Chapter 27 #3
He wanted to tell his wife about his evening. Not because she ought to know where he had been; certainly not because Salmond’s society required anything of Hartwell House. There was no decision upon which he required Tamsin’s opinion. He simply wanted to tell her.
Roman found Tamsin in the drawing room, one foot tucked beneath her skirts and reading upon the sofa, a lamp burning beside her; the fire had fallen low enough that someone ought to have attended to it. He stopped in the doorway and beheld her.
Tamsin looked up. Something changed in her face when she saw him—not alarm. Curiosity. That beautiful, bright look in her eyes he had noticed upon their first meeting in September. “I am afraid your mother retired for the evening. You are quite late, Roman.”
“I am.” He took one step inside the room, watching her, barely acknowledging Apollo coming to greet him.
“And how did you find Salmond’s meeting?”
Roman crossed the room to stand in front of the fire a moment, warming his hands. “Extraordinary.”
“Really?” There was a spark of interest in her voice, making so simple a word sound lovely.
Roman settled on the sofa beside her, near enough to touch her hand if he wished. Tamsin closed her book over one finger. She was ready to listen if he wished to speak, but would not pull the words from him.
He hesitated, but not because he had nothing to say. He had too much. “They have founded it.” He laughed softly and tapped his finger on the cushion between them. “The Yorkshire Philosophical Society.”
She hummed. “That sounds very grand.”
“It sounds considerably grander than the proceedings warranted.”
Her mouth curved. “That is often the way of things, I fear.”
He smiled. “Indeed. There was an argument about stones.”
“Was there?”
“Apparently they are not stones.”
Tamsin’s smile widened. “What are they?”
Roman opened his mouth and discovered he could not adequately answer. “That question is considerably more complicated than it ought to be.”
She laughed. Roman was pleased to hear that lightness from her, doubly so that he was the one who brought it out.
“Salmond means to establish a collection—and not merely of fossils, either. He and the others want to establish a place to collect natural history, antiquities, geological specimens. They spoke of botany as well, though I confess that portion of the discussion escaped me. How does one collect living things without it simply becoming a garden? But the intention is to gather such items here in York where they can be studied.”
That had her setting her book aside and leaning toward him. “By anyone?”
He should have expected that question. “No.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders fell, the spark in her eyes dimming.
He took her hand gently, running his thumb across her knuckles. “Not yet, at least. That was one of the questions I asked. There are practical difficulties.”
“There always are, but I cannot tell if they were there before or because you become involved in a matter,” she said with a tart twist to her lips, her expression unrepentant.
He huffed. “The society requires rules, my lady.”
“Of course they do.”
He chuckled and leaned closer, gazing at Tamsin from beneath his raised brows. “They do.”
Her features smoothed into innocence. “Did they have none before you arrived?”
“Not enough.”
That made her laugh again.
Roman found himself telling her about Salmond, the man with the spectacles, the fossil. He attempted to explain what he had been told about the layers of earth in which such things were found, discovered halfway through he had misunderstood some portion of it, corrected himself, and tried again.
Tamsin listened—and not politely. That was the triumph of his evening. He knew what her polite attention looked like; he had seen her employ it upon any number of people who deserved far less of her patience, including him of late. This was something else.
Her questions kept changing the direction of his thoughts. “How do they know how old it is?”
Roman explained what he could, which seemed little now he spoke aloud.
His wife frowned. “But if no one knows precisely what the creature was, how do they know those bones belong together?”
He had to think about that. “I am not certain.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yes. But the answers will no more satisfy you than they did me.”
“You should have written them down. Perhaps we could discuss them.”
“I shall, next time.” The answer came before Roman considered it. Tamsin looked at him, and he realized what he had said. He was going back. The prospect did not feel like an obligation, either. It felt…exciting. “But I hope you will be with me. Next time.”