Page 51 of The Lost Lord
She exhaled a shuddering sigh.
“Miri, I forgive you. We had a rocky start. I wish to begin again. Let me court you, properly, the way you deserve.” He stroked her hair gently, soothingly.
“For as long as it takes theThetisto arrive and dispose of the cargo at a profit,” Miriam replied into Richard’s shirt. She pulled back. “And then, Richard, I wish to return home. My father and Mrs. Kent were right. I find I am not well-suited to adventures after all.”
Richard released her with reluctance. “Then we must make this one count. Do you have any requests?”
“Mrs. Kent and I would like to visit a castle.”
Richard chuckled. Miriam wished she didn’t enjoy the sound so much.
“Easily done,” he replied. “We are practically tripping over them here in England. I have requested a bath. Would you like one as well?”
“Yes, please.” An image of Richard naked and damp from a hip bath flashed through her mind. For the next few weeks, Miriam would have to resist using him for one of the adventures she still wanted—losing her innocence. Whatever happened here, she was determined not to return to America a maiden. Yet asking for the experience she wanted meant keeping Richard in her life permanently. What a terrible mess.
Richard kissed her on the forehead and whispered, “I shall see to it.” Then he took her palm and pressed something cold and hard into its center. “This is the key to our adjoining door. I leave it in your keeping. If you wish to use it, the choice is yours.”
Miriam gazed in wonder and horror at the piece of metal. Her temptation made real.
With a soft click, Richard left her alone.
Chapter 22
Richard had been too tense and tired to notice much about his room before he’d gone to sleep yesterday. In the morning he blinked at the sight of dark inlaid-wood furniture in a room dominated by red drapes as though the past two years had been an unending nightmare. They were pulled back from the window to let light filter in through sheer lace linings.
This was home. Expensive. Quiet. Well-mannered servants to attend his every need.
“Does the room meet your requirements, sir?” asked Gregory, Edward’s valet. He carefully deposited Richard’s bags in the corner.
“It is most satisfactory, Gregory.” Richard gazed longingly at the bed with its crimson curtains. He’d spent the past two weeks in misery, staring out his porthole at an unforgiving sea in order to give Miriam as much space as possible on the cramped ship. Sleep had come in fits and starts. Fatigue kept his eyelids at half-mast.
“Your trunks will come up momentarily,” Gregory said. There wasn’t much for the man to unpack. Richard had given away all but the few outfits he deemed suitable for London, and most of them desperately needed a freshening. Gregory’s nose wrinkled upon opening his newly-arrived trunks. While he busied himself, Richard investigated the contents of the mirror-fronted wardrobe. Inside were his old clothes, from before his departure to America. He traced the fine wool and inhaled a trace of tobacco and the French soap he had favored when he could still afford such luxuries.
“There’s no rush to clean those,” Richard replied as he slipped into the warm water with a contented sigh. “My brother has thoughtfully kept my old clothing for me.” With a few adjustments they would clothe him in better fashion than the meagre items he’d brought from home.
America. Not home.Thiswas home. Richard shaved off a week’s worth of stubble with quick, sharp motions. Gregory offered him a towel.
“You are much like the earl,” Gregory observed as Richard dried his face. Richard thought this an impertinent comment, not that he expected better manners from servants hired by his notoriously informal brother. Edward was very much like their father. No one had ever called him similar to his father or brother in any way. He was curious enough to ask, “In what way?”
“Independent. Shaving yourself, when I am here to assist you.”
He hadn’t even thought about it. “I have selected clothing for your review.”
Richard arched his eyebrow and toweled his hair dry. “I suppose I have become more so.”
“In my last position, I was obliged to vigorously rub my master’s buttocks. It was most uncomfortable. I appreciate not having to do so with you.”
“You speak your mind freely, Gregory.”
“I suppose I am accustomed to it. The earl and his countess are highly tolerant, even encouraging.”
I bet they are, Richard thought darkly. But all he said was, “The green brocade waistcoat is a better match for the jacket.”
Gregory pulled a face. “That particular shade is several seasons out of date. I recommend the gray.”
“I want the green.” Richard had a fiancé to win back. Miriam deserved the dashing aristocrat he’d once been. He needed to show her who and what he was. That he loved her enough to be his best self.
“As you wish.” Gregory bent to assist him with his trousers, but Richard waved him away.
