Page 58 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

A glance at the clock told Tamsin it was not yet her appointed hour for receiving visitors, so she was unlikely to be interrupted. A letter from Sycamore Lodge at this early hour surely meant someone wanted something.

“Thank you, Eliza.” She broke the seal and unfolded the note.

Her stepmother had never been economical with words. The first paragraph concerned the weather, the second a disagreement with Cook over the proper preparation of a joint of beef, and the third informed Tamsin that Daisy had torn the hem of her blue dress again and really, the child was impossible about remembering to lift her skirts on the stairs.

Tamsin smiled despite herself. She had missed the little daily exchanges with her stepmother—though in truth, it was more often a monologue she was subjected to.

Then she reached the fourth paragraph.

Henry has it in his head that he ought to go away to school.

She straightened.

He says his brothers might have had to wait until they were ten, but that he is cleverer than both and nearly eight years old, and nothing Mrs. Keating or I say will persuade him that he ought to remain at home. Your father says there can be no harm in considering it, though I do think Henry terribly young to be sent among strangers. He became quite cross with me yesterday when I said so, which is unlike him. He has also refused to do the work Mrs. Keating set for him. Perhaps you might come tomorrow and speak to him. He always listens to you. Your father seems to think we ought to consider the idea, but Mrs. Keating also believes he is still too young. He is proving frightfully difficult.

Tamsin read the paragraph again.

Henry wanted to go away to school?

Henry, who still crept into her bedroom during thunderstorms if they were too loud. Henry, who had once wept because George told him the moon would eventually fall out of the sky. Henry, who could spend an entire afternoon constructing fortifications in the garden and then refuse to go upstairs alone after dark because one of the maids had told him a story about a ghost.

He wanted to leave home.

She looked toward the mantel clock. If she sent a note now, the carriage could be brought around by eleven. There was no reason to wait until tomorrow. She could postpone her at-home day for a family need, surely. Henry would be with Mrs. Keating in the schoolroom, but Tamsin could speak with Anne first. She ought to ask exactly when this had begun.

Had one of the older boys said something to him? Perhaps Edward, in anticipation of his return to school in the new year? Or maybe it was one of her other siblings; Henry had always worshipped his older brothers, especially Leopold, despite receiving precious little encouragement in return. Or perhaps one of the neighboring boys had gone away recently.

Seraphina might know more about⁠—

No. Seraphina was likely focused on helping Daphne prepare for coming out with Pearl. The three of them scarcely wrote of anything else in their own little notes. Perhaps no one had yet stepped forward to take on some of Tamsin’s old responsibilities.

Again, she glanced at the clock. Missing her first at-home day might put off a few of the matrons if she did not give adequate notice. She would need to stay, if it was her new marital responsibility she was concerned about.

She could send a note to let them know she was coming, though, and order the carriage for later in the afternoon?

Tamsin rose and crossed to the writing desk. She had taken out a sheet of paper when Roman appeared in the doorway adjoining his study.

“Is it time for me to coax your devoted hound back to my rug?” He came forward with a pleasant expression, but stopped halfway across the room. “You appear troubled.”

“Oh, not precisely. Concerned may be a better word for it.” She opened the little drawer and took out a pen. “I received a note from my stepmother. Henry has decided he wishes to go away to school.”

Roman approached the desk. “Henry?”

“My youngest brother.”

“I know which Henry.”

She glanced up. The man looked mildly affronted. That brought a smile to her lips. “Of course you do.”

“The boy who attempted to ride Athena around the meadow and insisted my dogs be fitted for a saddle? That Henry. My littlest brother-in-law.”

Tamsin lowered her head to hide her smile. “Yes. That Henry.”

“He is seven.”

“Nearly eight.”

Her husband frowned. “That is still seven.”