Page 42 of The Lost Lord
“I knew it,” muttered Mrs. Kent, her eyes blazing. Miriam sent her a quelling glare. Her world narrowed to a pinhole. Her father would lock her away in the countryside forever once he discovered how badly Miriam had missed her flying leap toward freedom. Livingston could take over her investment accounts with a single quill stroke—and he probably would. She had taken her shot at a living life and found humiliation instead.
Richard turned to Lizzie and said, “I will give you five hundred dollars in cash if you promise to disappear the instant this ship lands. I will give you the name of my family’s solicitor, who will arrange for a trust naming the baby as the beneficiary until the age of majority, if you promise never to cross my path again.”
Lizzie’s strawberry lips parted to respond.
“I have a better plan,” interjected Miriam, her heart pounding. “I shall settle sufficient funds upon you both in exchange for full legal custody of the infant.” She had the momentary satisfaction of watching them both turn to her in shock. Richard’s scowl deepened.
Lizzie’s shook her head. “This is my child. I won’t give him up.”
“Why?” Miriam demanded with a harsh laugh. “I cannot see you, of all people, tending to a shrieking, demanding baby.”
Lizzie scoffed and tossed her head in reply. “I’ll dose the creature with laudanum so it sleeps or hire a nurse.”
Miriam raised one eyebrow. Beside her, Mrs. Kent gasped in horror. Richard blanched.
“Of course, I’ll take care of it,” Lizzie muttered, mulish.
Miriam scoffed. “The same way you care for everyone else in your life? For me? For Arthur?”
Miriam turned her back and picked her way back to her cabin across the foredeck. The crack of canvas and rope overhead blasted her eardrums like whips and dynamite.
“Miriam!” Richard hastened after her. “Please don’t leave me. Lizzie’s motivations were not mine. Don’t confuse us. I promised that I would support the child, and I will. That has nothing—nothing—to do with us. On my honor.”
“Oh, such honor.” Miriam snapped. She paused and let him catch up with her but didn’t turn to face the husband who’d betrayed her so deeply she could hardly breathe. Richard came alongside and peered at her, agony writ into his features. Miriam touched his face. “Richard, I can’t believe anything you say ever again. There is no us. Not anymore.”
“Give me a chance to tell my side of things, Miri.” The ferocious hurt in Richard’s voice pained Miriam’s heart.
“I have heard everything I need to know, Richard.” Embarrassingly, a tear trickled down her cheek. Miriam swiped it angrily away.
Mrs. Kent was at her elbow. “That’s enough now. Miss Walsh needs to rest.”
“Miriam. I know this isn’t what you expected of our marriage,” Richard said, following them. “I trust you understand now why I left you a way out.”
Of all the things to bring up now. Miriam stopped so fast that Richard nearly bumped into her. “Lord Northcote. You have done enough damage. I thank you for sparing me the pain of looking at you over the breakfast table for the rest of my existence. If you will excuse me.”
This time, he did not trail them. Miriam and Mrs. Kent made their way to their tiny shared cabin. The walls closed in around her like a coffin. She could not leave the safety of this room for the next two weeks without risking an encounter with either Richard or Lizzie. The thought of seeing either of made her sick with fury.
Once her father heard about Lizzie’s betrayal, Livingston Walsh would never countenance her having another friend. No adventures. No family.
No love.
“How could I have been such afool?” Miriam hissed through her tight throat.
“Miriam, you mustn’t say that about yourself. You are no less intelligent because of what two schemers did. I was as taken in by Lord Northcote as you were. I believed him enamored of you. I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but I still believe that to be true.” Mrs. Kent shuffled into Miriam’s vision.
“How can you say that about a man who only ever wanted me for my fortune?” Miriam flopped back onto the bed with a wheeze. If she suffered an attack this time, Miriam had will to fight it.
“Just breathe. Inhale slowly. Exhale slowly.”
The harsh sound of Miriam’s breath went on for a long time in the dark, cramped, wave-tossed room. The draught of medicine Miss Kent gave her tasted like punishment. Miriam gagged, but the laudanum in the concoction ushered Miriam into a haze of almost-sleep. She shuddered in the darkness.
Richard had warned her that he was a bad man. She hadn’t believed him.
Now she knew the truth. The Dishonorable Richard Northcote was her husband, and he had no heart for her to win.
Chapter 18
The woman was certifiable.
