Page 47 of The Lost Lord
“No. We have chosen Wapping as our destination on account of the established warehouses there,” Richard replied.
From Canary Warf to Marylebone was easily an hour’s drive. London was dirtier, damper, and darker than New York. Narrow city streets sprawled in every direction, the ramshackle buildings uniform in their ugly, squat height. Things began to improve as they moved away from the dockyards. The coach swayed over rough cobblestone and gave her a sour stomach. Streets widened. Pedestrians thinned. With a few more turns the city became almost beautiful as its terrain shifted to neighborhoods with tidy limestone façade row houses.
This might have been her home. It still could be. All it would cost her was her pride—and every cent of the money she had earned despite Mr. Featherstone’s attempt at guidance.
Richard had nothing but gratitude for her ability with numbers, Miriam mused, with grudging respect for the man she had married. Miriam sighed a little gust of frustration. She was the one who had made it possible to return with his head high. If he had not succeeded in landing an heiress, he would still be lolling about with Lizzie in New York.
Wouldn’t he?
“There’s the new St Marylebone Parish Church. It was only finished a few years ago, in 1817.” Richard craned his neck to peer out the window. “Not long before I left. I should like to see the interior again. You might consider joining me for an excursion, if your schedule permits.”
An invitation, not a command. Mrs. Kent made a noncommittal sound. Miriam brushed back the curtain to peer out at the graceful white spire. “It’s pretty.”
Miriam let the curtain fall. After a few more turns Miriam felt the carriage slow.
“I am surprised they took lodgings here after the fire,” Richard commented.
“Why?” she asked.
“You haven’t met my brother. He is even more disinclined toward city life than Livingston Walsh. You wondered why I hardly reacted when your father came stomping out in a lumberjack’s suspenders and shirtsleeves. I doubt it is possible to surprise me anymore after the way my brother returned to London.”
They shared an awkward chuckle. Their gazes slid past one another as if crossing them might immolate the vehicle. Mrs. Kent peered eagerly out the window. Their collective fatigue at being cooped up in small spaces temporarily overrode the discomfort of being trapped in the coach.
“How so?” asked Miriam with great reluctance. She knew so little about this man to whom she’d promised her life. To her surprise, Richard was eager to discuss his brother.
“The first time I saw my brother after fifteen years, he was locked in a cage. He was naked but for a pair of buckskin breeches which were shredded to the mid-thigh and held up with a rotted piece of sailor’s rope,” Richard almost chuckled at the memory, but seemed to catch himself.
“Dear lord,” gasped Mrs. Kent. “Who would treat another human being that way?
“Many people, madam.” Richard’s gaze was hooded. “The sailors on the ship did not regard my brother as truly human, you see. He had transformed into something else. Someone so foreign that he had relinquished all claim to humanity.”
A shadow fell over his face.
“I imagine he could only improve with time and guidance,” Miriam offered gently.
Richard laughed humorlessly. “I suppose he has improved. I wouldn’t know. He sent me away after...” He broke off and refused to meet her gaze. “After the fire.” Richard sat back in his seat, clearly uneasy. Miriam had to fight the impulse to reach over and touch his hand. She had imagined comforting him as Richard reunited with his estranged family. Instead, they were arriving as enemies.
Miriam squelched her sadness. A mean little part of her whispered,let him squirm. If Richard had behaved as selfishly with them the way he had been toward her, he deserved to feel every bit of his reckoning.
Her musings left Miriam no time to decide her own reaction to the Earl of Briarcliff and his wife should be. Before she had a chance to consider what she should do or say, the coach halted.
“We’re here,” Richard said with humor he transparently did not feel. It was written into the slope of his shoulders and the tense line of his jaw.
I don’t want to fight you,Miriam thought. He had been a stranger in her land. Now, the tables were turned, and she was a stranger in his. At Mrs. Kent’s urging she was in motion, scrambling toward the door of the carriage. The footman handed her down to solid earth. It was all Miriam could do not to weep.
September
Chapter 20
Richard let the footman hand down his wife, and Mrs. Kent behind her. The familiar face of his father’s butler opened the front doorway to the new Briarcliff townhome with a ceremonious bow. A small army of servants appeared to remove their trunks and boxes from the coach. Any fears Richard had harbored about his brother’s unconventional approach to the earldom instantly dissolved. Given his elder brother’s wild behavior Richard had half-expected the door to be answered by a troupe of monkeys.
“You must excuse Lord Briarcliff’s absence. We did not know the precise timing of your arrival. Lady Briarcliff shall receive you in the courtyard.” He glanced sideways at her and covered her gloved hand with his. “This way.” The butler led them through an airy foyer and down a spacious hallway with marble floors. They passed through a sitting room with large French doors opening out to a welcoming patio. Beyond the patio was a large grassy yard. Strange growling sounds emanated from this patch of grass surrounded by hedgerows for privacy.
“What on earth?” Miriam murmured.
“I did warn you that my brother is ... eccentric.”
“Yes. You did. This is so like my house in New York I can scarcely believe it.”
