Page 56 of The Lost Lord
Miriam permitted her husband to take her by the elbow and steer her toward the dining room. His touch sent heat radiating outward. Miriam was acutely aware of his body but a few inches from hers. If only there was a way to retain her hard-won freedom without giving herself over to Richard completely.
Chapter 25
Mrs. Kent lost her bid to see Windsor Castle. The next morning, the trio bundled into the too-warm coach and made their way back down to the wharves seeking news of their ship. Five weeks had passed since theThetishad departed New York. They had planned for a five-to-six-week journey. Considering their own rapid journey, Richard had fully expected to find her bobbing next to the wharf.
Mrs. Kent was not the only one to suffer disappointment that morning.
Richard exchanged a glance with Miriam as they asked after newly arrived ships. Although he tried to keep the women secure, the place was no more suitable to gently raised ladies than the piers in London. They endured as many taunts and catcalls as they could stand before retreating to the safety of the coach. Miriam collapsed against the squabs. A faint, familiar wheeze haunted the edges of her voice when she spoke. “While we are here, oughtn’t we investigate warehouses?
“Can you manage it?” he asked, regarding her with concern.
She nodded. Mrs. Kent busied herself with the kit, while Richard opened the windows to let in fresher air. He gave a list of addresses to the driver.
“Take us to the nearest one.” It was as good as any a place to begin. By the time they arrived a few short minutes later, Miriam’s breathing had mostly returned to normal. He was learning to recognize when an attack was getting out of hand, and how to manage the more common bouts of wheezing and coughing she suffered.
They found the first storehouse packed to the rafters.
“Are you certain this is the right place?” Miriam asked doubtfully. He wanted to reassure her but couldn’t. His own suspicion had pricked up in unison.
“No.”
This warehouse was a tinderbox waiting to go up in flames. “Good afternoon?” she called into the stuffy darkness. There was no response.
“So much for a secure storehouse. We appear to be alone.”
“Perhaps we should try another tactic,” Miriam suggested. “We can continue looking into warehouse space. But wouldn’t it be better if we never had to store them at all?”
“How do you mean?” Richard asked. The tightness in his chest eased. He was supposed to be the local expert, but he had never rented warehouse space before. Anything to get him out of needing to take this step was welcome. Especially if it meant keeping Miriam by his side for a bit longer.
“What if we could sell the goods even before they arrive?” Her eyes sparkled. “Offload the boat, put the crates onto a wagon and take them directly to the buyers. It could work.”
Richard found himself nodding agreement. “Sensible. Very sensible.” He was so relieved to escape the warehouse that he leaned in to buss her on the cheek. Startled, Miriam squeezed his hand. The small gesture made his heart swell with hope.
* * *
“We representa shipping company from New York,” Richard said for what felt like the millionth time. To Mrs. Kent’s consternation the visit to Windsor had been delayed yet again. “We import tobacco, cotton, and fine imported goods from America. While we establish our presence here, we are offering excellent prices.”
Howard’s warning echoed in Richard’s mind.Not too excellent.
“You’re English,” replied the prospective buyer with confusion.
“Yes, that is fact.” Richard heaved an inward sigh. He and Miriam had traipsed through seeking a distributor of goods. They might have had more success if theThetishad come into harbor, but without actual goods or duties clearance, they might as well be selling clouds instead of cotton.
“If you’re English,” the merchant asked with more puzzlement than insult, “why do you work for an American?”
He glanced sidelong and met Miriam’s brief flicker attention. It was enough for Richard to see the worry in her. “He is the partner in this venture,” Miriam interjected. “I am Mr. Northcote’s…” Miriam trailed off. “Wife.”
Hearing Miriam call herself his wife sent a shiver up his spine.
“Oh,” the shopkeeper replied. “I see.”
Clearly, the man did not. Not everyone was born with the same intellectual gifts, of course, but Richard briefly wondered how the shop stayed in business with a man this thick at its helm. The answer appeared before the thought finished flickering through his mind.
“What are you…” A large-hipped, big-bosomed woman bustled into the front room.
“My wife,” the man said. “She usually makes the orders.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs…” Miriam trailed off.
