Page 31 of The Lost Lord
“She isn’t in her room. Your daughter is directly behind you.” Richard gestured behind the man. Livingston lowered the pistol and whirled. Miriam rushed past her father and into Richard’s waiting arms.
“You’re here,” she breathed against him. Richard winked at Livingston over her shoulder. The man rolled his eyes skyward.
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Livingston observed with chagrin. “I suppose running you off was a tactical error. You may as well come inside, Lord Northcote.”
“Are you well, Miri?” Richard asked, squeezing her shoulders as they entered the dark entryway. Mrs. Kent banged around in the kitchen, clearly displeased at his arrival.
“I am. My attacks are frightening, I know, but when they are over, I’m right as rain.” Miriam’s naturally pale skin glowed with health and her cheeks were flushed with color. Her eyes were bright with happiness, not fever. Richard relaxed for the first time in a week.
“I was so glad to see you yesterday,” he murmured. Miriam shifted closer to him despite the warm afternoon flooding in through the wall of windows at the rear, steaming the air like the conservatory at Briarcliff. Her body brushed his, a hint of breast, a definite shoulder, knuckles and fingertips sliding over naked skin. Richard’s body became an inferno, forcing him to conjure thoughts of his grandmother’s perfume to prevent his body from staging a rebellion.
Mrs. Kent banged a tea service onto the table, startling them apart. “Welcome back, your lordship.”
“Don’t mind her,” Miriam said quickly. “She and father have agreed to tolerate your presence, but I’m afraid you can’t expect pleasantness.”
“Mrs. Kent,” Richard called out. The woman’s back stiffened.
“Yes?” she asked without turning around.
“I should like to learn the treatments you gave Miriam during her attack.”
“You would?” The woman half-turned, suspicious to the core.
“Surely two people who know how to recognize the signs of an asthma attack, and how to treat it, would increase Miriam’s safety?”
Mrs. Kent sniffed. “Perhaps. If you stick around.” She stomped away, though Richard thought he detected a note of acquiescence in her step.
“That was a smart thing to ask for,” Miriam told him as she poured tea. “Though if she shows you, you must be careful not to let her think her position is in danger. Where I go, Mrs. Kent goes.”
A warning, and a fair one.
“I promise I shall never attempt to interfere with your relationship with your companion,” Richard replied. Miriam entwined her fingers with his, raised his hand and brushed the knuckles with her lips. Richard’s cock jerked in his trousers. He inhaled deeply and willed his arousal away. No matter how little he deserved her, Richard wanted her.
“Will you come with us to Cliffside?” Miriam pleaded. “I know it is fast of me to invite you, but the thought of enduring six weeks until we return is unbearable.”
The memory of a small, thin arm darting out from a loose crate board for a cup of water flashed in his memory. Richard scooped sugar into his tea and imagined brown hands that had toiled to bring him this small pleasure of good tea and a bit of sweetness. He understood now why Howard couldn’t stop. Once you had seen how it affected people you couldn’t look away. Anything one did was insufficient but doing nothing was no longer possible.
“How far away is your country seat?” he asked.
“Seat?” Miriam asked, confused.
“House. I used an English term for a country estate,” Richard clarified with some embarrassment. He didn’t relinquish her small, soft hand. But the flood of new emotion dampened his arousal and for that he received it with gratitude. It occurred to Richard that listening to his emotions instead of trying to drown them in spirits made him feel better than he ever had in his life. Maybe feelings were to be embraced, not feared.
“I see.” Miriam squeezed his hand and let go. “Cliffside is far grander than this. It is about two hours upriver in the Palisades. Ordinarily we spend all summer there. My father has had business in the city, and I chose to join him for I get bored while stuck in the country.”
Richard mentally noted that he would have to bring Miriam to London for regular socializing. Once he was made… Richard hadn’t told her about the title yet. Thanks to Edward’s cryptic note he didn’t know what title he might be elevated to. For now, it was best to keep that information to himself.
“Is that why you started investing?” Richard asked, returning his thoughts to the woman before him.
“How do you know about that?” Miriam demanded, her gray eyes wide with disbelief.
Richard could have smacked his forehead at the slip. Lizzie had told him, of course. “You hinted at it,” Richard lied. “I guessed the rest. It is true?”
“Yes.” Miriam grinned. “Based upon the results, I daresay I’ve a knack for it.”
Richard’s grin spread across his face to match hers. “Interesting. I’m considering investing in a new concern of Howard’s. I’d be glad of your advice.”
This truth-telling felt freeing. Richard had never contemplated how much effort it took to maintain falsehoods until he stopped doing it.
