Page 6 of The Lost Lord
“What brings you to the Pines?” asked Miriam. Lizzie’s aunt’s retreat was known as the Pines, a sprawling estate reserved for warm-weather pleasures.
“Liz-”
Lizzie interrupted him with a laugh. “The same thing that brings everyone else, I’m sure. To escape the summer heat.”
Richard frowned at his lover. She gave him one hard, quick glare that clearly saidkeep your mouth shut. What was she up to, anyway?
“Yes, I had a break in my business in the city and decided to reward myself with a short holiday.” Richard supplied. He could play Lizzie’s game a little longer.
“How long are you staying?” asked Miriam.
Richard glanced at Lizzie. “A few days,” he replied vaguely. Lizzie flashed him a quick, brilliant grin. A queasy sensation settled into his gut.
“And who is this charming young lady?” He bowed to the woman standing a few feet away. She reminded him of an umbrella. Her black dress fell in pleats from her waist. Her bonnet could have been the knobbed handle. Her form held no discernible curves, and her visage was as sharp-featured as a crone’s though her skin remained unlined. She scowled at him.
“This is Mrs. Kent, my nurse,” Miss Walsh explained.
Richard looked at her askance. “You seem rather aged for needing a nursemaid.”
The girl laughed. “I was ahead of Lizzie in school. My health is not as strong as one could hope, so Mrs. Kent attends me everywhere I go.”
To be sure, Miss Walsh was fine-boned and reed-slim, yet Richard sensed in her a vitality that belied illness. He smiled easily, a trick he had learned for getting along in his adopted country. “You look strong to me.”
It had been the right thing to say. Miss Walsh’s fine eyes lit up like a thousand stars.
“Miss Walsh suffers from asthma. Any attack could be fatal,” Miss Kent declared dourly.
“Thank you, Miss Kent, for your candidness about my private affairs,” Miss Walsh replied firmly.
Richard approved of this reticence. It struck him as very English to be so circumspect. He decided to like Miss Walsh. It was the first time he could recall ever feeling that way about an American. In two years of exile he had found much to admire, respect, and appreciate about them, but he had not yet met one for whom he felt the slightest bit of kinship.
This included Lizzie, who had been uncharacteristically quiet for the past several minutes.
“Tomorrow we are going sea bathing in the morning. My aunt is holding an oyster bake in the afternoon for luncheon. Will you join us, Lord Northcote?”
Again, Richard stared hard at his lover. “I am not Lord Northcote. Not here. I am only Richard or Mr. Northcote if you must be formal.”
“Don’t be silly. Miriam, Lord Northcote is related to royalty. Can you imagine?” Lizzie giggled.
Richard sighed. What the devil was she plotting?
Most likely, Lizzie was trying to in some roundabout way to get him to propose. Lizzie had a habit of ignoring boring practical matters, such as preexisting vows that legally bound her to another man. Richard had no intention of becoming the man she ignored, much less cuckolded.
“Of course, I shall be delighted to join you.” Richard finally replied, since she wanted it, and Richard disliked fighting with her. Lizzie winked. Richard shook his head ever so slightly. What was she after? He returned his attention to Miss Walsh, who had glanced out over the sea, clearly embarrassed at the revelation of her condition. Unnecessarily so. Richard tried to forget about the fact, for Miss Walsh’s sake. It hardly mattered, not to him.
“Wonderful. We will meet you at the beach at eleven.”
Richard shrugged. He would do as he was told, up to a point.
The two friends had separated and were standing a few feet apart. Catching Lizzie’s elbow Richard pulled her aside.
“What are you up to?”
“Whatever do you mean?” Lizzie asked innocently.
“Don’t play coy. Whatever you’re plotting, leave me out of it.” He jerked his head. “Her, too.”
Lizzie tossed her head. “You’ve a suspicious mind tonight, Richard. I’ll find you later. We’ll talk then.”
