Page 47 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

It didn't comfort them. She hadn't expected it to. She only reached out and drew all three of them in at once, inelegantly, wedding gloves and all, and let them stand in her arms until they withdrew, when the noise of the breakfast called them all back to a room she no longer entirely belonged to.

Tamsin would not be far. Indeed, she could see them every day if she wished. But it would be different from this moment onward. All of them felt it. And, with a touch of guilt, she released the smallest sigh of relief.

Chapter Fifteen

The morning after her wedding, Tamsin found herself in her new mother-in-law’s favorite room looking out at the sleeping rose garden. It was apparently the room where her mother-in-law entertained during evenings when her roses were in bloom. At this time of the year, with the mid-morning sun fairly blocked by the buildings surrounding the small courtyard, it was a gray and silent place for one to think.

When Tamsin had dressed quietly and left her room, she had not wanted to find anyone else—but she also had not wanted to linger in her bed.

A bed she had shared with another the evening before.

Heat crept up the back of her neck at the memory of her wedding night: not shame, nor embarrassment, but memories of unexpected tenderness. “Thank goodness for Matilda,” she murmured aloud. “My dear friend’s explanation of what to expect was far more useful than my stepmother’s vague meanderings.”

She looked down at the only soul in the room to hear her. Athena. Her husband’s beautiful dog had been on the landing when Tamsin made her way downstairs, and now the large beast sat beside her, having whatever thoughts a dog had at such moments.

The house was quiet. Which made sense, she supposed. Her husband had woken hours before, and her mother-in-law was staying in their family’s country house this first week to give the newlyweds privacy.

“Can you imagine if she had stayed?” She rubbed Athena behind one ear. “I would have had to look her in the eye this morning, knowing she knew…oh dear. Not everything. But the general subject matter…” Her voice trailed away as her cheeks seemingly caught fire, given the way they felt in that moment.

Putting both hands on her cheeks, Tamsin took in a deep, trembling breath. Athena looked up and whined softly, leaning her shoulder into Tamsin’s thigh, perhaps sensing the distress of her new mistress.

“Never fear. It was not terrible, or anything like that. Roman is kind and thoughtful. Gentle.” She cleared her throat and sat in the nearest chair. Athena put her head in Tamsin’s lap, her big brown eyes full of sympathy. “Yes. I am merely surprised by how…not surprised I am.” She returned to giving Athena gentle pets, stroking from the top of her large skull down the back of her neck to her shoulders. “I think it all went well, though I dare not ask. How would one even ask such a thing of a man? That would presume he knows so much more on the matter. If it was terrible, I would rather not know.”

Athena huffed as though she understood, which drew a soft giggle from Tamsin, and she leaned her head back against the chair, relaxing at last.

“Precisely. A change of subject, then? I understand the weather is generally considered safe.”

The dog did not appear enthusiastic about the topic, but she did not protest either.

Tamsin hadn’t ever had a pet of her own and this dog belonged to her husband. But Athena made it easy to be fond of her. Despite her size she was gentle, careful with herself and mannerly. The intelligence and warmth in her big eyes immediately made one feel Athena would look after them.

“You are excellent company, Athena. I think we are going to get on very well.”

A step in the hall made her turn to the door.

“No, my lord. She didn’t ring at all,” a voice said. It sounded like the housekeeper.

Roman answered, voice growing louder as footfalls approached the door. “She will be here somewhere. A baroness does not simply disappear.”

The door opened and she hastily rose to her feet to curtsy. “Hartwell—my lord. I am here.”

“Ah. Yes, you are.” He turned to say over his shoulder, “I found her, Mrs. Briers.” He glanced back at Tamsin. “Do you wish for breakfast? Either here or in the dining room?”

“Oh, there is no need to go to any effort—” Her protest died when his brow furrowed.

“Tamsin. You hardly ate yesterday. You need breakfast, and our staff are here to make certain all your needs are seen to. It is not ‘effort,’ It is expected.” His expression remained calm other than the crease above his eyebrows. “A tray in here, then? Some tea?”

The man was quite determined.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He turned over his shoulder again. “Bring a breakfast tray for the baroness here, Mrs. Briers. Thank you.” He stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him.

A little shock went through her. Never had she been in a room alone with a man who was unrelated to her, door closed, until…well. Last evening. Being married would take a lot of getting used to, and a lifetime of training had to adjust to the circumstances.

Roman crossed the room to stand before her. “Are you well? Has someone upset you? Mrs. Briers came to find me after your maid came to wait on you but you were gone, the bed made. Why did you make the bed, Tamsin?”

His use of the familiar name brought her back to herself at last, and a laugh escaped on a breath of air. “I am not supposed to tidy my own bed anymore? I supposed that would look rather strange in this household. I am used to managing little things on my own, my lord.”