Page 75 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

The boy held out his hand, then said, “Come here, Apollo. There’s a good dog.” Apollo bowed his head and crouched, well aware of his intimidating size, and crept forward to sniff at Henry’s hand, tail wagging softly. He snuffled loudly, making a great production of it, before looking up at Henry with his big brown eyes.

The little boy’s shoulders loosened. “He does remember me.”

Apollo promptly pushed his enormous head beneath Henry’s hand. Henry startled, then grinned and scratched between the dog’s tall ears. Apollo leaned into him with enough enthusiasm that Henry stumbled sideways.

Charles caught him by the shoulder. “Careful! I believe the beast has decided to lay claim to you.”

Henry laughed, whatever remaining apprehension disappearing. He put both hands on Apollo’s head, rubbing his ears vigorously enough that the dog’s tail began striking the furniture behind him. “He likes that.”

“Most creatures like being adored,” Charles said with a grin, dropping into a chair across the rug without an ounce of decorum, much like he did at their family home.

Tamsin gave him a pointed look.

“What?” He sank deeper into the chair, legs stretched out before him.

“Nothing.” She smirked. It was her turn to keep her thoughts to herself and see how he liked it.

The man didn’t seem the least perturbed and grinned without any hesitation. “I see marriage has made you judgmental as well as suspicious.”

“No more than I was judgmental before.” And she would venture to argue, very little. She much preferred to leave judgment to others and focus instead of what needed doing.

“That is true.” He sighed and sat up straighter, putting an elbow on the arm of the chair and his chin in his hand. “You are likely far too spare in your criticisms of the people around you, Tamsin.”

Now that was unexpected.

Apollo abandoned Henry abruptly and trotted toward the basket of canine toys kept in the corner of the room. He returned with his cricket ball clamped between his teeth and dropped it at Henry’s feet.

The child looked delighted. “He wants to play?”

“It appears that way,” Charles said with a grin. “Good thing you are first rate on the cricket pitch.”

Henry snatched up the ball and prepared a toss, but Tamsin quickly added, “Out in the garden, Henry—and mind you do not throw it toward windows.”

Her brother stepped to the still-open door and threw the ball gently. It hit the ground quickly and rolled, making it only a few feet. Apollo pursued it with undiminished enthusiasm.

Charles watched with raised eyebrows. “Not particular about the quality of the game, is he?”

She couldn’t help but grin. “Fortunately for Henry. And the windows.”

“I heard that!” Henry called.

“You were meant to.” Tamsin smiled as Henry bent to pick up the ball, deposited with a fair amount of the dog’s drool upon it. He bowled it out again, farther this time, and Apollo happily chased after it.

Tamsin lowered her voice as she looked at Charles. “Did Father send you?”

“No.” Charles kept his chin in his hand, staring at her without any semblance of urgency in his tone or expression.

“Mother?”

“No.” This time he frowned, though it was slight.

Her curiosity grew. “Then why are you the one who brought Henry?”

“I was at Sycamore Lodge.” He kept his gaze steady. “I heard about the discussion around Henry going away to school.”

That made her drop her hands into her lap. “From Father?”

Slowly, Charles shook his head. “From Henry.”