Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Tamsin descended the grand staircase the following morning, her hand gliding over the cool mahogany banister.
She still couldn’t believe how understanding Rowan had been to her last night.
Gratitude filled her that he’d agreed to give her some time to get to know him before demanding his marital rights, but she also felt a frisson of discomfort.
Was he angry that he’d been denied? Would he grow bored with her long before she was ready and turn his attention elsewhere?
Perhaps it would be best to admit that would be the inevitable outcome and stem the optimism that had been steadily growing within her. She’d somehow managed to intrigue him momentarily, but she knew it wouldn’t last.
She had dressed with particular care in a morning gown of primrose silk, wanting to look every bit the mistress of the house and hoping Rowan would notice as well.
As she approached the morning room, she expected the usual hushed, empty hallways of a house still waking up.
Instead, she found the wide gallery outside the breakfast parlor occupied by a long, silent line of servants.
Rowan was standing at the head of the line, looking crisp in a deep blue frock coat. He turned as she approached, and his welcoming smile made her heart skip in her chest. He didn’t wait for her to reach him. Instead, he stepped forward and took her hand, drawing her into the center of the hall.
“Good morning, Tamsin,” he said, his voice pitched low so only she could hear his casual use of her given name. “As we discussed last night, I thought it best that you meet everyone properly before the day begins.”
Tamsin’s breath caught. There were nearly twenty household staff, arranged in line by rank.
At the front stood the butler, Stephens, his face a granite mask of professionalism, followed by a formidable woman in black silk whom Tamsin assumed was Mrs. Halloway, the housekeeper.
Behind them stood the footmen in their stiff liveries, her lady’s maid, Jane, the housemaids in starched aprons, the grooms, and even the young scullery maids and stable lads who looked as though they were trying very hard not to fidget.
“This is Lady Haversham,” Rowan announced, his hand remaining firmly on hers. “Her word in this house is as my own. You will take your directions from her, and I expect the same standard of excellence you have shown me to be extended to your new mistress.”
One by one, they bowed or curtsied as Rowan took her down the row and introduced each of the servants by name.
Stephens was as impassive as ever, while Mrs. Halloway’s greeting was polite but sharp-eyed, as if she were mentally cataloging Tamsin’s worthiness.
The rest merely bowed or curtsied without making eye contact with her.
“I am pleased to meet you all,” Tamsin said, feeling more comfortable once the introductions were complete.
She met Mrs. Halloway’s gaze with a polite, firm smile, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.
“I look forward to sitting down with you and discussing the household accounts and preparations for the holidays. I have no doubt we shall find a very pleasant rhythm together.”
She felt a slight squeeze from Rowan’s hand—a silent well done. It warmed her in a way she couldn’t explain. She’d rarely been the recipient of praise. In fact, Nicolas had done nothing but scoff at her and chastise her since their parents had died.
“I’m certain we will, my lady,” Mrs. Holloway replied, her tone neutral.
“Thank you,” Rowan said, his voice booming down the line. “You may return to your duties.”
They either bowed or curtsied one final time, then disappeared back into the bowels of the house with the efficiency of a retreating army. Rowan gave her a brief smile, then led her into the breakfast parlor. The sun was streaming through the tall windows, glinting off the silver tea service.
“You handled that very well,” he remarked as he pulled out her chair—the one right next to his, she noted with a surge of warmth. “I believe they will all show you the respect you deserve, but if you have any trouble, just let me know.”
Tamsin sat, giving him a tentative smile. “Thank you for doing that, Rowan. It made me feel as though I belong here.”
“It’s a start,” he said, reaching for the coffee.
The gravity of the Earl of Haversham suddenly dropped from his shoulders, replaced by a restless, boyish energy.
“I find I have very little desire to sit through a morning of correspondence and estate matters. Would you like to go for a ride? The air is crisp, the leaves are turning, and for once, the sky over London is as blue as a robin’s egg. ”
“I would love to,” she said quickly, excited at the thought of being on horseback with her husband beside her. She hadn’t gone riding in quite some time.
He grinned. “Change into your habit. We’ll take a quick dash down the Row before the rest of Mayfair wakes up and turns the park into a madhouse.”
Tamsin nodded. “I’ll meet you in the stables in fifteen minutes.”
The stables of Haversham House smelled of sweet hay, oiled leather, and the warm, musk-heavy scent of well-bred horses.
Tamsin emerged from the back door of the house, her emerald-green riding habit swishing against her boots.
Rowan was already there, leaning against the stall of a powerful bay gelding, his own boots dusty and his cravat tied with less than his usual precision.
The head groom, a man whose face was a map of weathered lines, watched them with a keen eye. His name was Graham, she recalled. As Rowan helped Tamsin into the saddle of a sleek, intelligent-looking mare, the groom nodded toward her. “Moondancer is gentle as can be, my lord. They’ll get on well.”
“I’ve no doubt of it, Graham.” Rowan swung into his own saddle with an easy grace that Tamsin felt represented him very well.
If she’d ever met a more beautiful, elegant man, she couldn’t remember it.
He lived easily in his big, lean body, with a physicality that most of the soft, foppish men of their class could never replicate.
They moved out of the stable yard at a brisk walk, the clatter of hooves on cobblestones eventually giving way to the soft turf of Hyde Park.
The morning mist was still clinging to the Serpentine, a silver veil that blurred the edges of the city.
The trees that lined the river were a breathtaking array of gold, orange, and red.
For a few glorious minutes, they were alone in this small pocket of nature in the bustling city.
Once he’d ascertained that Tamsin was comfortable on Moondancer, Rowan signaled for a gallop, and Tamsin didn’t hesitate.
They tore across the grass, the wind whipping at her hair, and the rhythmic thrum of the horses’ hooves echoing her own pulse.
When they finally slowed to a walk again near the water’s edge, both were breathless and flushed.
“You ride very well,” Rowan said approvingly.
“The fresh air agrees with you. I love it out here. At least until the ton shows up to see and be seen. I know we’ll have to accept some invitations and spend some of our evenings in stuffy ballrooms, but I hate it.
I sense you do, too. You’re perfect at maintaining the facade, but when you’re surrounded by people, you’re... careful. Tense.”
The fact that he’d noticed her at social events surprised her. He’d certainly never given any indication that he even knew she was alive until that night at Vauxhall Gardens. Heat rushed to her cheeks, as always, at the memory of what she’d seen.
“I hate the strict social constraints,” she admitted, smoothing the mare’s mane. “Thank you for this, Rowan. I hope we will make a habit of it.”
“I would like that,” he assured her, reaching over to briefly catch her gloved hand in his. “I am very glad you’re enjoying it.”
They watched the ducks on the river for a few minutes, then reluctantly headed back to the house.
As they turned into the square, the quiet was gone.
Two carriage teams were already stationed near the curb in front of Haversham House, and a small knot of footmen were gathered near the servants’ entrance.
They dismounted in front of the house, and the groom took the horses back to the stable. When they entered the foyer, Stephens stepped forward, carrying a silver salver that was already burdened with a small mountain of stiff, white calling cards.
“There have been dozens of requests to call this afternoon, my lady,” Stephens said.
Nervousness settled in the pit of Tamsin’s stomach.
She hadn’t even considered that the ton would descend upon her this afternoon, but…
of course. Everyone was curious. She accepted the tray and set it on a nearby table, looking through it, and some of the anxiety dissipated when she saw that most of the names were her friends.
Olivia, Rose, a few other friends, and, surprisingly, the Countess of Whitby, whom she immediately realized had wed the Rake of September two years ago.
Could she be coming to provide moral support for Tamsin?
She went through all the cards and gave the butler half a dozen she considered safe. “Send a footman out to tell these ones I’ll be home this afternoon. Send my regrets to the rest.”
Rowan reached over and squeezed her hand.
“I had hoped to spend the whole day with you, but I know you must receive some visitors. No doubt your brother is sending his wife to make certain you’re still in one piece after spending the night with me.
Try not to completely destroy my reputation by telling them all that I left you at your door. ”
She squeezed his hand in return. “I think your restraint was the kindest gift you could have given me.”
Heedless of the butler’s presence, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss on her forehead. “I look forward to dinner. I’ll see if I can’t come up with something a little more intimate tonight.”