Talk of the Ton (Free Fellows League 5)
Page 97
“You have turned the tables on me, Lord Hatherleigh. We were discussing you, not me.”
“Were we? But I would rather discuss you.”
“I would not. There is much I would know of you.” She was feeling reckless—was it even a wildness?—she had never before experienced. “I wish to return to the subject of why you find being an earl so disagreeable. You say that is why you prefer to be called by your Christian name.”
“All right, I shall tell you. Very simply, I have never found anything of use in it. The one thing I’ve loved above all else in my life is my freedom. To go where I please, to do what I wish. And I am of a miserable bent to see it cut short for the sake of a duty that gives me no pleasure.”
“But you say yourself that your house, your country life, the lands, and the happy existence you have there brings you enjoyment. Surely this is all to do with your being an earl. Would you rather be a shopkeeper?”
His expression told her he was amazed at her boldness.
Why could she not seem to hold her tongue with him? He affected her as no one else did, and she hardly knew herself.
It was thrilling, in a way. Terrifying as well. But still thrilling.
“I have never entertained the possibility. Perhaps I would. A bookshop, for you are fond of books, and therefore you would be a frequent visitor.”
“You are not serious.”
“No. I am feeling a bit sorry for myself. The rights and privileges of my class are not lost on me. But there are also obligations that cost a price that sometimes feels quite steep.”
“You do not wish to be married.”
“Oh, Miss Alt, I most emphatically do not.”
She spoke carefully, giving each word great thought. “Do not think me unmov
ed, my lord—”
She hesitated, seeing his look of displeasure at her address of him, then inclined her head. “Miles, then.”
“Ah, you do me honor. Then we are friends?”
“If you wish.”
“You were saying . . . please go on.”
“I do not wish to appear unsympathetic, but no one’s life is ideal. We are all of us bound by our duty, though those duties be different. Each of us is confined by our station in life in many different ways.”
She thought he was going to shoot back a quick rejoinder, but he paused, peering at her with interest.
“But some of us are better at accepting being confined, Miss Alt,” he replied gently. “I am afraid I find it intolerable.”
“I am sorry,” she said sincerely.
He made a sound, shaking his head. “Oh, Miss Alt, now you show me your kindness. What am I to say to that?”
She blushed, feeling disconcerted.
He leaned forward. “I almost wonder if you yourself do not know something of being trapped. You seem to understand very easily.”
He looked at her intently, as if he were searching.
She could not help but pity him. And, yes, she did know something of finding oneself trapped in a life that felt like a role one played for the benefit of others. And duty. Yes, she understood about that, too.
She drew in a quick breath, resisting the pull of such sympathetic thoughts. She had to watch herself. She was vulnerable to him.
“Tell me,” he continued in that same persuasive tone. “If you could have the life you dream, what would it be?”