Page 17 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

“Mr. Holly,” said Anne warmly. “I do hope you can help my husband and my stepson see sense about a recent matter that is most delicate. Do come right to the study.”

Mr. Holly went with her without a word, though as he turned, Tamsin caught the edge of something that might have been an amused smile. Inwardly, she winced. As grateful as she was for his help, she truly hoped her parents would show a measure of humility—and would listen.

“That was quite the introduction,” Lord Hartwell said, expression giving away nothing of his thoughts. “It is a pleasure to see you once more, Miss Mayweather.”

Oh, goodness. Tamsin was standing in her gardening bonnet with a baron, three children, and two enormous dogs who were waiting with impressive self-discipline for instructions.

“The pleasure is mine, Lord Hartwell,” she said, letting her concerns take a step back to the civility the moment called for, even as George, Daisy, and Henry all stared. “You have come on a fine day, my lord.”

“Indeed. The weather is excellent for being out of doors.”

She looked at Lord Hartwell. He looked at her. He was holding himself very straight.

Daisy prodded Tamsin’s elbow. “Are those the lion-dogs?”

“They are not lions,” Tamsin said, cheeks flushing. “They are German boarhounds. Their names are Apollo and Athena.” She glanced at Lord Hartwell. “Is that correct, my lord?”

“It is.” He looked faintly surprised that she remembered, then seemed to recollect himself. “This one is Apollo.” He gestured to the dog who appeared most eager to break from his obedient stance. “And Athena.” She didn’t even twitch an ear at the sound of her name. “You may play with them, if you wish. They will not run far once released.”

George had already positioned himself in front of Apollo with a focused intensity which immediately concerned Tamsin. “Will he let me ride him?”

“George.” Tamsin winced.

“No,” said Lord Hartwell calmly. Then, after a pause suggesting he was doing rapid calculations, “He is not built for it.”

“What about the lady dog?”

“George!”

“Also no,” said Lord Hartwell, glancing at Tamsin with an expression suggesting he had not entirely anticipated this dilemma.

Good, she thought. Neither had she.

“Come along then, ducklings and dogs both.” She gathered her shawl more firmly about her shoulders, for the September breeze had opinions about back gardens and meadows and ladies without proper coats, and nodded to the gate at the far end of the garden. “Henry, do not run ahead of the dogs. George, put your sketchbook down. Daisy, put your bonnet back on.”

She set off across the garden toward the gate, the children orbiting her in various states of containment, and after a moment she heard the quiet sound of Lord Hartwell falling into step beside her. The children chattered like eager fledglings down the path, hardly giving the baron room to answer their questions about the dogs. He tried, at least, and did not seem annoyed. That was something of a relief.

After Tamsin opened the gate he released the dogs with a word she didn’t catch, and Apollo and Athena moved ahead of them and into the meadow beyond. They loped in a way that made the large animals seem graceful, looping around to come back before running out again. The children followed with approximately the same energy.

For a moment the meadow was all movement and noise: Henry shrieking with delight, the dogs ranging outward in long easy arcs, Daisy calling after Athena, George attempting to keep pace with Apollo and losing immediately and cheerfully.

Tamsin stood at the gate, watching them, aware in the peripheral way one is aware of things one is trying not to be too aware of that Lord Hartwell had come to stand beside her.

He was still holding himself stiff and straight. But he was watching his dogs with an expression she hadn’t expected—something quieter and less guarded than what she’d seen on his face by the walls. The peace of the meadow had done something to the composure he’d arrived with. Softened it, perhaps.

She looked back at the children, suddenly unable to speak and behold the baron at the same time. “Henry spoke of your dogs and little else,” she said, because someone had to say something and it might as well be true. “He has always liked dogs, and has asked for his own many times. But I have never seen him fall so in love with any animal before.”

“They are difficult not to love,” Lord Hartwell said quietly.

“So I see.”

A pause. Not an uncomfortable one, precisely. Just—a pause.

“Miss Mayweather.” He said her name carefully, eyebrows raised as he met her gaze. “I hope our arrival has not been an imposition. It occurred to me, after our encounter near the walls, that I had not been properly introduced to your family. It seemed strange, given our proximity and the number of acquaintances we have in common. Holly mentioned his familiarity with your brother, and I thought—” He stopped. A flicker of something other than politeness scattered across his expression. “It seemed a reasonable occasion to call, as he was coming here anyway. And your brother did like the dogs.”

Tamsin considered this explanation. It was not the most convincing thing she had ever heard…but he had said it with such complete seriousness, she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with her skepticism.

“It was very kind of you to think of Henry,” she said instead, which was true regardless of what had actually motivated his visit.