Page 111 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

She closed her eyes. For two weeks, those words would have been enough to bring her across the room. Tonight, they were not. “I wish you had told me before.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

When Frances returned to Hartwell House a few days later, accompanied by six trunks, three hatboxes, a new pelisse, and an expression of profound satisfaction with the world, Princessa happily swept away by a groom to be cared for, Tamsin regarded the older woman with immediate suspicion. Her mother-in-law was a cheerful sort, but the color in her cheeks was not something one normally associated with the rainy weather, or, indeed, traveling from Leeds in that weather.

“My dear girl.” Frances scarcely waited for Tamsin to complete her greeting before taking both her hands and kissing her cheek. “How well you look.”

“Not nearly so well as you, Mother.” Tamsin couldn’t help grinning back. “Welcome home.”

“It is good to be home.” Frances drew back, still holding her hands, and looked her over with thoroughness. Apparently satisfied to find her daughter-in-law in one piece, she grinned. “And it is very good to see you, Tamsin.”

The warmth of it caught Tamsin in a tender place. She had missed Frances. She had known that, of course, but she had not realized how much until the familiar voice and perfume and rustle of skirts filled the entryway again.

Roman stepped forward as his mother released his wife. “Mother.”

“My darling.” Frances embraced him with equal affection.

Her son kissed her cheek with a small smile. “You had a tolerable journey, I trust?”

“Oh, yes. Quite tolerable.” She stepped toward the looking glass to remove her gloves, handing them to the waiting maid. Her cheeks were still quite pink and her smile ever present. Tamsin tilted her head to one side as she studied the woman. Interesting.

“And my aunt is well?” Roman asked as a matter of courtesy, hands tucked behind his back, gaze on his mother’s things as they were carried up the stairs.

“Perfectly. Yes. I left Jane in good spirits.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

Tamsin looked between her husband and her mother-in-law’s reflection, and Frances returned her gaze with amusement. Something in the dowager’s expression suggested Roman had fulfilled every expectation of her son…but there was mischief in her eyes.

“I was pleased to discover Mr. Conyers still in residence in Leeds, though he has returned to York to visit his son and grandchildren again. I insisted he share my carriage rather than travel by post. It made the hours pass most pleasantly.”

That suddenly put a new light on the Dowager Baroness’s cheerful demeanor, and Tamsin glanced sideways at her husband to see if he’d noticed, but he simply nodded, accepting it as a perfectly reasonable and normal occurrence.

“Mr. Conyers has always been most obliging. I imagine you spoke at length of your rose gardens?” Nothing indicated Roman thought anything else might pass between his mother and a gentleman widower.

Slowly, Tamsin shook her head in wonder. Perhaps sons simply did not see their mothers the way one woman saw another. “They surely had more to speak about than that, Roman. Your mother and Mr. Conyers have been friends for many years, I understand—even when they were younger, in Leeds.”

Her husband still did not so much as raise a brow. “Indeed. Lifelong friends are often the best of company.”

Again, Tamsin met her mother-in-law’s gaze, this time with amusement—which Frances readily returned with a smile that fairly sparkled.

Within half an hour they were settled in the sitting room that opened to the garden, Frances refreshed by tea to give a full account of Leeds. Tamsin had expected stories of Frances’s sister, and she received them. She also heard about a concert at the Upper Rooms, an afternoon spent examining shops, an evening party Frances declared far too crowded to be enjoyable, and a gentleman’s name appearing with increasing regularity in all three accounts.

Mr. Conyers possessed excellent judgment regarding music. Mr. Conyers had known precisely where Frances might find a specific volume she had sought. Mr. Conyers had been acquainted with someone who knew someone who had made the return journey to York recently and could advise them upon the roads.

“How useful,” Roman said. “But then, Mr. Conyers has always been a conscientious gentleman.”

Frances paused with her teacup halfway to her lips. “Oh, yes. Very,” she said with a tone carrying more than polite agreement.

Tamsin lowered her eyes to her own cup, trying to hide her amusement.

Her mother-in-law began telling them about the book. “It was not to be had at the bookseller’s at all. I had quite given it up, but Mr. Conyers remembered seeing a copy elsewhere and took it upon himself to find it for me.”

“That was kind of him.” This time she hid her smile behind a biscuit. “Rather heroic, in a way.”

“Was it?” Frances asked, eyebrows raised with an innocent little blink. “I found it thoughtful, quite certainly.”

As they stared at one another, Frances’s mouth did not move. Neither did Tamsin’s. But something passed between them, nonetheless.