Page 83 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

His wife glowered at her brother, then met Roman’s gaze again with the air of one accused of a crime. “It was injured.”

“Obviously,” Charles said with an exaggerated grin. “Otherwise there would have been no emergency⁠—”

“I did not say there was an emergency!”

That pulled a laugh from Charles. “Not this time, but I believe that was precisely how you described it before.”

Still lavishing Apollo with attention, Henry asked, “How can a bird have an emergency?”

With an upward, defensive tilt, Tamsin replied with a matter-of-fact tone. “It had caught its wing.”

Roman found himself smiling. This woman. How did she keep surprising him?

With an affronted huff, Tamsin folded her arms again. “You needn’t look so pleased—it is about a time long-since passed.”

Clearing his throat, he adjusted his expression to one more appropriate to the House of Lords than the story unfolding in his home about his wife’s childhood adventure. “I beg your pardon, my lady. I am pleased because I am discovering useful information.”

“There is nothing useful about this.”

Oh, she had no idea how much he delighted in this new picture of her: imagining a girlish Tamsin, climbing out a window, to tend to a creature in distress. It was a precious image. One that gave him an absurd sensation of delight. “That remains to be seen.”

Charles laughed. “You know, I like him.”

Redirecting her glare to her brother, Tamsin refused to share in his merriment. “I am very pleased for you both, that you find this all so amusing.”

Henry settled onto the footstool in front of his brother’s chair. “Tell us what happened next.” The story was entirely new to the boy, it seemed, riveted by his sister’s every word.

“I would rather not.” She sighed and gave Charles a look of warning. “But it is likely for the best you hear the entirety of the story. Accurately.”

Apparently, her brother decided to ignore the pointed glare. “She fell.”

“I did not fall.”

Was this another definition discrepancy?

“You nearly fell.” Charles smirked, and Roman relaxed.

His wife fidgeted in her chair. “I slipped.”

Roman’s amusement disappeared as his stomach plummeted.

Tamsin noticed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. It was seventeen years ago.”

He leaned forward, gaze fixed on his wife, and asked carefully, “You climbed out of an upper-story window and slipped?”

“There was the ledge.” Tamsin’s protestation was gentle.

“That does not answer the question.”

She did not meet his eye. “It was a very broad ledge.”

Charles made a doubtful sound.

Tamsin pointed at him. “You were not even there when I climbed out.”

The man snorted. “I was there when they brought the ladder.”

Roman turned to Charles. “There was a ladder?”