Chapter 15 #2
A soft tap at the door preceded the entrance of two maids carrying trays of food and tea, respectively, and Mrs. Briers herself.
The housekeeper carried a small occasional table and placed it before Tamsin, mindful of Athena.
The maids quickly filled the tray-like top of the table with tea, toast, eggs, sliced ham, fruit, and cutlery.
The maids curtsied and left, while Mrs. Briers politely asked, “Will there be anything else my lord? My lady?”
Roman looked at Tamsin, eyebrows raised.
“No, not at present,” she said when she realized he was waiting for her to reply. “Thank you, Mrs. Briers.”
Roman’s expression settled into the most familiar, calm look Tamsin was used to.
“Perhaps, Mrs. Briers, you could return after the baroness is finished with her breakfast? She will need a proper tour of the house. And…” He glanced at Tamsin again.
“ And if she has any questions about the management, or changes she wishes to make, it would be an excellent opportunity for such a discussion.”
“As you say, my lord.” Mrs. Briers curtsied, all deferential politeness, before leaving the room.
Tamsin stared, his suggestion not at all what she expected for her first day in the household.
“Roman. What will your mother think? I cannot even begin to imagine changing a thing when she is still living in this house—and the instant she has momentarily left it? Surely she will not wish to relinquish that responsibility to me so quickly.”
That elicited something new. Her husband’s eyes widened, followed by a moment of confused blinking.
“It was my mother’s idea. Did she not mention it?
I suppose things have been rather chaotic of late.
” He leaned forward. “My mother will, of course, begin your tutelage for your duties and responsibilities as a baroness as soon as she returns. She told me she did not wish you to feel ‘under observation’ from the first. Let me reassure you, Tamsin, you have her full support in this matter. I think my mother is looking forward to a less demanding role.”
Tamsin found herself nodding. Well, there was a logic there. And she had practically run her family’s household for the last decade. It would not be difficult to take what she already knew and build upon it. “Yes, of course. That is a relief. Thank you.”
She looked down at her breakfast, her stomach knotting with nerves. But she could do this. She would do this.
But first, she needed sustenance.
She started on her breakfast, not certain how much progress she would make feeling as she did. “Will you be away much today?”
He took a long moment to answer. When she looked up at him, Roman tilted his head the same way Athena had when curious.
Oh dear. Her stepmother never asked, at least in front of Tamsin, what her husband’s schedule was. Perhaps wives were not supposed to question such things?
“I will return home for dinner. We can share our respective days with each other this evening, if you wish.” He pushed himself to his feet slowly. “For now, though, I must be on my way. I hope your day is pleasant, Tamsin.”
So soon?
She rose a little awkwardly, trying not to upset the table with her breakfast. “I am certain it will be, and I hope yours holds equal satisfaction for you.” At last she smiled, hoping he would find it reassuring that his bride did not sulk when he left.
She had not imagined her first day in his home would be spent alone with the housekeeper, but it took that moment for her to realize she hoped he would stay with her; that he would be the one to help her grow familiar with her new home.
It was a silly thought. A man of his importance had better things to do.
“Until then, Lady Hartwell.” Roman bowed, and his smile broadened. Did he genuinely enjoy using her title? He stepped to the door and opened it, then looked at Athena. He tapped his thigh with two fingers. “Komm, Athena. You are too large to be underfoot.”
Athena rose, but then immediately sat back down, pressed against Tamsin’s leg and looking up at Tamsin with her big, warm eyes.
Tamsin stared at the dog in disbelief, then looked up at Roman. “I must have distracted her—or she wants my breakfast. You better ask her again.”
His brows drew together. “That isn’t like her. Athena. Komm.”
She snorted through her nose and kept looking at Tamsin, who suddenly knew what the dog was asking. She had seen a similar look on her youngest siblings’ faces. She bit her lip to keep her smile at bay.
Do I really have to do what he says?
“Yes, Athena. Go with him.” She pointed toward Roman. “Off with you.”
Athena rose and walked over to him, head low.
“Well I never,” Roman muttered, staring at the dog in fascination. At least he did not seem upset by this strange change in allegiance. “What has come over her?” He met Tamsin’s gaze. “Have you bewitched my dog, baroness?”
This time his expression made her catch her breath, if only for a moment. A broad smile, a gleam in his eyes, good humor in the tilt of his head—it all together made him twice as handsome as before.
And no one would ever say Roman Eastwood was unattractive.
“I must have,” Tamsin said in a whisper. “Though it was unintentional, I promise.”
Athena looked back at her, tail wagging. The adorable giant. She loved her all the more in that moment.
Which was why she asked, “Can she stay? Or do you need her? I would not mind her company.”
“No. I do not suppose you would.” Roman’s smile softened. “She can stay. Athena. Bleib.”
Tamsin raised her eyebrows as Athena happily returned to her side. “Bleeb?”
“German for stay. Bleib.” He smiled. “I will have to teach you the commands, it seems. Perhaps we should find you a language tutor.” He bowed again. “Until this evening, Lady Hartwell.”
She sank her fingers into Athena’s fur and curtsied a final time. “I look forward to it, Lord Hartwell.”
He closed the door behind him.
Tamsin picked up a piece of bacon from her plate and held it out to the dog. “Is this what you really wanted?”
Athena tilted her head and looked past the bacon at her. Hmm.
Tamsin held it closer to the dog’s snout. “Well, you may have it anyway, with my thanks. I will feel far less alone with you by my side, Athena.”
The large dog took the bacon delicately, snapping it in her mouth once Tamsin’s hand was clear. The behavior was remarkable. Tamsin had brothers who snatched and ate bacon faster than Athena had—and as for the rare times she got between Charles and chocolate cake…
The thought made her chuckle, and she settled back into her chair to finish her breakfast. She had a long day ahead if she wished to show her new husband she could be a proper baroness.
Dinsdale held up the dark blue coat, then the black, weighing some private thoughts of his own before offering the blue. “This one, my lord, I think. Given the occasion.”
“The occasion being, dinner in my own home?” Roman said, but turned without further argument and slipped the coat on with his valet’s assistance.
“The occasion being your lady’s first proper dinner as mistress of the house.
” Dinsdale spoke as always: without inflection, requiring no response.
He’d been with Roman six years and had long since stopped expecting reprimands for sharing his opinions, which perhaps was why he never withheld them.
“Mrs. Briers tells me the new baroness asked this afternoon what your favorite pudding was. My lady wished to be certain it was on the table tonight.”
“Did she.” Roman held still while his valet settled the coat over his shoulders, and found he was absurdly pleased; that Tamsin had thought to ask, had wanted to get some small thing right for him specifically, rather than simply managing dinner the way she’d have managed any dinner in any house.
He had not stopped thinking of her all day.
Not in any manner that interfered with his correspondence—he had answered Sir George’s letter on the corporation’s funding scheme with his usual clarity, had reviewed Lyness’s figures for the northern tenancies without error—but in the spaces between tasks, when his mind was permitted to wander, it wandered reliably to the same place: to the previous evening.
Their wedding night.
Roman had been careful. He had been, he believed, as careful as a man could be with a woman who’d had no mother these fifteen years to prepare her, and a stepmother whose notion of preparation had apparently amounted to very little.
He had gone slowly. He had watched her face more than perhaps was usual, watched for any sign she was frightened, or in pain, or simply enduring him rather than wanting him. He believed—that is, he was fairly certain—that what he’d found in her gaze was something akin to trust.
But belief was not certainty, and Roman did not care for uncertainty in this matter.
How did one really know without asking directly? Speaking of such delicate matters was not precisely something anyone had prepared him for at any point in his life.
“You’re expected at the Merchant Adventurers’ Hall Thursday next,” Dinsdale said, adjusting the line of the coat at his master’s shoulders with the small, proprietary tug he always gave it. “A card came by hand this evening. I set it on your desk.”
“Thursday,” Roman repeated, half attending the conversation. His thoughts were far too persistent for more than that.
Had she been happy, afterward? He had asked her, in the dark, whether she was well, and she had said yes in a voice that sounded steady enough.
But Tamsin had spent a decade learning to say I am well to people who did not particularly wish to hear otherwise, and Roman was uncomfortably aware he did not yet know the difference between her honest yes and her practiced one.
He wanted, most sincerely, for last night to have been the former. Hated the thought of her pain uncomforted. Longed for her to have felt cherished.