Page 59 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

She laughed softly. “You may explain the distinction to him when next you see him. I suspect he will have opinions.”

Roman put one hand on the desk, leaning his back against the wall to face her. “Why does he wish to go away to school? He is far too young.”

“I do not know.” Her amusement faded as quickly as it had come. That was the problem. She should know. Tamsin looked down at Anne’s letter again. “He says his older brothers went at ten, and he thinks himself cleverer than they are. But Henry has never mentioned wanting to leave home before. Anne says he has become quite determined about it.”

“He can be determined all he wishes, the child is still practically an infant.” Roman tapped his fingers on the desk. “This is a passing fancy, certainly. An amusing story, but I see no reason for alarm. Or the frown you are wearing, Tamsin.”

Though her husband could be entirely correct, ignoring the issue did not sit well with her. “My stepmother seems to believe it is a problem. He is refusing to do the work the governess gives him. I would not be surprised if my stepmother lets him have his way.”

“Ridiculous.” He snorted and looked down at the letter. “What seven year old can force such an issue? What about your father?”

With a sigh, she handed him the letter. “He thinks there is no harm in considering the idea.”

Roman’s forehead creased as he took the letter. He was silent, reading, until he came to the end. He scoffed. Raised his gaze to hers with a certain expression.

Tamsin knew this one. She had seen it at dinner when he spoke of things that annoyed him—usually members of the Opposition. “Roman. This is my family.”

His eyes widened, a theatrical reaction coming from one such as he. “I—I have not said anything.”

“You are thinking something,” she accused mildly.

A gleam of amusement brightened his eyes. “I am almost always thinking something.”

“Yes, and when you wear that expression, it is generally something uncharitable.”

His mouth moved at one corner. He looked over the letter again. “What does Mrs. Keating say? Ah. Here. She and your mother think he is too young. It appears there is considerable agreement among the people actually responsible for his education.”

Tamsin put her pen to paper. “Yes, well. I shall speak to him.”

“You are writing to Henry to advise him, then?” Roman’s gaze dropped to the desk.

“No, to Anne. I mean to visit at once.”

“Today?”

What an odd question. “Yes.”

That made his brow furrow. “Tamsin, you were there two days ago.”

“I know.”

“And you are expected to accept visitors at home today.”

Was it her imagination, or was there a tension in his voice? “I know that, too. I will not leave until after the appointed time.”

He was quiet again.

Tamsin began her note.

Dearest Mother, I have received your letter and will come this afternoon.

“What will you do when you arrive?”

She paused her writing and looked up at her husband. “I will speak to Henry. Obviously.”

“And then?”

What, did he think she could predict the future? “I haven’t any way of knowing yet. It rather depends upon what he says.”