Chapter 19 #2
“Nearly eight-year-old.”
Roman gave her a look. One she had not seen before. “Tamsin. That is not the point.”
Discomfort swirled in her chest. “No. I suppose not.”
He leaned closer, resting one hand on the back of her chair. “You do not have to go every time they send for you—nor answer every small difficulty the way you would if it were an emergency.”
The words were not sharp. That made them worse. She knew they ought to be true, but Roman simply did not understand. Not yet—but he would. “They haven’t sent for me. Anne wrote because Henry is upset.”
The look wasn’t pitying, and that made it worse. “She specifically asked you to come.”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin. “That is a request, not a demand. Sending for someone is a demand.”
Gaze steady upon her, Roman leaned in closer. “And before you finished reading the letter, you had rearranged your day to fulfill that ‘request.’”
Tamsin’s lips parted. How could he possibly know that? “It—it is hardly a great sacrifice.”
His sigh was heavy. “I never said that it was.”
“He is my brother. My youngest sibling—”
“I know. We established that I am quite aware of who and what Henry is. Seven years old. A little boy who adores dogs. I am rather partial to him myself.”
That did not pull her good humor back. If anything, it made her more ruffled by his lack of understanding. “Then I do not understand what we are arguing about.”
Roman’s expression changed. The gleam went away entirely. “Are we arguing?”
Tamsin could not wrangle her words any better than to admit, “I believe we may be.”
That made him frown. He exhaled and straightened. “I would rather you not feel obliged to solve every difficulty that occurs at Sycamore Lodge simply because you did so before we married.”
Something uncomfortable moved beneath her ribs. “I am not attempting to solve every problem.”
He paced away from the desk, away from her, hands tucked behind his back. “I see.”
The easy agreement irritated her more than disagreement would have. “I am going because Henry wants something none of them understand.”
Roman glanced at the letter on the desk. “And you will understand where they do not?”
Tamsin hesitated. “I…I have no way of knowing that.”
His expression answered before he did. “Exactly.”
What an exasperating man. She gripped her hands together in her lap. “And that lack of knowledge is why I mean to go.”
For several seconds they regarded one another across the desk. Then Roman nodded. “Very well.”
The capitulation came so readily that Tamsin felt faintly foolish for having braced herself against him. She picked up the pen. Most unexpected. She hardly knew what to say. “I will be home before the dinner hour?”
Even to her ears, it sounded like a question.
Roman stepped near the desk again. “I hope your visitors today enjoy your company.”
“Thank you. I do, too.”
He bent and kissed the top of her head, an absent touch that warmed her despite everything. “I have correspondence to finish, and will have need of the carriage before you.” He patted his thigh and called Athena. She rose and padded up to him, tail wagging.
“Micklegate business?”
A slight smirk bent his lips. “When is it anything else?”
There was enough awareness in the answer to make her smile as he returned to his study.
Tamsin finished her note just before her mother-in-law joined her to greet their first visitor.
The visits themselves were quite pleasant.
Most brought a small gift for her household, such as tea or books for household management.
A few brought flowers from hot houses or fruits and nuts from family orchards, as was appropriate for calling upon a bride.
It was arguably a peaceful afternoon, but by the end of it she was quite tired.
When the last guest left, she rose and said to one of the footmen, “See to it that the carriage is ordered for my visit to Sycamore Lodge. I will be ready in half an hour.”
That would give her time to change clothing and take some headache powder.
“Oh dear.” Frances rose, with Princessa immediately jumping from the couch beside her. “Is something the matter? I did not know you had a visit to your family planned today.”
“It is nothing,” Tamsin said quickly. “I already spoke to Roman about it, and will be home before dinner.” She gave her mother-in-law a reassuring smile. “One of my little brothers needs me, is all.”
The Dowager Baroness nodded her understanding, though her brows drew together. “Of course, my dear. You are a most dutiful sister. I myself always have a nap after my guests leave—I enjoy the visits, but it does wear a little on one’s mind.”
“I think I will adopt that practice as well. Next time.” Tamsin laughed softly as she led the way from the room to the stairs. “I cannot say I have often had the opportunity to nap, but it does sound like the perfect luxury on a day like today.” Especially when her head ached.
It ached all the more a short while later.
Not only was there no nap, but the carriage was not ready either.
A quarter of an hour into dressing her mistress, Eliza answered a knock at the door.
The maid returned to Tamsin’s dressing room appearing apologetic.
“His lordship left word that you were to wait before going out, my lady. The carriage is not here.”
Tamsin lowered her hands instead of buttoning her spencer. “Why?”
“I do not know, my lady.”
That was strange. Roman had never countermanded an instruction she gave to the servants. Indeed, he had been quite firm from the beginning that her authority within the house was to be treated exactly as his own. She removed the spencer. “Where is Lord Hartwell?”
“I believe he is out with the carriage at present.”
Still? “Did he leave word as to where he went?”
“Not that I am aware, my lady.”
Tamsin stared at her maid, then at the clock. Something cold and unpleasant began gathering at the base of her spine, a knot she could not unpick. “Thank you, Eliza. We are finished for now, then.”
After all, she had only to put on spencer, gloves, and bonnet to be ready for her visit.
Without the carriage, there was no need for those things.
If she had to wait upon her husband’s return, there was nothing left for her to do.
She went downstairs, where she sat in the front sitting room and attempted to read.
The dogs were home and both joined her. Apollo stretched out near the fire, Athena resting her heavy chin on Tamsin’s shoe.
The book failed to keep Tamsin’s attention. She rose and went to the desk where there were invitations to answer. Athena rose and followed, again settling at Tamsin’s feet.
She attempted to answer an invitation and found herself writing the same sentence twice. She huffed and stood, going to the window to watch the street. Athena made a similar sound of impatience and joined her, sitting up, ears perked and eyes on the outside world.
Smiling despite herself, Tamsin put her hand on the dog’s large head. “You are a most attentive companion, Athena.” The dog’s tail wagged once then went still.
By the time she saw their carriage arrive, she had paced the length of the room several times. She’d also reread Anne’s letter, now folded into quarters between her fingers. She went to the door to the hall and opened it at the same moment her husband entered the house.
Roman blinked in surprise as he handed his hat and gloves to the footman. “Ah. Tamsin! Good, you are precisely where I need you to be.” He looked irritatingly pleased with himself.
Her chin came up. Where else would she be, given that he had taken the family carriage? When he knew she needed it? She kept those questions to herself and instead asked, in as even a tone as possible, “Roman. Where have you been?”
“Sycamore Lodge.” He walked by her and into the sitting room, where both dogs rose to greet him.
Sycamore Lodge? Her fingers tightened around the letter as she followed. Somehow, she was not surprised. “You went to see my family?”
“I spoke with your father.”
“You spoke with my father.” She felt like a trained parrot, repeating him that way.
“Yes.” Roman bent to scratch both dogs behind their ears, murmuring soft praises to them for their mere existence.
He bore the maddening composure of a man who believed everything in the world was precisely as it ought to be.
He looked up at her, still with his hands full of furry adoration.
“Henry will remain at home for the present. Your father agreed there is no point in disrupting an arrangement serving everyone perfectly well. Mrs. Keating is more than capable, and if Henry wishes for more advanced instruction in another year or two, the question can be considered then.”
Tamsin stared, her chest tight and her mind suddenly full of too many things to express at once. None of them were pleasant.
A deep, long, slow breath did naught but give air to her lungs. Calm, much wanted, did not arrive.
Roman stared, satisfaction leaving his face by degrees. “Tamsin? Is something amiss?”
She would have to manufacture calm, if she could not find it. “You went to my father.”
“Yes.” His brow furrowed and he slowly came to his feet. “As I said.”
“And told him Henry is not to go away to school.” Really, she should be congratulated, her voice remaining so level.
Her husband’s frown deepened. “I did not presume to tell him anything. I discussed the matter with him.”
“Did you speak to Henry?”
Roman shook his head slightly. “No. He was at his lessons.”
Oh goodness. Save her from well-meaning men. “Did you ask Father whether he had spoken to Henry?”
The downturn of his lips answered the question. “I—”
“Did you ask why Henry wants to go?” Her impatience, so rarely exhibited and usually well repressed, was pushing all her frustration forward while her temples throbbed.
“Tamsin.”
When was this headache powder supposed to start working? “Did you speak to Henry, Roman?”
He blinked. “No. I did not consult the seven-year-old boy that the rest of you seem content to allow to manage the entire household.”