Page 8 of The Lost Lord
“What about Arthur? He wants you back.” God only knew why. Richard would have given anything to get Lizzie out of his life before this trip. It had been sheer laziness and fear of her prodigious temper that he let her stay in it for so long. A spark of an idea burst into Richard’s brain like the flare of a match.
“I will find out his price.” Lizzie sat up beside him in the bed, unashamedly naked. Richard found himself examining her body for any sign of pregnancy.
“Lizzie.”
“Yes, darling?”
There was another way out of this mess, one far more palatable than leaving his child to Lizzie’s not-so-tender mercies. He could beat Lizzie at her own game. Courting Miriam Walsh could prove entertaining if she was half as intelligent as she was pretty. He’d give her every warning, every opportunity to run. In the meantime, Richard could try and convince Lizzie to return to her husband. Her friend would be safe from her machinations.
If Miss Walsh didn’t heed his warnings, well, there was no reason he had to go along with the second part of Lizzie’s plan. Richard was selfish enough to pursue her without intending to kill her. Everyone said he looked after his own interests at the expense of everyone else, although Richard knew it more that he looked after no one’s interests at all, not even his own.
Having found his way out from his entanglement with Lizzie, Richard vowed to keep the Miriam safe from harm if the girl was foolish enough to marry him.
“We can’t see each other this way if you want your scheme to work.” Richard said slowly. Outside, crickets sang. An owl hooted in the distance.
Lizzie looked as befuddled as a lost puppy. The kind of puppy that looked adorable, then bit a chunk out of your flesh at the first opportunity. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I won’t stand a chance of seducing Miss Walsh if you cling to me like a vine.”
Lizzie gave him a full-lipped pout. “Of course, I would give you the space you need during the day. But why would you not want to see me at night, discreetly?”
Because you disgust me.But Richard could hardly say that to the mother of his child. “Because coming to my rooms is the antithesis of discretion. How well do you think it would go with Miss Walsh if she heard of a woman visiting my rooms at night whilst I am pursuing her affections?”
Lizzie pouted. “Truly, I don’t see why it matters.”
Good lord. What a child Lizzie was.
“A gentleman doesn’t woo one woman while carrying on a public liaison with another, Lizzie. I must focus on Miss Walsh if you want me to truly sweep her off her feet.” Richard deliberately chose the words Lizzie herself had used. She eyed him as if he was a worm trying to wriggle off a fishing hook.
“Fine. But I want to be informed at every step as you court Miriam.” She brightened. “Seduce her quickly, so she has to marry you. We could have her fortune even before the baby arrives. Once you’re married, you can use her money in any way you want.”
Richard grimaced. “Yes. But you cannot.”
Lizzie narrowed her eyes at him.
“You must let me do this my way, or it won’t work.”
“All right then. For the baby.” She reached for the bottle of wine and clinked it against his glass before taking a deep swig. A trail of crimson dropped from the corner of her mouth like a drop of blood. Richard suppressed a shudder.
“Best put that away now, don’t you think?” he asked with deceptive softness.
Lizzie wiped away the stray drop. “Oh, be like that, then.”
She snatched up her dress, clearly expecting him to rush after her and soothe her ruffled feelings. But Richard simply watched from the bed until she opened the door, cast him a glare of affront, and slammed it hard behind her.
Richard almost hoped that someone had heard Lizzie’s noisy exit. Anything that might foil this vile plan to steal Miss Walsh’s fortune was worth the risk. He snatched up the wine bottle and downed the remnants. Self-loathing curdled in his stomach, hot and hard and hollow.
Chapter 5
Miriam glanced quickly up the beach for the hundredth time in as many minutes. Perched on a rickety chair in the sand beneath a sort of tent rigged from a length of striped linen and scavenged pieces of driftwood, she let the wind flap the pages of her book like a bird’s wings. Every few minutes, Mrs. Kent leapt up to secure a flap that had been tugged loose by the breeze. Miriam hoped the effect was charming, for she expected the entire contraption to collapse and suffocate her at any moment.
She dug her toes into the sand as though she could bury her impatience. It had been an hour since they had arrived for sea bathing. In another hour their little party would depart for a lavish midday meal taken in the shaded glen a short drive from their boarding house. There was no sign of Lizzie.
There was no sign of Lord Northcote, either.
Miriam saw in her mind’s eye the way his dark hair ruffled in the breeze. She imagined the soft texture were she to run her fingers through the length of it and swallowed. His cheekbones were as sharp as oyster shells that cut her feet on the rocky beach. Behind his lashes the man’s eyes were pools of dark promise, as rich and as tempting as chocolate.
Lord Northcote had an air of mystery about him. What was he doing in New York? Was he truly exiled, as Lizzie had claimed?
