Page 22 of The Lost Lord
“I’ve seen the way you look at him.”
“And how is that?” Miriam demanded indignantly, her face flaming.
“Besotted.” Livingston Walsh ambled out the door.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
“Cowering in my office. Call me when it’s time to eat.”
And with that he left Miriam to her thoughts about the man who would brave her father to see her. Her love for her father did not make her blind to his faults, namely, a pigheaded belief that he could make the world bend to his will. With the exception of the untimely death of her mother, Miriam was convinced that Livingston had mostly succeeded. If she wished for more from her life than the sheltered existence she led now, Miriam would have to find the courage to defy the person she loved best.
* * *
Miriam’s doubtsabout Richard’s financial precariousness eased at the sight of a gleaming buggy with red-lacquered wheels rolling up to her front garden the next afternoon. Dust billowed up from the street as he pulled the chestnut horse to a halt.
Her heart thudded. Never in a thousand years would she have imagined finding a man as handsome as Richard swing down from an elegant vehicle, drape his reins around a gatepost, and doff his hat. His dark hair gleamed in the afternoon sunlight and curled around his ears.
“Good afternoon, Miss Walsh.”
“Your lordship.” Miriam dropped a curtsey. He was here for her. Giddy happiness flooded through her until she had to stifle the urge to giggle. Her father wouldn’t find the obsequious gesture humorous in the least, if he caught her at it.
When she bobbed up again Miriam found Richard’s mouth drawn in a tight line. She sighed. If only he wore his title with a bit of levity. She didn’t understand why he was so sensitive about his title, but clearly it was not a joking matter to him. “I am only teasing, Richard.”
Richard relaxed fractionally and forced a half-smile.
“May I come inside and say hello to your father before we take our brief jaunt?” he asked formally. She wished she knew how to reassure him. Her father could be terribly intimidating, hence the novelty of a gentleman caller. He’d done well during yesterday’s brief visit, but she had worried her father had scared him off.
“That’s unnecessary. Besides, he isn’t here.” Miriam had encouraged her father to make himself absent for the afternoon. “Mrs. Kent shall accompany us as chaperone.”
For an instant, Richard’s mouth went from a firm line to an outright scowl. Then, he schooled his features into a semblance of pleasure although the tension never left his shoulders. Had Miriam not been scanning his face for any sign of approval, she’d have missed the transformation.
“Of course. There’s room for four in the carriage.”
“In the buggy, you mean?” Miriam asked cheekily.
“If you insist on calling it by an improper Americanism,” Richard chuckled.
“That’s better,” she grinned. “I thought you were unhappy to see me. Perhaps regretting your offer of fresh air and sunshine.”
Now, she was the insecure one. Miriam’s good humor faded instantly.
“I could never regret a single moment spent with you,” Richard responded. Miriam glanced at her feet, shod in good leather boots already made dusty from the short walk from her front door to the road. She wished she believed it, yet she detected a false note that made her wonder if he was only courting her out of obligation. It was the sort of thing a scoundrel who was after her fortune might say. At least he hadn’t said it in front of her father. Richard had claimed to be poor when they were at the Pines, yet surely a lord connected to a prominent aristocratic family couldn’t truly be poor.
Short of funds, perhaps.
“Up you go, my lady,” Richard turned away to help Mrs. Kent into the carriage. Even her suspicious and dour caretaker cracked a smile under the sudden appearance of his natural charm. It came out like the sun on a cloudy day, there one moment, dimmed the next. Once Mrs. Kent was settled Richard handed her into the vehicle. The lightest, most proper contact between his gloved hand and hers was enough to send awareness skittering over her skin. The feeling spread to the pit of her stomach as Richard stepped up and took his place opposite them. The driver flicked the reins and the horses jolted into motion. Before long, they’d followed Broadway uptown to where fields dotted with buildings. The wheels rolled faster, kicking up dust. Miriam coughed. Miriam said nothing.
“Where would you like to go?” he asked, oblivious to her distress. Miriam sipped air, trying to conceal the way her throat closed.Not now. Please, not now.
“Uptown,” she croaked. Mrs. Kent’s gaze sliced over her. Her hand grazed the kit at her hip.
“Slow your driver down, Lord Northcote,” Mrs. Kent demanded. Richard turned to the driver and gave the signal. The horses settled into a walk. Miriam’s distress eased, though her airway remained constricted enough to produce a faint wheeze with every breath. Embarrassed heat wormed into her bodice to press against her skin. Richard’s brow furrowed.
Miriam waved airily. “I’m fine.”
Mrs. Kent glared.
“Are you certain?” Richard asked, clearly worried now. Oh, this was too embarrassing. She was not so frail that a brief carriage ride on a sunny afternoon should present any sort of challenge. If only the vehicle he’d selected wasn’t open-topped.
