Page 55 of The Lost Lord
“We were?” Miriam asked her deceitful spouse. A moment ago, she had been yearning for her husband’s touch. But then he’d gone and ruined it with an outright fabrication. She’d asked for an adventure, not a mendacious man to make it happen.
“We started to,” Richard replied. “Before I assisted you with your lock.
To Miriam’s shock, he was correct. She’d been thrown so off-kilter by his appearance that she’d nearly forgotten his original purpose in stopping her.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible.” Mrs. Kent urged Miriam toward the stairs as if she were a naughty child to be punished. “We’ve planned a trip to Windsor Castle.”
Mrs. Kent sped up. Miriam hoped she wouldn’t trip and fall down the unfamiliar stairs. Did she think she could outrun Richard in his own brother’s home? Then she remembered that this house was as unfamiliar to Richard as it was to her. The original had burned down.
“Windsor shall have to wait,” Richard said. Mrs. Kent stopped short, clearly upset at being ordered to change her plans.
“Can’t you go alone?” Miriam whirled to face him. A growing part of her wanted to explore this new and cacophonous world, but she needed Mrs. Kent with her to keep her safe from an asthma attack.
“I need you,” Richard said simply, his gaze never wavering from her face. Miriam’s cheeks heated.
“Fine words,” she snapped.
“I need your expertise, Miri. No one is going to purchase wares from a spoiled aristocrat with no experience in trade.”
Miriam was silent. Hedidneed her. It had been his promise to her father that she would oversee the operations on the English side. How annoying that this was the one promise Richard apparently intended to keep.
“It’s true, Mrs. Kent. We cannot abandon Richard to muddle through the specifics of business on his own.” Miriam swallowed. Yet, she’d been given this opportunity to Howard and Livingston to see how far she could stretch her wings. It wasn’t right to quit now. Besides, going home now meant telling her father that he’d been right about Richard all along. He was nothing but a selfish, spoiled aristocrat who would break her heart without a moment’s regret.
Yet when she looked at Richard, all she found regret in his eyes. It was in the resigned set of his shoulders. She heard it in the stiff way he’d spoken with her, as if he was fearful to say the wrong thing and wounding her anew.
“How long do you propose to remain here?” asked Mrs. Kent, assessing the new landscape with pinched displeasure.
“For as long as it takes. At least until the first shipment comes in and we can sell the commodities for a profit.”
“And then we go home?” asked her companion through pursed lips.
“Yes. Absolutely.” Miriam risked a glance at Richard. He stood very still, like a shadow. She couldn’t afford to let her heart soften toward him, no matter how badly it wanted to. This man had taken her trust and smashed it like a china plate on a stone floor. The stab of pain she experienced upon reliving the matter brought Miriam back to her senses.
Mrs. Kent sighed.
“We shall stay long enough to establish the business. That’s all,” Miriam promised reassuringly. What if there was a way to retain her hard-won freedom without losing her dignity?
“Thank you.” Richard’s simple words conveyed an ocean of relief.
“You are not to attempt to charm your way back into Miriam’s good graces,” Mrs. Kent ordered. “I overheard that ridiculous vow you made to Miriam. We know what you’re after, now. Money is all you care about. We shall help you obtain it honestly, then set sail for home.”
“If that is what you wish, I will not stop you.” Richard bowed, a courtly bend at the waist. Here, it was neither ridiculous nor excessive. It made her feel as if the weight and import of Richard’s family and country’s history watched her with judgmental gazes. What must it have been like to grow up under the crushing sternness of all this ancestry?
Miriam started into motion. Richard’s palm landed on the small of her back, jolting her with a surge of heat from his touch.
“I mean it, Miriam. If you want to go, I will not stop you. But think how you might like to be a Viscountess. If my brother can sway the King, I am to be offered a title.” He half-grinned, a little bashfully.
“Congratulations. I don’t know what a Viscountess is,” Miriam replied bluntly. His face fell. A second later it hardened into a mask of disappointment.
She wished she could take it back.
“There you are.” The earl swung into the foyer at the bottom of the stairwell with an easy lope. His strange voice, like a hoarse growl, raised the hairs on Miriam’s arms. “We were about to request your presence for supper. Given your interests in sightseeing, Mrs. Kent, the prospect of a social calendar reviving, and my brother’s newfound business interests, we ought to spend the evening planning the next several weeks. I presume he has told you the good news.”
“Yes, just now,” Miriam replied. The words tasted like ash.
“Thank you, your lordship. Is Richard’s receipt of a Viscountcy a certainty?” Miriam licked her lips. Behind her, Mrs. Kent coughed.
“It is not. Kings are notably fickle, and King George IV more than most. I have a feeling he will enjoy Richard’s company, however, if they have a chance to meet.” Edward clapped his large hands together. “Shall we go in?”
