Page 20
“No, I am not. You are barely twenty—”
“I am two and twenty,” she corrected with a frown.
“And yet you have your little list, you know what you want, and you know who you are going to marry.”
“You don’t mean to make it sound as if I have it better of the two of us. I am marrying Lansdowne!”
One side of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “No, of course not. You have it worse. I have time to figure out what I want, while you have only a short time to do what you want. Although, I do think that you’re underestimating the benefits of becoming a countess. You will have your own estates, perhaps a separate house. Yes, you’ll be required to bed an old and wrinkly man”—he grimaced at that—“but once you provide him with heirs, I am certain he will look away from your indiscretions.”
“Are you proposing I take lovers after I birth a child or two?” She was completely appalled at the suggestion. But he sounded so nonchalant as if that was the norm. Was it?
“You will easily slide into the role and make it your own.” He looked down at his ale and proceeded talking to his beverage. “Whatever you want, you shall have. Of that, I am certain. Lansdowne doesn’t stand a chance. He doesn’t realize he picked the wrong bluestocking to marry. Actually, he shouldn’t have picked a bluestocking at all. Better for an old man like him to wed a woman who doesn’t read.”
“He didn’t pick me. I picked him.”
He looked at her then, as if only just noticing that she was sitting in front of him. “Ah, yes, you did, didn’t you? And I can’t even pick a vocation.”
“Maybe I can help you with that,” she said cheerfully. Her desire to roam the pub suddenly forgotten, she was completely engrossed with the man in front of her. She couldn’t believe he was in his cups since he hadn’t drunk that much—not that she was a good judge of how much one needed to partake to display symptoms of inebriation—but his slightly loosened attitude intrigued her. He was finally treating her as though she wasn’t just an annoyance but an actual human he could talk to and confide in.
Just as she thought that, of course, he straightened and shook his head. “How could you help me?”
She pursed her lips. “I am a master of dreaming. Perhaps I can teach you.”
He chuckled. “I’ve seen your dreams, Beatrice, or have you forgotten?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Those aren’t dreams. Those are little goals to accomplish before the end of the month.”
He tilted his head in interest. “And what are your dreams then?”
She licked her lips and leaned in closer. “I have always dreamed of owning a bookshop.”
He raised a brow. “A bookshop?”
“Yes, but not in London. In a remote little village like the one I grew up in.”
He frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a lucrative business idea.”
“It doesn’t have to be. That’s the point of the dream. I want little girls like me and my sisters to have broader access to books. When I was younger, I had to walk for miles to find bookshops and libraries. I had to beg my aunt to send me crates from London only so I could enrich my education. So, yes, that’s my dream. To open a small bookshop in a tiny sleepy village. Or perhaps in more than one location.”
He pursed his lips in thought. “I have to admit, quite an admirable dream to have.”
Her cheeks heated, and she bit her lower lip. “Now you try. What is something you’d like to do that, perhaps, would be an unprofitable venture or something that has little merit?”
He scratched his jaw in thought. “Very well. I wouldn’t say this exact dream lacks merit. But it lacks plausibility. I would have loved to explore the world. Not just travel as young men do on their jaunt about the Continent. I would love to discover new places. See the land beyond what is researched.”
Something stirred within Beatrice. Adam had never spoken with such excitement in his eyes about anything. “Why do you say this dream lacks plausibility?”
“Because, in order to join expeditions such as these, one must possess either necessary scientific knowledge or be useful on the deck of the ship, and I am neither.”
“I bet you can find a way to be useful on a shipping vessel or during the expedition.” Beatrice shrugged, then fire lit from beneath her as an idea struck her. “You can go as a secretary, writing down the notes.”
Adam let out a chuckle, but his gaze grew thoughtful. “Perhaps I can.” He took out his watch, which Beatrice knew by now didn’t tell time, and said, “I think it’s time for us to leave.”
Beatrice let out a disappointed sigh as she looked around. She had just started to feel comfortable in this place. Comfortable with him. She wanted to continue talking to him. “I am not certain I took in the entire experience.”
Adam lifted one side of his mouth in a half-smile. “What is there to experience? This place is filled with drunkards, singing and cursing. Is that what you want to do? To join their tables and sing?”
Beatrice grimaced. “I imagined it… differently.”
