Page 92 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

By the end, Tamsin was frowning. She read it again—and found the second reading left her more frustrated than the first. “Patchett?”

“Almost certainly.”

She looked back at the article and reread one section again.

Those less dazzled by such expansive benevolence might wonder whether the duties already attached to Lord Hartwell’s name provide so little employment—or interest—that he must continually seek new ones.

Roman pushed his chair away from the desk. Athena lifted her head to watch, alert to their movements. “Hargrove is going to print it and wants to know whether I mean to answer it.”

“Do you?” Tamsin knew the answer before he spoke.

“Of course.” He stood and paced away, turning to catch her staring with a frown. Roman raised his brows. “Have you something to say?”

Something twisted in her stomach. “No. Nothing.”

“That expression upon your lovely face is plainly not nothing.”

She felt a touch of pleasure at the compliment, but focused instead on the paper again. “This is the man who tried to drug you, according to Lyness and Lady Emily’s story.”

That made him stiffen. He was still furious someone else had been harmed.

“At the assembly,” she continued, the story coming back to the forefront of her mind, “he wanted you to behave foolishly, where everyone could see it. To discredit you, Lyness said.”

He folded his arms and studied her. “I remember, Tamsin. The repercussions from that evening are still part of our concern for Lyness and Emily’s wedding.”

Which was useful to know. “And when that failed, he tried to make you angry.”

Roman’s gaze shifted to the article as she laid it on the desk.

Tamsin tapped it lightly with one finger. “Is this so different? He does not merely disagree with you.” She read one cutting sentence again. “He enjoys provoking you.”

His gaze was blazing. “I am aware of that.”

“Then why give him what he wants?”

A soft scoff parted her husband’s lips. “You think I should allow this to stand unanswered?”

“I do not know.”

That, apparently, he had not expected. His stance softened.

Tamsin shrugged. “I do not know enough about newspapers or politics to tell you what you ought to do. Perhaps there are things here which must be corrected.”

“There are.”

“But I think he means for you to answer more than those things.”

Roman held out his hand and Tamsin returned the paper. He read several lines again. “He questions whether I have neglected my duties in Parliament. He suggests my interest in Catholic relief is little more than fashionable posturing.” He shook the paper to emphasize his distress. “And apparently I have now descended upon York in search of another grievance to champion.” This time, his tone had Apollo lifting his head too. Both dogs watching him, waiting for a command.

“That appears to be the argument he has made,” she agreed.

Roman’s jaw tightened and she slowly shook her head, the movement gaining a quick frown from him.

“He means to make you angry, Roman.”

“I am angry.”

“Yes. I noticed.”