Chapter 23 #2
“I know,” Leopold said, interpreting the sigh exactly as she had meant it. “Which is why I thought perhaps you might speak with him.”
At last. The heart of the matter, and his true reason for visiting. Of course, he wanted her to intervene. She had the most success getting through to their ever-distracted father, if only because she had a small interest in birds herself.
She could speak to Father. She knew precisely how to do it. She could visit early, catch him at breakfast before he disappeared with his field glasses, explain why the matter was important, tell him exactly what Leopold needed him to say. Remind him of his fatherly duties—
A second thought came quite strongly to the forefront of her mind, a question she had learned to ask herself of late: did she want to take responsibility for this matter?
No. Not in the least.
Leopold continued, encouraged by her silence. “Perhaps you might call also upon Augusta. Having a baron in the family ought to be of use, and you are his wife. She would be impressed, and her mother—”
“No.”
He stopped talking at once, clearly perplexed. “No?”
The word had come out before Tamsin had entirely decided to say it. But she rather liked the sound of it. “No.”
“But you have not heard what I was going to ask.”
Patience, that would be key. “You asked me to speak to Father, and call upon Miss Despencer.”
“Yes, but there was more to it than that—”
“And discover what she thinks of you, and do my best to increase her regard for you, using my position,” finished Tamsin with a raised brow.
At this her brother shrugged, not at all chagrined. “Not in those exact words.”
That made her smile with the slightest touch of amusement. “Then in prettier ones. You have the knack for words.”
His forehead creased, his mouth going slack for an instant before tightening. “You are Lady Hartwell now. Her mother could hardly object to your calling. If you invited Augusta to visit—”
“Why, Leopold?” She was not going to lose her temper. “What am I meant to do once Miss Despencer and I are seated here, together?”
“Nothing. Only—”
“Invite you to attend on us?”
He looked down at his coat and smoothed the lapels. “I did not suggest that.”
“You did not have to.” Tamsin inhaled slowly. “You want me to smooth your way by speaking to her mother, her family, then invite her into my home. You want me to impress her and then give you access to her once she is suitably primed for your attention to be flattering.”
Understanding the way he thought, the way he knew she would likely react, was rather like looking down at the sketch of a stranger and discovering it was oneself, but from a perspective never seen before.
There was something fascinating about it, now that she had stopped trying to solve the problem.
He had asked Father to act. Now he wanted Tamsin to intervene and provide her husband’s influence.
He wanted Miss Despencer’s parents persuaded.
He wanted an invitation plotted and executed.
Everyone seemed to have a part in Leopold’s courtship… except Leopold.
And still, he said nothing. Tamsin sighed. “Have you spoken to her?”
The corners of his mouth turned down. “I told you. Twice.”
Patience… “No. You called upon her family. Have you spoken to Miss Despencer?”
“I did not ask for a private audience.”
“That is not what I asked, Leo.” Goodness, he was more work than Henry sometimes. “Allow me to be clear, as I am growing quite weary of having to ask a dozen questions for a single answer. Have you asked her whether she wishes you to continue courting her?”
His expression changed, and Tamsin had her answer.
Her shoulders fell. “Leo.”
“What am I supposed to say?” he protested.
“Why do you ask me what to say?” Her exasperation rose to new heights.
“You always know what everyone is supposed to do.”
The words struck her with surprising force. Tamsin stared, disbelief sinking into her stomach and making itself at home.
Leopold appeared not to realize what he had said. “That is why I came, you—you understand these things. You know what Anne will think before she says it. You can make Father pay attention, you…you know how to arrange matters so everyone is satisfied.”
Which was precisely what she had done for most of her life. She had cajoled, reasoned with, appeased, appealed to everyone in the family to make things easier. For everyone.
Everyone except herself.
A movement at the drawing-room door caught her attention. Roman. She had not heard the door open. His gaze moved from Leopold to her taking in the room in a glance, brow furrowing.
How much had he heard?
“Tamsin. Are we having our luncheon in this room?”
Leopold exhaled with obvious relief. “Hartwell. Good, perhaps you can talk sense into your wife.”
“I find my wife is usually the one speaking sense, at least when compared to everyone else’s nonsense.” Roman’s expression remained serious as he entered the room, coming to stand beside her chair. He bent and kissed her cheek before taking a seat near her. “What has happened, Mayweather?”
Leopold began his story again immediately, and with sharp clarity. “Miss Despencer has returned from Scotland, and her family—”
Roman listened without interruption and her brother neither paused nor prevaricated this time. Why? Tamsin had to ask a dozen questions to get a full view of the situation, but Leopold did not play that game with her husband.
She watched her husband while Leopold explained the situation, though this version of it involved rather more interference from Miss Despencer’s family and considerably less uncertainty from Miss Despencer herself.
Roman’s eyes met Tamsin’s once. She knew that look.
He already had an opinion, and likely had several clever things to say about it, too.
When Leopold finished, Roman was silent for a moment. Then he looked at Tamsin, expression neutral as ever, his eyes steady when they met hers. “What do you need from me, Tamsin?”
Leopold dropped onto the sofa, jaw slack. He did not protest, nor say a single word.
Neither did Tamsin. Roman continued to wait, without so much as a flicker of discomfort.
The silence stretched as she considered his question.
What was he really asking? Her first instinct was to tell him what Leopold wanted; perhaps even point out that her father ought to take greater interest in his son’s future.
Leopold ought not be left entirely without guidance.
Someone needed to determine whether Miss Despencer’s family had truly withdrawn their approval.
None of that answered his question, though. Not really. And Roman was always precise with his wording. He wanted to know what she needed from him.
Tamsin’s gaze dropped briefly to his hand resting on the arm of the chair nearest her.
He had recently returned home, a folded paper in one hand.
He had probably intended to go directly to his study.
Micklegate’s barbican needed him. Mr. Hargrove needed things to print.
Mr. Holly was consulted on all legal matters at all hours of the day of late.
Mr. Patchett continued his harassment. Mr. Salmond had as likely as not written.
There would be estate affairs on his desk needing attention.
Lyness’s wedding hastened forward. There was always something waiting for him now.
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.