Page 93 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

Roman gave her a dry look.

“And now,” Tamsin said patiently, “he expects you to do something rash while you are angry.”

That startled him. Roman looked down at the paper once more. After a moment, he sat in one of the chairs before the fire. “Curse him.”

Tamsin bit her lip and rose to join him by the fire, coming to stand next to his chair. The dogs were still waiting for their call to action, distinctly aware of their master’s agitation. “And if you write your response while feeling this way?”

Roman met her gaze. “That is precisely the response he hopes for. Something ill-thought out because I am acting on emotion rather than reason.” A laugh escaped him, sounding exceedingly ill-humored. “There are still factual claims I cannot leave unanswered.”

“Then answer those.” She wanted to reach out and lay a hand on his shoulder, but let it rest upon the back of the chair instead. Though they touched each other in little ways, this moment felt different.

“And ignore the insults?”

“Would you answer a man who called you ugly?”

Roman stared at her.

Tamsin gave him a small smile. “I am trying to establish the rules.”

Her husband snorted. “I should hope not.”

“Then perhaps you need not answer every insult merely because Mr. Patchett has paid to put it into print.”

Roman leaned back in his chair, studying her now rather than the paper. “You are very good at this.”

Which was not what she expected. “At being insulted?”

“At knowing when someone wants a reaction from you.”

Tamsin’s amusement faded. She had considerable experience in that, and Roman had not intended the observation to wound. “I suppose I am rather used to anticipating such things.”

Roman’s expression softened. He reached up to take her hand from the back of the chair and hold it gently against his chest, right over his heart. “I am glad you knocked.”

Warmth unfurled beneath her ribs. “So am I.”

His thumb moved once across her knuckles before he looked at the paper again. “I should send this to Holly before it gets any later. Having my solicitor look at it would be the prudent thing to do.”

“Yes.” She was staring at her hand on his chest. With only the thin cotton of his shirt between her skin and his, she could feel the warmth beneath.

“And Hargrove will need an answer.”

Tamsin nodded absently, unable to formulate words.

Roman grunted inelegantly as he stood, but he did not release her hand immediately, keeping it in his as he lowered it. “I think you’re right,” he said finally. “At least about Patchett. If I answer him tonight, I will answer the man rather than the argument.”

“Then perhaps tonight is not the time to answer him.”

“No.” Roman exhaled. “It likely is not.” He finally let go of her and walked back to his desk, seating himself and picking up a pen.

Tamsin remained where she was while her husband wrote several lines, watching him.

After a moment, he looked up. “Was there anything you needed, Tamsin?”

“No.” She had wanted to see him, and so she had. They had spent considerable time together. She had even helped. But she had not come downstairs to solve his difficulty with Patchett, nor did she need anything done. She had come because she wanted to sit beside him, she had missed him. Instead of saying any of that, she smiled. “No. Nothing at all.”

Roman smiled back, evidently reassured. “I will try not to be much longer, but you ought not wait on me to seek your rest.”

“All right.” Tamsin took a step toward the door, but Roman came around the desk before she took another.