Page 25 of The Lost Lord
“Miriam only wants you because I had you first. She was always jealous of me at school.”
Richard laughed. “Miriam pities you.”
Lizzie’s eyes narrowed into dangerous points. “Get on with marrying her, Lord Northcote. Get access to Miriam’s stock funds. I shall go with you to England. You may introduce me as your wife. We can start over, afresh. No one will know I’m a bigamist. Not if we don’t tell them.”
Sick helplessness doused his fury in an instant. “No, I won’t lie, Lizzie. My mind hasn’t changed. I don’t love you. I never did. I don’t want you. I promised to take responsibility for the child. If there is one.”
Lizzie slapped him. His cheek stung with the force. “How dare you question me,” she spat. He closed his eyes as she stomped to the door and slammed it behind her, just as he’d done scarcely two hours ago. What a lovely relationship they had. Their poor child. What a situation he or she would be born into.
Alone, Richard picked up the letter and began to read. The fragile bloom of hope that Lizzie had crushed with her boot heel moments before sprang to life, renewed. Optimism swelled his heart until he thought it would burst.
Richard, it began without preamble.
After much reflection I have found much to regret in my own actions leading up to our father’s death. I find I forgive your past actions and regret sending you away. I wish to make a fresh start with you. As a brother. In a gesture of conciliation, I have petitioned the Crown to bestow a minor title and expand the lands upon which your misbegotten country cottage is located. It was Father’s dying wish. Come home and claim your birthright.
Yours,
Lord Edward Northcote, Earl of Briarcliff
Chapter 12
Miriam had never seen her father in such fury. She hoped never to see him so again.
“Blasted shit-for-brains nobleman taking my daughter for a carriage ride on a hot day on a dusty road!” Livingston roared. “With the top down!”
“Language,” Mrs. Kent reminded him in a singsong voice.
“Stuff your politeness, Fran. Where were you when my daughter was choking to death? What do I pay you for if not to guard her health?”
“We were overtaken by a group of fast horses, Father. No one could have predicted they would kick up so much dust. And if you hadn’t been telling me how foolish I am to think a man might enjoy my company for the duration of an afternoon perhaps I would have spoken up instead of feeling so anxious to impress him!” Had she been able to get out of bed Miriam might have stomped her foot in a self-indulgent show of frustration. As it was, all she could do was cough violently until the wheeze returned to her breath. This sent Mrs. Kent into a flurry of action.
“Hold her, Livingston,” Mrs. Kent demanded. Livingston gently cupped Miriam’s chin and pressed her mouth open as Mrs. Kent forced a copper funnel between her teeth.
“No!” Miriam tried to cry out, but her mouth was too full of metal. The deep black liquid that past for medicine they choked her on its way down.
“Now the belladonna. Again. It only works if the water is hot.” Mrs. Kent poured hot water from the kettle over a bowl and bent Miriam’s head over the vessel. Miriam coughed and inhaled deeply. A towel descended around her head, trapping the fumes that eased the vise in her throat. Before long she could breathe again though her throat ached from so much coughing.
Crisis averted, Livingston and Mrs. Kent relaxed fractionally. Miriam removed the towel and lay back against the pillows.
“I forbid you to see him again,” Livingston declared. His boots tapped up and down the floorboards in a restless pattern of barely restrained revenge. “Northcote cannot be trusted to protect you. He’s proven that much.”
“Father, you cannot forbid me anything. I am of age, remember?” Right now, Miriam felt far older than her twenty-three years. Each attack left her feeling as if time was running out. If she didn’t seize this opportunity, she might never have another to experience life, love, and adventure. Yet every time she dared set foot out of place her physical limitations dictated her immediate coddling. “Richard didn’t do it on purpose. He hasn’t learned the specifics of how to keep me from enduring an attack. I don’t know ifwehave learned the specifics with any precision, and we’ve been managing my condition since I was a child. Give him a little time.”
“I warned the careless bastard that if he hurt you in any way, he would no longer be welcome in my house.”
“Livingston. Stop.” Mrs. Kent interjected. “It wasn’t Northcote’s fault.”
Livingston Walsh’s eyes turned as dark as coal. Mrs. Kent held his gaze as steady as a rock beneath the pounding waves of the sea. Every muscle in his neck stood out as his fury burned and banked.
“Father please.” Miriam begged hoarsely.
“Not his fault, my ass,” her father grumbled. “I suppose this day was inevitable. The women of the house colluding against me.” Like a rooster settling ruffled feathers, her father strode to the window and stared out into the street.
Mrs. Kent tried and failed to stifle a smile. The corners of her lips curved up to reveal a dimple at either side of her thin cheeks. Miriam smiled wanly in thanks. It had been her, Livingston, and Mrs. Kent ever since she’d been twelve. Before that there had been a succession of nurses. Not one had been able to tolerate Livingston’s outbursts for longer than a few months. Her father was not an easy man, but he had a good heart. She saw the same traits in Richard.
“You’ll do what you want anyway,” Livingston complained. “Same as her mother did by marrying me. You should know your man has been down in the street awaiting a glimpse of you all afternoon. If Mrs. Kent wishes to convey to Northcote that Miriam has recovered from the attack, I expect the man would be most relieved.”
Hope swelled in Miriam’s breast until her lungs felt tight again. “Let me see him,” she gasped.
