Chapter 15 #4
“Oh. It is the same every day, really.” Tamsin said it lightly, the way one might describe the weather, entirely unaware that he was listening for something beneath the words rather than simply to them.
She shared so much about herself without meaning to, he had seen that the first time they spoke in her family’s garden.
“I see the youngest ones fed first. Henry and George and Daisy take a simpler dinner in the kitchen. They are still young and learning their manners. After, I see that they properly wash and go to bed before I dress for dinner myself.”
“And the elder children dine separately.”
“Once they are old enough to sit properly at table, yes. Edward will likely begin to do so after Christmas—when he is home from school, of course. He is old enough now, though he still needs reminding not to interrupt others while they are speaking. And not to talk when his own mouth ought to be chewing.” She laughed, briefly, at some private memory.
“My father is not always present. Nor my stepmother, most evenings, if there’s a social meeting or a visit that runs long.
My stepmother sets the week’s menu on Mondays, generally—she’s very decided about wanting a proper joint of beef on Sundays—but I am the one who sees it actually manages.
If the butcher is short on the cut she wanted, or the fish does not come in on time, someone has to know what to put in its place before the cook is left standing there with nothing to serve.
I would rather take an hour rearranging a menu than waste a good piece of meat that could feed us for two more days. ”
She said all this the way a woman recited a well-worn errand—with nothing remarkable about it and entirely without complaint. It had apparently never occurred to her that a household of ten might reasonably employ someone specifically for the purposes she was describing so plainly.
Roman kept his expression even as his mind sifted through her words, the way it did in a meeting when a man across the table said something he did not intend to be revealing. “And who,” he asked, gently, “manages the household when you are not there to see to it?”
Tamsin blinked without comprehension. “I…I do not know. I suppose all that is in the past, now.” A small crease appeared between her brows—there and gone quickly, replaced by something more determinedly cheerful. “My stepmother will manage, of course. She did before I took on those duties.”
“Perhaps your sister next to you in age,” he suggested, watching her with care.
That brought a quick frown to his wife’s lovely face.
“Oh. Seraphina. I suppose she is old enough to help now, and it is valuable training for when she runs her own household.” She looked down at her gloves, adjusting the buttons at the wrist. “The house has been in good order for a long time. I am certain it will all continue well enough without me.”
Something about that suggestion did not sit well with her. Did she doubt her sister’s abilities? No, that thought did not settle comfortably.
“I am certain you are right,” Roman murmured, choosing not to say what he was thinking.
A house did not simply manage itself into good order for a decade because a stepmother wished it to. Whatever this last week had cost the Mayweather household in confusion over fish deliveries and untended younger children, no one else had been prepared for it.
Tamsin had held her family together in more ways than she knew. All of them were likely to come to that realization before long.
Athena that morning, refusing to leave Tamsin’s side until told twice, came to mind. Dogs, at least, seemed to know instinctively what people did not always trouble themselves to notice. They knew when someone ought to be looked after because they were precious.
“You needn’t concern yourself with any of that, here.
” Roman wanted to reassure her, but was aware even as he said it that it was an inadequate phrase to offer a woman who had just described, without any apparent awareness of having done so, a decade of running a household more complicated than his, on someone else’s authority, and with none of her own.
“Mrs. Briers manages the ordering. You will have oversight of it, in time, if you wish it— but there is no fish course resting on your judgment tonight, or any night. You need only enjoy the meal you ordered.”
“I know,” Tamsin said, looking at her lap. “It will take some getting used to, I am afraid.”
“Yes.” He leaned back in his chair, tipping his head to one side as he studied her, this woman who now shared his life. “I am certain it will. But I hope it will soon feel comfortable. Being a baroness ought to have some advantages, after all.”
That brought her gaze to his. “Indeed. I am eager to discover each and every one of those advantages, too.”
The door to the dining room opened, and the butler announced that dinner was served.
Roman rose and extended his hand to her. “Hopefully, a quiet table is one of them. At least for this evening.”
She took his hand. His heart pressed against his chest.
Tamsin’s eyes brightened, her concerned expression replaced completely with one of curiosity. “I hope not too quiet. I want to hear all about your day, if you are willing to share it.”
“I find I am most willing, my lady.” He led her to her chair. “I will tell you anything you wish to know.”
And was only half-surprised to discover that he meant it.