Page 81 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

Henry was standing beside Tamsin’s chair with one hand buried in the fur at Apollo’s neck. The dog sat at his side with the solemn dignity of a creature who had apparently appointed himself guardian to yet another member of the Mayweather family. Athena remained nearer Tamsin, stretched across the rug before her chair.

Looking entirely comfortable in another chair, Charles Mayweather sat with one ankle resting over his opposite knee, a cup of tea balanced upon the arm rather precariously, and his wife was…smiling.

Not at Roman, of course. She had not yet noticed him.

Charles was in the middle of saying something which had brought color into her cheeks and laughter into her eyes, while Henry interrupted him with exclamations.

“No, Tamsin would never do that! Would you, Tamsin?”

Remaining in the doorway, Roman studied the scene before him. Something about the picture unsettled him.

No. That wasn’t quite right. He was not unsettled. He was surprised, and perhaps uncertain how to enter the pleasant atmosphere, or even if he ought to. He had no doubt his sudden appearance would change the climate in the room.

Hartwell House had been his mother’s preferred home for years. His, too, when he was in Yorkshire instead of London. Lyness came and went with enough frequency that the household had scarcely learned to consider him a visitor, despite his approaching marriage and upcoming independent household. There had always been family within their walls.

But this was Tamsin’s family. Her brother was sprawled in a chair with the attitude of a man who had sat there a hundred times. Henry was trailing a happy Apollo about the room. Tamsin had evidently ordered tea, and a plate on the table held the remains of whatever Cook had sent up with it. They did not look like mere guests.

“Roman.” The sound of his own name startled him. Tamsin had finally seen him. Her smile changed, growing smaller, but it did not disappear entirely. Everyone in the room stood, including the dogs. “You are home.”

As she did not sound disappointed, he allowed himself to feel a touch of relief. “So I am.” A ridiculous answer. He quickly remembered his manners and bowed. “My lady.”

Charles bowed, still wearing his grin. “Hartwell.”

“Mayweather.”

After making his own quick bow, Henry abandoned Apollo’s side. “Lord Hartwell, did you know Apollo knows how to find things?”

Roman glanced at his dog. “He knows how to find food with remarkable efficiency.”

Henry disregarded that with a quick shake of his head. “No, things people hide.”

“Does he?” That made his lips twitch as he looked up at Tamsin to see what she made of the game. Her eyebrows raised but otherwise she gave little away.

“I hid his ball three times.” Henry pointed excitedly. “Behind the curtains.”

Roman looked toward the curtains. “Three times?”

Henry nodded enthusiastically.

“And did you hide it in the same place each time?”

The boy hesitated. “Yes.”

Roman forced himself not to smile. “I begin to suspect Apollo had an advantage.”

Charles laughed.

Henry frowned. “He still found it.”

“Indeed.” Roman tucked his hands behind him and spoke with more sobriety. “My groom tells me the best way to train an animal is repetition. It seems you instinctively did exactly the right thing.”

The little boy beamed.

Roman stepped deeper into the room. Apollo’s tail wagged in greeting, and after receiving a brief scratch behind the ears, the large dog returned immediately to Henry.

Traitor. First Athena to Tamsin and now Apollo to Henry. The Mayweathers were bewitching his hounds.

Tamsin’s lips twitched, and when Roman caught it something inside him eased.