Page 5 of The Lost Lord
“I’m not a business decision, Howard. I’m your friend.” He clapped one hand over Howard’s shoulder. He didn’t say,you are my only friend. The only one I’ve ever had. But Richard thought it.
He deserved Lizzie with all her flaws. If she wanted to use him to punish the husband she didn’t want, it was none of his concern. He was nothing more than willing partner abetting her abdication of responsibility. Without his title, Richard was nothing more than a vessel for depravity.
Chapter 3
Richard examined the rough white-washed cottage he would be staying in—alone—for the next three nights with considerable distaste. Not long before he had been forced out of England, Richard’s mistress had demanded a country home as payment for her services. Richard had sent his agent to procure one. Instead, the man presented him and his mistress for an exceedingly short time with a hovel. The roof leaked, the windows needed replacing, and the entire interior needed refurbishing.
That dilapidated country cottage was a palace compared to this hovel.
His lodgings were unfit for human habitation. Undoubtedly there were squirrels in the rafters. Ugh. He hoped the racoons weren’t breeding. They made such an ungodly noise when they were—a fact he could have died happily without knowing.
“My aunt had it swept and aired out before you came. She anticipated you’d need your own place to sleep. The only other option was to house you with Spencer and the other boys, but then we couldn’t be alone.” Lizzie grinned and ran her fingernails up his chest. Richard supposed it was meant to make him anticipate stolen evenings in her arms, but instead, he shuddered.
If he had his choice, Richard’s cock would’ve wilted at the sight of Lizzie’s pert breasts. His body, however, was long accustomed to women angling to warm his bed for a night. Willpower required a will, and his had been pruned to the root after his fall from grace. Richard’s determination to secure his comfortable future after Edward’s unwelcome return had culminated in setting the blaze that killed his father. The fire had destroyed the family townhome and also charred Richard’s will to live to ash.
Hence, his acceptance of his brother’s banishment decree. It had been presented as a choice, but Richard knew better. Edward had told him to get out of the country and not come back.
Hence, falling in with Lizzie. Until Howard’s warning, Richard had drifted in a state of ignorant bliss. But with the possibility he could be named as a respondent in a divorce, Richard was determined to break with Lizzie. He only needed to find the right moment to tell her the news gently.
Tonight had not been the right time. They’d left New York at dawn, far earlier than Richard was accustomed to waking, and walked to the pier where Lizzie’s husband moored his yacht. He’d been grateful to discover his satchel loaded onto the general-transport clipper instead of Arthur’s nimble pleasure boat. He’d caught a glimpse of Lizzie’s husband. Arthur’s light hair glinted in the bright morning light. He stood a few inches taller than his wife, whose short, thin body bent away from Arthur’s like a reed in the wind.
From there, it had been a short journey to New Jersey. They rounded the shoulder of the island and entered the lower bay which fed into the Atlantic Ocean. Richard stared over the vast expanse of glittering water.
I will go home.
Whatever it takes.
By evening, bored, Richard stepped out of his lodgings and headed for the beach. With his jacket slung over one shoulder he strode along carelessly. A sea breeze ruffled his dark wavy hair like mermaid fingers. Richard’s mouth curved up at the corners in a rusty grin. He did not smile often, not anymore.
Lizzie had been right about taking a break from the city. Lizzie was perceptive, in her way.
“Richard!”
Twined female forms emerged out of the twilight. Lizzie’s hair was unmistakable. She walked arm-in-arm with a taller woman that Richard first took to be her aunt. That seemed strange. Lizzie and her aunt had never gotten along. As they drew closer, he realized he had been mistaken. The second woman was someone he did not know, closer to Lizzie’s age.
This, too, seemed unusual. Lizzie had many acquaintances but few friends. This girl appeared every bit as buttoned up as the matrons of Lizzie’s parents’ set. Behind the pair trailed a black-clad figure. A chaperone of some sort.
“Richard!” Lizzie called out, releasing one hand from the intimate hold she had on the newcomer. She waved at him as though they had not seen one another in years. Puzzled, Richard waved back. He walked over the gritty sand toward them. Oyster shells crunched beneath his bare feet.
“Hello, Lizzie.”
“Richard, may I present Miriam Walsh, my friend from boarding school.”
Lizzie was up to something. He could tell from the way she spoke a little breathlessly, animated by more than just the refreshingly cool sea breeze. From the way her tongue swept fleetingly over her lower lip, leaving it shiny with moisture.
Richard sketched a bow. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Walsh.”
“Likewise,” the lady replied. Even on the beach where the wind whipped away words the instant they were spoken, he could hear the sultriness in her voice. It sent a frisson down his spine.
Miriam Walsh looked up at him with enormous, heavily lashed gray eyes. Her cheek curved in a perfect oval with a small pointed chin framing pretty lips of pale pink. The whole effect was topped by a wind-whipped coil of black curls escaping their casual coiffure.
Miss Walsh is a moon goddess, Richard thought nonsensically. He shook his head to clear it.
“Miriam is here with her family for the summer. On holiday. What a lovely surprise to see you here, dear, dear Miri.” Lizzie clutched her friend’s arm.
“Lizzie, no one calls me that nickname anymore.” Miss Walsh replied with an easy laugh.
“Well, I do.” Lizzie grasped her friend’s arm a little tighter, as though Miss Walsh were a shore bird that might take wing.
