Page 13 of The Lost Lord
He smiled, holding her shoulders with large warm hands. Miriam kissed his knuckle. He smiled and touched her cheek.
“Tell her I will be calling on you.”
Miriam felt giddy. “So much for bad boy Itchy,” she laughed. “You are a perfect gentleman.”
Richard scowled.
“Oh. I apologize. I forgot that you didn’t like the nickname. Well, Richard. I care enough to give you a nickname. Give me a bit of time, and I’ll find a better one than Itchy.”
He laughed. “Go now. Young women shouldn’t be out naming creatures they find in the forest at midnight. You might find yourself saddled with a pet you hadn’t anticipated.”
Miriam laughed again. “I’m not superstitious.” She gathered her skirts close around her as she picked her way through the brush. Richard had said he would call, and Miriam believed him. This had to be it. The start of her real life, her great, grand adventure. Hermore.
Chapter 7
He had warned her, and she still hadn’t run. Either Miss Walsh hadn’t believed him, or she fancied herself more intelligent than the average girl. Richard cursed Miriam Walsh for a fool.
It did absolutely nothing to diminish the memory of Miriam’s artless embrace.
Her slim body had fit neatly against his. She was tall enough to rest her pale cheek against his shoulder in a way that brought to mind those rare postcoital moments when he had tolerated a lover’s closeness. He must be smarting more from Lizzie’s manipulations than he realized if Miriam’s soft hair against his chin had given him that much comfort.
As though he had conjured her by thought alone, Lizzie’s slight form appeared out of the darkness. Again, she wore white. Richard wanted to throttle her for being so incautious.
“Richard?”
“Go away, Lizzie.” He had an obligation to support his child. He did not intend to let her impulsiveness ruin their plans, however distasteful he found them.
“Richard, you are doing brilliantly! Miriam is halfway to being in love with you already!” Lizzie hopped and clapped her hands like a little girl. Richard held some doubts as to that. Miriam appeared to be taken with him for reasons of her own.
She bounced closer to him, and Richard caught a whiff of alcohol. Suddenly furious, Richard stomped down the porch steps and grabbed her roughly by the arm.
“Get soused again, and I will have you confined for the duration of your pregnancy.” Although he had never paid much attention to the problem, even Richard had heard of women in London’s St. Giles slum who drank to excess and produced small, sickly babies that failed to thrive. Those that survived grew into slow adults.
“You have no right,” she growled. “Only Arthur can confine me against my will, and that only as long as he remains my husband.”
Lizzie stared up at him with a mulish expression. Her vixen face sported a goose egg on the forehead and the beginnings of a shiner beneath her left eye.
“What the hell happened, Lizzie?”
“I-” She tried to shake him off. Richard gripped her arm tighter.
“You’re hurting me, Richard,” she complained,
“You’re injured. Tell me what happened. Now.”
“I tumbled off the porch rail tonight at the dance,” Lizzie pouted, jerking her head away.
Richard swore. “This is the same boy you were frottaging with in the water today?”
“Are you jealous?” she asked coyly over her shoulder.
“Of course not. Lizzie, we are no longer together. I will do what I must to ensure that our child has an income and a future, but I cannot and will not marry you.”
Lizzie looked shocked. “But you love me. You adore me. You said it…”
Richard shook his head. “I have never said I loved you. That was always your interpretation. We were finished the minute you blackmailed me into seducing Miriam Walsh.”
“Blackmail?” Lizzie’s mouth hung agape. “I did no such thing! You ought to be grateful I’m giving you a family.” Lizzie poked his chest with one diminutive but painfully pointy finger. “It’s not as if your own family wants you.”
