Page 109 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

She had considered speaking to him at breakfast, but breakfast came with servants and newspapers and the ordinary business of beginning a day. Roman had gone out before she could catch him alone, and Tamsin had spent the intervening hours discovering that resolve did not become easier simply because one had several hours in which to practice.

By dinner, she had nearly convinced herself another day would make no difference. That thought frightened her enough to act.

She waited until the meal was finished and Roman had risen from the table. He came around to her chair as he had taken to doing, bent, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I have some correspondence I ought to finish.”

A familiar line at this point, but she did not respond with her usual mild understanding. Instead, Tamsin put a hand on his arm before he stepped away. “Roman?”

He froze in place, eyes growing wider.

“I would like to speak with you before you go.”

His attention sharpened immediately. “Of course.”

There was nothing reluctant in the answer, which made it worse. The dining room suddenly seemed much too large for a conversation between two people. “Not in here, though.”

Roman studied her face, then offered his hand to help her rise. They went to the drawing room, where tea waited for them. Athena and Apollo appeared from somewhere in the corridor and followed too, which Tamsin might ordinarily have found amusing. Tonight she was grateful for the dogs’ quiet presence. Roman waited until she chose a chair before taking the one opposite her.

Not beside her, Tamsin noticed. She wished she had not. But then, perhaps he wished only to give her his full focus by facing her directly. She could take heart in that.

The dogs settled on the carpet between them, heads on paws, long bodies stretched out. Their ears stayed perked up as they sensed the tension in the room.

“What is it, Tamsin?” her husband asked quietly. “Is something the matter?”

She had rehearsed several beginnings during the day, trying for something eloquent to spare his feelings. All of them disappeared now as he looked directly into her husband’s beautiful blue eyes. “I am unhappy.”

Roman went completely still, his brows drawing together. He leaned forward, gaze intent upon hers. Tamsin had expected questions. Instead there was silence.

She continued. “I do not mean I am unhappy with everything—or that you have been unkind to me. You have not.” She looked down at her hands and made herself unfold them. “That is part of what has made this so difficult to understand.”

He drew in a hasty breath. “Tamsin, I have not intended⁠—”

“Please, let me finish.” She would need to get it all out at once or risk leaving something important unsaid.

Roman stopped. That respect, given with simple quiet was somehow the hardest part. He always listened when she asked him to. It would have been easier to speak hard things if he were a worse husband.

“I know the vote hurt you,” Tamsin said quietly. “I know how much the walls, the bars, and all of York matter to you. You spent weeks thinking of little else, telling me all the history and legends you know, showing me stone by stone why it mattered. You made me care about it too.” His forehead smoothed as his head lifted at that, but she continued. “And then you lost it, and you shut the door.”

Roman raised his eyebrows but did not speak, respecting her request.

“The door between our rooms,” she clarified, though she did not think he needed it. “I thought you needed time, so I gave it to you. I told myself you needed quiet, or rest, or simply an evening free of my questions. Each reason seemed perfectly sensible, on its own.”

Wincing with distress, Roman spoke with urgency. “Tamsin, I never meant for you to⁠—”

“I know.”

He fell silent again, pressing his lips together before nodding once for her to continue.

“I know you did not mean to hurt me. I know you were not punishing me, and you have simply been keeping yourself busy with matters truly needing your attention.” Tamsin drew in a breath. “I know all that, Roman. I have spent my life knowing other people cannot give me something.”

He flinched. It was very small, but she saw it.

“My father forgets because his mind is elsewhere. Anne needs help because she is overwhelmed. My brothers need things because no one has ever required them to manage those things for themselves. There has always been a reason, Roman. Most of the reasons are good ones.” She had not meant to speak of the Mayweathers, yet now she had, the truth seemed embarrassingly simple. “I know what it is to live in a house full of people and still be alone.”

Roman’s face turned pale. Apollo picked up his head to stare first at Roman then at Tamsin.

Tamsin looked directly at her husband. “I will not do that here. So I am telling you exactly how I feel, and I hope, exactly what it is I need from you.”

The words settled between them. Roman said nothing still, though he had not regained his color and his gaze had dropped to the carpet.