Page 60 of The Lost Lord
“What’s wrong, brother?” Edward asked. Richard poked at his beef for a long moment before replying.
“I regret everything I did to you when you came home. All of it. I have been the picture of remorse ever since I realized what an ass I was.”
“And when did this insight hit you?” asked Edward as their horses trudged up another hill.
“About when Lizzie pushed me into the scheme of seducing Miriam,” Richard replied. He gave up on his meal and sat back in his chair. “I had recognized the error of my ways some time before, but I did nothing about it. I never wrote to tell you I was sorry. I remained arrogant and self-pitying. Arguably, I still am.”
Edward let him sulk for several minutes. “I don’t see it that way.”
“No? Tell me, big brother, how you see my situation.”
“I see a man much changed since I sent him away. I see a brother filled with remorse who is trying to find his way forward with a woman he has hurt badly, but whom he cares for deeply,” Edward responded quietly.
The constricting band of pain around his chest tightened until Richard couldn’t breathe. “Everything I do is wrong,” he whispered.
“How do you mean?” asked Edward
“Miriam deserved to be courted by a man who loved her for who she is, not what she has. I knew that from the start, but I couldn’t stop myself from wanting her.”
“Have you told her that?”
Richard shrugged.
Edward was silent for a moment. “I suggest starting by being honest about your feelings.”
“If she’ll listen,” Richard replied.
“Mm,” Edward responded noncommittally. “She’ll listen. I cannot speak for Miriam, of course, but from my perspective consider yourself forgiven. To say that my reentry into English society was difficult is understating the case. No one knew how to handle me, except Harper.” Edward pointed into the distance. “Briarcliff is just over that hill. After we arrive, come and find me in the study. I have something to show you.”
Richard saw Miriam and Mrs. Kent comfortably settled, then went to the study where two years ago Edward had giving Richard a choice between remaining in England with a poverty or going to America and receiving a stipend. Had he managed it better, the quarterly income would have paid for a more decent standard of living. It had taken Richard a full year to figure out how to manage his funds effectively, how to say no when he was at risk of running out of money. And then, he’d met Lizzie. The study retained its leather furnishings and neat stacks of accounts. There were a few more of them than there had been in his father’s day.
“Father and I had a long conversation right before he died. He was so worried about you, Richard.” Edward rummaged through the drawers of the heavy carved oak desk father and grandfather for him had used to conduct the business of the earldom. There was history in the squeak of old wood. Richard called leaving several of the dents and scuffs in the polished surface.
“What is this?” Richard asked when his brother handed him a pale cream envelope.
“Open it,” was all Edward said.
Richard settled himself into a wingback chair near the empty fireplace. The missive was inscribed with the wordsTo Be Read by Richard Upon My Death. Richard turned it over, and with a heavy sense of foreboding, he broke the wax seal. His father’s unmistakable slanted handwriting made his breath catch.
Dear Richard, it began, as most letters did. At least, the ones addressed to him.
I know that Edward’s return home has been a blow for you. You have never lived easily in your brother’s shadow. From the time you were a babe, you have admired and emulated Edward in hopes of gaining his approval. I think it has hurt you when your brother’s regard was not so easily won. I fear your rivalry will end in heartbreak.
This is why I have petitioned King George III to have you made a viscount. You have studied and trained to be an aristocrat; although your propensity for dissolution concerns me greatly, I believe you are capable of outgrowing it with time and proper influence. You have been a dutiful spare in your way. I think you have often felt overlooked. I hope this will go some distance toward telling you how very much I am glad to have you for my son.
Your loving father,
Charles.
When Richard looked up, the room swam until he blinked. Edward stood at the window with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Father never gave up, yet he also chose not to tell you about the prospect lest he get your hopes up only for them to be dashed. It took me some time to come around to the idea, but when you wrote and said that you were about to marry, I decided it was time. I have pressed the king on this matter, and he has agreed to hear us out. We have been requested at his chambers a month hence. As you know these things are subject to royal whim, and I cannot guarantee any particular outcome.”
“Of course,” Richard responded. It was all he trusted himself to say. His world had tilted on its axis at the knowledge that his father cared enough to try and give him the status he craved. He ought to feel grateful. Yet all he felt was…empty.
“Tomorrow morning, we shall ride out to your cottage and examine it for restoration. With time, I believe we could purchase and adjoining parcels to enlarge your estate.” Edward offered.
“It sounds very reasonable,” Richard replied, as though from a long distance away. This ought to be the highlight of his life. He was about to have a home suitable for his bride. And yet, Richard couldn’t escape the feeling that he had not earned it. As though one could possibly earn atitle. Nobility was granted, not won.
