Page 20 of Raked Away in September

“I suppose so,” Rose said miserably. Tamsin knew how bad her friend felt about the whole matter, but there was nothing to be done about it now, and she didn’t want Rose to feel bad about it forever. She only hoped Rose would stay away from Lord Cedric. If she were forced to marry him, Tamsin was certain he wouldn’t be nearly as kind as Rowan had been.

“I hope that the Belle is as wrong about your earl as she was about mine,” Lilliana told her, breaking the tension. “I’d been in love with my husband since I was a child, you know, but I never had any hope of actually becoming his wife until the Belle’s article came out. His father was furious and told him he must marry or be disinherited.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Rose exclaimed, putting her fingers to her lips, her eyes lighting up at the thought of being privy to the details behind Lilliana’s story.

“Hadrian initially proposed a marriage of convenience,” Lilliana continued. “I was devastated at first, but it would allow me to retire to his lovely country estate and garden and read to my heart’s content. That seemed far preferable to remaining on the marriage mart and spending endless nights as a wallflower at boring balls.”

“So, what happened?” Rose prompted.

Lilliana laughed. “His father realized what he was up to and told him he must remain in the country with me until we produced an heir. And… once we were trapped together, he actually started to see me as more than just a friend.”

“How romantic,” Rose sighed.

Lilliana blushed. “Sometimes I still can’t believe that he’s mine. And we had our first child, Violet, this summer.”

Tamsin laughed softly, glad that Lilliana had told her their story. It gave her even more hope that she and Rowan might have a happy, productive marriage. Even if he never fell in love with her, or she with him, there was hope they could have children and get along. In her position, she couldn’t really hope for much more.

“Well, so far, Rowan has been wonderful, and I hope that we will end up being as happy as you seem to be with your Mr. September.”

“I hope that for you as well,” Lilliana assured her.

Their conversation moved on to safer topics, and Tamsin relaxed, glad for this little bit of normalcy after so much chaos over the last week. By the time the women left, she had started to believe that perhaps Lilliana was right, and everything would work out for the best after all.

Chapter Eleven

That evening, Rowan decided to break with the rigid formality of the dining room. Tamsin had been absolutely right last night when she’d said that she didn’t want to sit yards away from him with footmen staring over their shoulders the entire time. She’d said her own parents had dined far less formally when they didn’t have guests, and he thought that was something to aspire to.

Before he’d wed, he’d rarely eaten his dinner at home. He’d preferred to go to his club, or a gaming hell, or some other party or entertainment for much the same reason. He’d never liked sitting alone at that long, lonely table.

So, when he collected his bride from her bedchamber, he led her to the library instead.

She raised an eyebrow when he opened the door, but her pure, unadulterated delight when she saw the intimate arrangement—two chairs and a small round table set close together, lit by the warm, golden glow of candles—warmed him in all sorts of unexpected ways. He found that making her happy was his new favorite thing.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes shining as she moved toward the table.

Rowan stepped forward to pull out her chair, his hand lingering on her silk-clad shoulder as she sat. “The dining room is a drafty, miserable mausoleum. We should never eat there when it’s just the two of us. I’ll have a smaller room turned into a more intimate dining area for us, but until then, we’ll eat here, if that’s acceptable.”

“It’s perfect,” she assured him.

He sat beside her, so close that their knees brushed under the linen tablecloth. The dinner was cold—sliced meats, cheeses, fruits, and a robust claret—but as they ate and talked, Rowan realized that he hadn’t enjoyed a meal so much in longer than he could remember. He’d grown so used to being watched while he ate that the lack of observers made him feel a strange sort of freedom. What a ridiculous custom. Was it really necessary for his every whim to be seen to before he’d even thought of it?

“There are still so many things we need to discuss,” Tamsin said, her tone turning thoughtful as she plated a few slices of apple. She cleared her throat, and he could tell she was trying to work up the courage to ask him something.

“There certainly are. Is there one thing that you’d like to talk about in particular?” he prompted.

She nodded gratefully. “I think we should talk about our views on children. How soon do you want to have them? How many would you like? What are your views on how to raise them?”

Rowan paused, a piece of bread halfway to his lips. Her rapid-fire questions startled him. To be honest, he’d never really given anything to do with children any real thought. He’d known that eventually he’d have to have an heir, of course. But the thought had been very abstract.

“I suppose we should begin fairly soon,” he said slowly, lifting his gaze to hers, his pulse thundering in his ears. “And as for the number, two at least. My father wanted a spare heir, but my mother had said she’d bear only two of us, and she didn’t care that Julia was a girl. My sister was the only thing that made my childhood bearable. I would like my own children to have siblings as well.”

He sat back, feeling a bit overwhelmed. This was all happening so quickly. He felt ill-prepared for all of it, though he wasn’t quite certain if he’d ever feel ready to be a father.

She smiled again, obviously glad that he was taking her questions seriously. “Can you tell me a little about how you were raised?”

“My childhood was spent mostly in the nursery wing.” Rowan had always thought that the raising of his own children would be a job for his wife and the nanny. But he sensed that Tamsin’s parents had been far more present in her life, and the concept appealed to him. He certainly didn’t want his children to know the loneliness and isolation that he had. He suddenly realized that he had the power to change things for his own family.

“I saw my father for ten minutes before dinner, provided I was clean and silent. My mother viewed my existence as a duty successfully discharged and preferred not to see us at all, if she could help it. I don’t think she gave much thought to my sister and me once we’d been delivered. I don’t want that, Tamsin. I don’t want a son who views me as a stranger he must eventually replace.”