Page 99 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

She could tell him she needed nothing. That answer was always readily on her tongue, because she looked at problems logically and saw the resolutions easily and on her own. But she didn’t want to. Not this time.

Tamsin raised her gaze to his and reached for his hand, covering it with her own. “Would you stay?”

Something flickered across his face, that smallest movement of brows and lips she thought signaled his surprise. “Yes, my lady. Of course.” That was all. He turned his hand over to better hold hers. The paper remained folded in his other hand.

Leopold’s brow creased as he looked between them. “I have no notion of what is happening.”

“Neither do I, not entirely,” Tamsin admitted.

Though his lips twitched upward, Roman said nothing. He had asked instead of assuming or taking over the problem. He hadn’t immediately tried to fix. She had actually asked for what she needed from him, too, instead of saying nothing. That felt like a victory in and of itself, and now he was doing precisely as she requested. Staying.

Tamsin had to bite her lip to keep from grinning with triumph for them both.

Now, time to give her full attention back to her brother. “You said I always know what to do.”

Leopold frowned. “You generally do, yes. It is something of a talent for you, it would seem.”

Slowly, Tamsin shook her head. “No, Leopold. It most certainly is not a talent. I am practiced in it, yes, because all of you spent years bringing all things to me.” She took a breath. “Anne brought me all the household matters she does not wish to interfere with her day. Father has always required me to answer letters and settle small disputes with servants and family. You bring me anything inconvenient to you. Charles used to ask for my help too, before he left home. All the younger ones know I will listen, that I will puzzle out their little problems and grievances when their parents will not.”

The only notable change in Leopold’s position or expression was the slight protrusion of his bottom lip, a thing she had not seen from him in decades. “That is not fair, Tamsin.”

He was not, she felt, agreeing. He disagreed with her assessment. “You do not think so?”

“I do not bring everything to you.” The expression of petulance increased.

As she suspected. “No. As I said, only the inconvenient things you have no wish to manage yourself.”

Leopold’s face reddened, and Tamsin felt Roman gently press her hand though he said nothing. That helped more than she had expected.

“Father ought to take an interest,” she continued. “You are right about that.”

Leopold’s expression eased at once.

“But his failure to do so does not make this my responsibility.”

The obvious vindication vanished. “Tamsin⁠—”

“No, Leo. Leo. Listen to me.”

And he did. Perhaps because she had never spoken to him this way before.

“I love you. I want you to be happy,” Tamsin affirmed. “And if Miss Despencer is the woman you have chosen, I sincerely hope she chooses you in return. But I cannot make her do so.”

Her brother looked away. “I did not ask you to.”

“You asked me to call upon her. You asked Father to speak to her family. You suggested I arrange an encounter here in my home. You have asked everyone what ought to be done, except for the one person who can actually answer you.”

His brow furrowed.

“Augusta,” Tamsin said plainly.

Her brother did not scoff. Not exactly. “I know that.”

“Do you?”

Leopold’s jaw tightened.

Tamsin softened her voice. “You knew her a fortnight before she went away.”