Page 38 of The Lost Lord
“Of course,” Richard drawled in his most English lord tone. Miriam frowned at him.
“I need a yes or no.” The pastor waited.
“Yes. That is what of course means,” Richard observed. The officiant stiffened. His eyes narrowed. He cast a dark glare at Miriam as if to quell her optimism for this union. In turn, she glanced sidelong at Richard. He squeezed her gloved hand reassuringly.
Although it was only mid-morning, Miriam wore a rose-colored gown with silver trim at the neckline and lace at the sleeves and hem. Her father had rolled his eyes upon finding her so dressed. “You’re only getting married, Miri.”
As marriage was one adventure she had never expected to embark upon, Miriam had decided a bit of sparkle was warranted. It offset the thin gold ring Richard had placed on her left hand.
“I pronounce you husband and wife,” barked the officiant. He snapped his book closed. Behind them, Livingston Walsh clapped loudly. Mrs. Kent’s brow knit over her thin nose, but tears shone in her eyes. Richard bowed and offered Miriam his arm.
It was done. She was a wife.
“Are you going to kiss me?” she asked, a little breathless.
Tonight, Miriam would have her next adventure. She shivered with awareness. Richard bent his head to hers and brushed a chaste kiss against her mouth. Well. That was disappointing. Understandable, considering their audience, however.
“Surely you’ll accept a glass of champagne on your wedding morning,” Livingston declared as they trooped into the bright dining room to find a large table spread with crystal and delicate pastries.
“Father. Stop. He doesn’t drink now,” Miriam shushed. A tense moment passed as Richard stared down both temptation and her father. He wavered. She could see it. Miriam shot a dark glare at Livingston.
“It’s fine,” Richard murmured. Richard stood before his chair and raised the cool glass by its thick stem as Livingston launched into a brief toast.
“I wish you and Miriam a long and happy life together. Welcome to the family.” Livingston touched his glass to Miriam’s, then Mrs. Kent’s, and finally to Richard’s. The ladies sipped the fizzy stuff. Richard pressed the vessel to his mouth. He swallowed a small sip and placed the glass back on the table. Miriam beamed at him.
“Delicious,” Richard mumbled. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“When do you return to the city?” Livingston asked. Beyond the tree line, the river sparkled blue and restless in an expansive view down the Hudson River. The cold front had blown off in the night.
“Immediately,” Richard responded. Miriam started beside him.
“So soon?” she asked. He squeezed her hand as if reluctant to disappoint her.
“We have many details to pin down before the ship sets sail. I promise you shall have your wedding night,” Richard said, his jaw tense. Where was the charming man Miriam had coaxed to her side over the past several weeks? This was no time for Richard to turn curmudgeon.
“About that,” Livingston drawled, ever ready to focus on business. “Have you and Howard decided upon your goods yet?”
“Not fully,” he replied. Miriam’s husband of half an hour wouldn’t meet her eyes. “It is one more detail I must pin down before we leave. We’ve a meeting at the warehouse.”
“But…” Miriam gasped. “I thought Howard was in charge of cargo.”
Richard leaned close and whispered against her cheek, “Dear heart, we shall have our wedding night. Just not this evening.”
She inhaled and shuddered. “Of course.” Miriam cleared her throat. “There’s also the proportion of passengers versus cargo. TheThetiscan only carry so much. I prefer to diversify our offering rather than bet entirely on a single shipment. Tobacco may only be imported through London, and we shall have considerable competition from the East India company. We shall also import bolts of cotton and wheat.” She babbled to conceal her confusion. Richard had wanted her two nights ago. How could he leave her now? Why wouldn’t he look her in the eye?
Livingston nodded. “Solid planning. As your wedding gift, I shall offer financial backing. If it all goes tits up, you can live off Miriam’s investments. And what will your role be?”
“I am taking Miriam ahead to secure warehouse space and make contacts in London. I need her head for figures with me.”
There. It was out.
“The hell you will. You promised not to take her away from me. Miriam stays.” Livingston grabbed the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket to refill his glass.
“I wish for my bride to meet my family. It won’t be for long.”
“No. My daughter stays, or I withdraw my support.” Livingston glared at him. Beside him, Mrs. Kent pursed her lips and picked at a miniature cake.
“Father.” Miriam interjected. “Richard is to receive a title. He’ll be made a lord by the king. I wish to be there.”
