Page 48 of The Lost Lord
Richard drank in the sight of Miriam’s wonder as they stepped onto the slate flagstones. A woman with dark blonde hair in a voluminous print gown attempted to leverage out of a chair. “Please catch Ben and bring him over,” she asked.
The butler gently placed one arm beneath the struggling woman’s elbow. “Welcome,” she said a bit breathlessly. “Forgive me for not meeting you at the door. It is rather difficult for me to get about these days. I am due within the next few weeks. The doctor believes it will be twins. Myself, I am certain of it. If not triplets.”
Miriam dropped a curtsey before Richard’s disarmingly casual sister-in-law. A feral growling from nearby raised the hairs on the back of Richard’s neck. He frowned, staring out over the lawn. A bush rustled.
“GRRAAR!”
A small boy leapt out of a planter. Miriam gasped. The boy squealed with laughter as a very large and muscular man rose from behind the bush and snatched the boy in midair. Together they fell safely onto the grass, where the man pretended that the boy had bested him.
Beside him, Miriam fought a smile. Her smile faded as the man rose, plucked the boy from his chest and hoisted him to his shoulders without seeming effort.
“Richard. Meet your nephew, Bennett.” The large man’s voice was a low rumble. Miriam’s gray eyes widened at the sight of the thick raised scar around his neck. Seeing it again even shocked Richard. His brother had been dragged back to England with violence. Edward wore no cravat with his loosely buttoned shirt, rumpled waistcoat, and buff trousers with grass-stained knees. “Welcome home, Richard.”
“Thank you. Edward. My wife, Miriam Northcote, nee Walsh.” Richard bent to greet the boy whose arrival into the world had knocked Richard even further out of the line of succession for the Briarcliff earldom. “Good day, Master Bennett,” Richard said, offering the boy his hand. The little boy’s innocent hazel eyes gazed up at him with sudden shyness. He buried his face in his father’s hair.
Would he be cruel, or kind? Surely the child had heard stories of his uncle’s attempts to have his father locked away in an asylum.
“I have brought you a gift. Climb down from your father’s shoulders, and you may open it directly.” Richard held a parcel concealed behind his back.
“Oooh!” The boy wiggled and practically fell over his father’s head in his eagerness to climb down. He grabbed two hanks of the earl’s longish hair. The earl grimaced and set his son down on the flagstones.
“Bennett, dear, what do you say to your uncle?” prompted the countess.
“Thank you, sir.”
Miriam smiled. Bennett looked just like his father, but with his mother’s honey-blonde hair. Perhaps that would darken as he aged. “How old is he?”
“Almost two and a half. He arrived quite soon after our marriage.” The countess did not blush in making the admission. She looked levelly at Miriam, assessing her with warm but guarded hazel eyes. Her eyes were quite striking, beautifully shaped, and heavily fringed with lashes. Richard had placed a small parcel on the patio. Bennett was happily ripping at the ribbon with his uncle’s assistance.
The paper was peeled back to reveal a brightly painted wooden horse, exquisitely crafted with joints to move its legs. Delighted, Bennett grabbed his father’s knee and pretended to gallop.
“Thank you, Richard. It is a delightful pony. Miss Walsh, won’t you have a seat?”
Richard glanced sidelong at Miriam. She offered no words to contradict him. Try as she might, shyness glued her lips together.
“I would return your gesture if I were able,” the countess laughed. “Come, you must be famished. There is a light luncheon awaiting us in the dining room.” The earl took his very pregnant wife’s arm and carefully helped her up the short step into the house. The tenderness with which he handled his wife brought an unexpected lump to Richard’s throat. She glanced at Richard with a hint of sadness at the corners of her mouth and in her eyes. It seared him with the heat of regret.
“It feels false to pretend that we are married,” she said.
“I shall follow your lead if you wish to tell them the truth. Tell them everything. I guarantee my sister-in-law won’t be the least bit shocked,” Richard said with bitterness.
“Oh, I intend to. I’m waiting for the right moment,” Miriam snapped. “They have had weeks to anticipate a wedding. I hate to crush their hopes, yet it must be done.”
A familiar wheeze squeezed her chest.
“Are you having an attack? London’s air is notoriously foul. We can remove to the countryside.”
“I am fine. Or will be in a few minutes.”
Richard hesitated. “I care about you. Give me a chance to prove that, Miriam.”
She laughed. The sound cut him deeply.
“Admit it. You never wanted me for myself either.” Richard’s ire rose in a barely checked tidal wave of emotion that threatened to swamp his tenuous equilibrium. All he wanted was to settle down with this woman who had stolen his heart. Set them up comfortably as a gentleman shopkeeper. The days of his dreams for a title and status were gone. Fifteen minutes in Edward’s presence had proved that to him.
“Excuse me?” Miriam turned on him with a scowl.
“You were exactly like Lizzie. You only wanted what I could give you.” They would have their argument now, before it could blow up in front of his family.
