Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The longer Liam stood on Sloane Street, holding the reins of two horses—he’d sent the lad back to Rake and Gemma’s manse on Grosvenor Square—he wondered if he’d done the correct thing in coming to Sirens unannounced and uninvited.
Saskia was a lady who had her life ordered just so and she liked it that way. Surprise visits from men bearing gifts in the form of horse riding lessons had likely never once figured into her day.
But after last night, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. For the obvious reason—he yet ached for her with a ferocity that bordered on desperation—and for another, altogether different reason.
She couldn’t ride.
And that couldn’t stand.
He had a suspicion that if Saskia ever sat a horse, she would immediately take to it. For though he wasn’t sure she was aware, she had a fair bit of daring inside her.
In the clear-eyed light of morning, it had all come together in his mind.
Saskia needed to learn how to ride, and he needed to see her again, blast the duties of the earldom.
They could wait one more day. Besides, after last night, he couldn’t leave her the next day again, like he’d done after the Derby.
It had weighed on him, that, these long weeks since.
He wouldn’t be making the same mistake again.
So, he stood here, with the filly Peony and his gelding Homer with what was surely a ridiculous grin on his face because it appeared his ploy might’ve worked and he would get to spend time with the woman he was hopelessly mad for.
However, after a full ten minutes had passed and still she hadn’t reemerged from Sirens, doubt began to prey upon him.
Had she reconsidered? For every time the front door opened, it was a gent who stepped through and gave Liam a questioning lift of an eyebrow before going on his way and Liam’s heart had to settle down all over again.
Four times, this happened, but with the fifth opening of the door, a miracle occurred and Saskia stepped through, looking smart and lovely in her crimson wool riding habit, the unfussy style and rich color suiting her.
As she descended the steps, slipping black kid gloves onto her hands, a shallow line formed between her eyebrows.
“We’re not having our lesson here on the street, are we? ”
He shook his head. “It’s just a short walk to Rotten Row. We’ll have the lesson there.”
The vertical line didn’t release. “Rotten Row? I don’t fancy entertaining all of society with my first riding lesson.”
He had a ready answer for this. “Do you believe any member of the haut ton is yet out of bed after having danced their feet off at Rake and Gemma’s ball last night?”
There. The vertical line disappeared—almost. “You and I are out of bed.”
“Well, Lady Saskia”—he knew the power of his best charming smile, and he employed it now—“you and I are the special two, aren’t we?”
You and I…the special two.
He hadn’t planned those words, but how he liked them when applied to him and this serious woman who was, increasingly, the only thing he considered worth thinking about.
Her silvery-blue eyes searched his, something in the air between them releasing.
He dug into his pocket and held out a chunk of carrot. “Offer this to Peony on the flat of your palm and watch her become your best friend.”
Saskia did as instructed, a delighted laugh escaping her as Peony’s lips gently took the treat.
“Now,” he instructed, “give her nose a scratch.”
Homer, clearly feeling left out, nosed Liam’s shoulder, demanding his treat, too. Treats properly dispensed, Liam handed Peony’s reins to Saskia and they set off up Sloane Street toward Hyde Park.
“Sirens is the best circulating library I’ve ever set foot in.” He didn’t say the words just to fill the air; he meant them.
She shot him a penetrating glance. “Have you set foot in many circulating libraries?”
“I have. My mam was a devoted reader, in fact. And your library, Lady Saskia, is the best.” Before she could wave the compliment aside, he added, “And you publish books.”
“It isn’t all me.” What might’ve been a pleased smile tickled about her mouth. “Sirens is a partnership with my sister Viveca. We each bring our talents to the enterprise. Once Viveca is on a mission, nothing will stop her. It’s useful to have someone like that in a business.”
Liam chuckled. “Oh, yes, I’ve been one of Lady Viveca’s missions.” He gave a bemused shake of his head. “I’m still not sure that I explicitly agreed to the memoir.”
“Viveca’s rhetorical skills are paralleled by none,” returned Saskia, shaking her head with a laugh. “If she’d been born a man, she would’ve gone down in history as England’s greatest barrister.”
There was yet a point Liam wanted to make. “But Harriet LaPlume, is all you, isn’t she?”
“Aye, she is.”
“So, you operate not just one, but two businesses and you write novels. Every hour of your day must be spoken for before you even rise from bed.”
“Most of them.” She shrugged. “But that’s how I like my life.”
“And on top of all that, you’re a lady.”
“I don’t see how that impacts matters.”
“Only because you haven’t allowed it to.”
She angled her head and met his gaze. “I’m a lady. Not much is expected from me. But you,” she continued, “are an earl. I suppose an earldom comes with a different set of expectations.”
Liam blew out a frustrated breath. Leave it to this woman to strike directly at the heart of the matter.
“Bloody time consuming, it’s been, and I don’t understand why.
Have you seen the betting post at any racecourse in England?
Abundant with not just earls, but dukes, marquesses, viscounts, and barons, too.
Then there are the balls, musicales, country house parties, and daily appearances at one’s club.
Insubstantial obligations that can fill every hour of a man’s day. ”
Saskia nodded in agreement. “You should try endless rounds of afternoon teas and shopping for insubstantial obligations. In their world, there is no care whether one is a good person or an educated person. They place a high value on the ideal of the accomplished person, but what does that truly mean? That a lady can do perfect needlework? Or a lord can haul himself to his club once a day?” She shook her head. “I have to be more than that.”
“Saskia, you are more than that.”
She didn’t hesitate. “And so are you, Liam. That’s why you’re having difficulty reconciling yourself to the role of earl.
You’re a man of industry, so you’re approaching the earldom from that perspective.
Not because society requires as much of you—they don’t give a fig if you squander it all at the betting post or on a toss of the dice—but you require it of yourself. ”
Warmth spread through him. This woman more than liked him; she admired him.
And within her admiration existed a kinship, for he admired her, too.
Further, they shared the improbable luck that this life—the life of an aristocrat—had been thrust upon them both, hadn’t it?
They were different people, to be sure, with different goals and aspirations that were personal to them each, but at a profound level, they shared a core sameness that felt fundamental and important.
“I’ve had a little more time than you to consider this,” she continued, “and I’ve calculated but one substantial, immutable obligation of an aristocrat.”
“Even one?”
“Precisely one.” She cleared her throat for dramatic effect. “To beget more members of the haut ton, so it doesn’t cease to exist.”
“If that’s the case,” he scoffed, “then I fear the haut ton is going to be sorely disappointed with the new Earl of Bolton.”
“I cannot imagine that will be the case.”
“Well, to beget a legitimate heir, one needs a wife. A fact I’ve become all too aware of this last month.”
“Fortunately for you, my lord,” she said on a laugh, “yours is a condition you shouldn’t find too difficult to remedy. I’m not sure there is an unmarried woman in England who would refuse your proposal of marriage.”
He lifted a single eyebrow. “Not a single one?”
A breathless moment ticked past. It was a cheeky question, and he shouldn’t have asked it, but he hadn’t been able to help himself.
She cleared her throat. “So, there is your problem solved.”
“With respect, I beg to differ.” He was under no obligation to speak further on the subject, yet he continued. “It has never been an intention of mine to beget children, heirs or otherwise.”
Was that a gasp he heard? Were his words so shocking?
Silvery-blue eyes wide with surprise flashed up and caught his. “I can’t imagine not having children.”
Now it was him suppressing shock. But he understood he needed to go carefully… “I would’ve thought you’re so busy with your various enterprises that children might not be for you.”
“Oh, they’re definitely for me.” Within her gaze shone certainty, which only underscored her words.
“After Gabriel and Tessa started their families, I knew that was what I wanted.” She gave a little shrug.
“I suppose I’m greedy and want the world with business, writing, and family. I might not succeed, but I shall try.”
If he were being dead honest, Liam didn’t like what he was hearing. Except, it wasn’t his place to like or dislike Saskia’s goals for herself. Her wants and desires were hers, and she was allowed them.
What he didn’t like—again, if he were being honest—was that until this moment, he’d thought his goals and her goals might just align.
And they didn’t.
“But, Liam?” she asked, angling so she could get a clear look at him.
They’d stopped at Piccadilly, waiting for traffic to clear so they could cross with Peony and Homer. Liam gave them each a treat before turning his attention to Saskia. Really, he’d been buying time, for he knew that look. She was about to ask him a question he might not like.
“Yes?”
“Why don’t you want children?”
And there it was—the question she had no right to ask and the question he was under no obligation to answer.