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He grinned. “Truly. Well, at first, I just wanted to be a pirate.”

Miss Claremont laughed musically. “You didn’t!”

“I did. In my defense, I was only eight. But then I got fascinated with the sea and sea creatures. I spent days and nights devouring encyclopedias… I wanted to be a scientist.”

She smiled at him. “Then what happened?”

Richard stiffened. “It wasn’t meant to be. I was meant to become a viscount.”

Miss Claremont frowned. “Couldn’t you be both?”

Richard shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t have enough time to devote to my studies once I started taking over running the estates. And it turned out to be for the best. My father was ill for a few years before his death, and had I not been prepared, had I roamed the seas as I dreamed, there would be no one competent to continue his work.”

She didn’t say anything. She stared at him with her dark, chocolate gaze for a moment before turning back toward the sky. They sat silent for a while, watching the beautiful and rare clear sky. A light breeze blew from the side, bringing with it Miss Claremont’s wonderful scent. Rosewater.

He turned and studied her face. Her head was tilted back as she looked up at the sky, her smooth, milky neck bared to his gaze. Her plump lips were pursed in thought.

“Have you ever wanted to be someone you couldn’t?” he asked.

“Hmmm…” she hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose I did. I wanted to be the Queen of England.”

They both erupted in laughter. “But it was more like your pirate fantasy. I was young. My mother was… um… working all the time.”

Richard noted the slight hesitation. “Was she an actress, too?”

Miss Claremont swallowed and nodded. “At first, yes.” She lowered her head and turned toward him. “But I never wanted to be a scientist. I suppose I wanted to be a writer. Creating unknown worlds sounded as romantic to my young mind as being a marine biologist to you… Instead, I started writing plays. So, in a way, I did become who I wanted to be. Even if my plays are only for small audiences such as these.”

“Why not create something for a big stage?”

She smiled sadly. “Because I am a woman.”

Richard blinked. What did that have to do with anything? “You are one of the greatest actresses in London. Your plays are extremely popular among the ton if what my sister says is true. I can’t believe that you can’t persuade the theater manager to perform your play.”

She looked at him queerly. “Your sister is a sister of a viscount, and the wife of a marquess. She hosts the best house parties of the ton if the gossip is to be believed. Can she persuade the lords to change the law?”

He scoffed. “That’s different. Women have no place in politics.”

Her face changed instantly as she raised her brow. “Yes, and women have no place in writing or directing either. At least, not according to men. And although it is not against the law to be a woman playwright, men are still the gatekeepers.”

Richard grimaced. He’d clearly offended her. In all honesty, Richard had never thought of things like that. He had heard many times from other men that women had no place in politics, and it was just ingrained in his mind. He had never seen a woman in politics. He had never heard of one wanting to be in politics.

Well, there was the Duchess of Somerset. And according to her husband, she was the one running the estates and making all major decisions. She wasn’t accorded a seat in Parliament, though. Not because she didn’t want to… Did she want to? Richard realized that he didn’t know, and he’d never bothered to ask. “Apologies. I didn’t mean it like that.”

She started, then smiled. “I didn’t peg you as the type of man to apologize.”

A chuckle left Richard’s lips. “And usually, you would be right. But see, I have sisters. And they are brilliant and strong-willed. And I wager they could run Parliament, perhaps better than most men. I just always assumed they had no interest in the political scene. They never showed any interest.”

“And if they had?”

“If they had shown an interest, I would probably have told them to marry and then enact their will through their husbands.”

Miss Claremont’s face turned sour. “Is it because women cannot speak for themselves?”

“No, because it has never been done. Because it would be scandalous, and they would be forfeiting their chance to marry. Now that they are married, they can bring it up with their husbands.”

Miss Claremont tugged her hand from under his. “It is all about husbands, isn’t it? When I showed my plays to my theater manager, Mr. Hart, he didn’t even glance at them. He said it wasn’t an actress’s role to select our plays. He didn’t even look at them. When I told him that we perform at house functions, he laughed and said that my stories might be amusing for house parties but do not belong on a large stage. But if I were married, and my husband submitted the plays, they would probably be accepted or at least read. But it would also be assumed that he was the main writer and I was just an advisor. Even if my husband was a daft old man who couldn’t string two words together.

“Yet, I, an actress who has performed and written a few dozen plays, am considered incompetent by men who have done neither. And that is why I shall never do it. I shall not marry, and I shall not submit my plays to a manager with some other man getting all the credit. I would rather perform during these little house parties and maintain my voice.” She paused, then lowered her head. “Apologies for my outburst.”