin speaking to someone in the entry. There had been the murmur of women’s voices and the sitting room door opening and closing. But no one had come to fetch him. He had returned to his correspondence, Apollo snoring at his feet and unaffected by household guests if Roman wasn’t rising to greet them.

Athena, spread out by the fire in blissful repose, suddenly twitched upright and walked quietly across the carpet to the door joining the study and sitting room. Given that the callers were women, he absolutely did not wish to distress them with the appearance of his large, though affectionate, hound.

“Athena,” he whispered at the same moment her nose poked at the not-quite-latched door, pushing it open a scant two inches. She swung her great head around to look at him, ears perked, eyes wide and innocent. “Aus.”

She dropped her head as though she had never received such an unkind word in her life, though the command to call her off was used often enough, before walking slowly back to her place by the fire. She glared once more before curling up and issuing a most disgruntled huff.

Then Lyness spoke, and through the not-quite-latched door came the name circling Roman’s mind in his brother’s careful, unhurried voice.

Miss Mayweather.

Roman set his pen down.

He did not move. He was aware, with great clarity and as a man who prided himself on his own conduct, that the correct action was to rise, cross to the door, close it fully, and return to his letters. The conversation in the sitting room was evidently not his to hear.

Yet he remained precisely where he was, motionless in his chair, one hand flat on the desk, listening to her voice. She spoke in the low, composed, precise way of someone who had organized their thoughts carefully and did not intend to waste anyone’s time.

Athena’s head listed and she stared at the door, then at Roman. He narrowed his eyes at her. There was absolutely no reasonable way his dog could remember the woman.

Was there?

Miss Mayweather was not what he had expected. The woman from the walls had been competent and faintly amused by her small charge’s enthusiasm. This woman—the same woman, he was quite certain—was careful, polite, and quite serious. She laid out her family’s situation the way one lays out a map. Here is where we are, here is the terrain, here is what I need to know to find a way through it.

She did not dramatize or apologize for taking up his time. She asked carefully worded questions, and when Lyness asked her something she did not know, she said so without sounding embarrassed. Unfortunately, that occurred many times. A very calm, “I do not know,” had to be repeated.

Roman found he had picked up his pen again without noticing, twisting it between two fingers. He set it back down.

Lyness asked something about the nature of the investments, and Miss Mayweather’s response was careful and thorough and revealed, without her seeming to realize it, that she understood the situation considerably better than anyone else appeared to in her family. She was not asking Lyness to solve all her problems, but to confirm what she already suspected and tell her what options remained.

That was not what he imagined a young woman of limited means to do when they found themselves in the company of men who understood finance. Most women would defer such things to male relatives, would they not? Take whatever crumbs of reassurance were offered home and make the best of things.

Miss Mayweather was not doing that.

Roman was almost startled when the interview in the next room came to a close. How much time had passed with him sitting there, listening to things that were none of his business? His correspondence sat untouched before him as Lyness offered what guidance he could before the scrape of chairs, the polite exchange of farewells.

Footsteps retreated toward the entry. The front door was opening and closing. Then the usual silence of the home.

Athena snorted, her head raised and tail thumping as Lyness appeared in the doorway to the corridor.

“Athena, here you are.” Then he looked at Roman with sudden surprise. “And here you are. You missed a most puzzling visit.”

Without meaning to, Roman glanced at the connecting door. Blast.

Lyness followed his gaze. It was easy enough to see the light coming in from the next room. “Ah. Perhaps you did not miss it, then.”

“Athena pushed the door ajar,” Roman said defensively.

The dog in question rose and walked to Lyness, pushed her snout happily into his hand.

“Athena? Has she started listening at doorways?” Lyness rubbed between her ears. “That doesn’t sound like her in the least.” His brother stared at Roman with silent patience.

“I meant to announce myself.”

“Mm.”