by Aileen Fish
“No, all is well there, I am told. The baby will be here soon.” He approached and stood near the bedside table where the candle glowed.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, afraid someone would see him there and demand something foolish like a proposal.
“I shouldn’t be here,” he agreed. He continued to watch her, unspeaking.
She shivered. “If there is nothing amiss, please leave, my lord. Joanna might return at any moment to inform me of Jane’s condition.”
“I will go, but I had to speak to you in private. Something has been bothering me since the ride to the folly.”
A weight pressed down on Miriam as she feared what he might say. They’d agreed to put their argument behind them, and she didn’t wish to reopen the discussion.
“Before you tried to ride off, you said something. ‘I was a fool to wait for you,’ I believe you said.”
Oh, merciful heavens. Had she said that? “I don’t recall saying such a thing.”
He took a step closer, looming over her now. He reached out and lifted a lock of her hair. “It’s so straight. I imagined it curled of its own accord.”
Her heart raced. His hand looked as though it might touch her face, and she forgot to breathe. When he withdrew it, its absence was a palpable loss. “My brother is the only one of us to have curly hair.” Why on earth did she say such a thing now?
“You haven’t answered my question,” he prodded. “I cannot remain here long. Will you tell me, or must I go mad wondering?”
Tears welled in her eyes and her throat burned. She would never recover from the embarrassment of him learning of her infatuation. “I cannot speak it. Please don’t make me.”
He smiled gently. “I don’t wish to upset you. Tell me this: did we meet before you came to Hambleton Cottage?”
She closed her eyes, forcing a tear to spill down next to her nose. “Yes.”
“When?”
“It was Lady Harrison’s ball, my first Season. Six years ago.”
“I see. We were introduced then?”
The pain of her admission stung, but not as badly as the confirmation he didn’t remember her. No hint of recognition in his manner on reminder of the event. “Not exactly.”
“How intriguing.” His teeth shone in the candlelight when he smiled. The soft light gave sharp edges to his features, which only made him more handsome, if possible. He coughed into his hand. “Forgive me. You are not the sort of woman to have taken part in the sort of repartee that could imply. How did we meet?”
Miriam’s face burned, and the tears fell faster.
He must have noticed, for he reached for the handkerchief on her table. “This is causing you pain. I didn’t mean to hurt you with my questions. I will leave you.”
She reached for his hand to stop him. “Wait.” Looking him in the eye, beyond the welling tears, she explained, “I need to move past this. You were there to play cards with a friend of yours, only his mother instructed him to dance with me. He refused. You overheard and saved me from the embarrassment of the cut direct. You asked me to dance.”
He said nothing for the longest of moments, watching her as whatever thoughts ran through his head. He nodded slowly. “I see. I apologize for not being able to recall the event, but the gift was obviously much greater for the recipient than the giver. Or perhaps it is the true measure of the sort of man I am.”
He turned their hands so hers rested in his palm and ran his finger over her skin. “I thank you for giving me this image of myself from your eyes. It is very enlightening.”
Quite abruptly, he turned and left.
Miriam held off until she heard the soft latch of the door, and buried her face in her pillow as her tears fell. She had cried herself dry by the time Joanna came to announce Jane had given birth to a healthy, very pink little girl they were naming Susan.
Chapter Eight
Northcotte went for an early ride the next morning, needing the cold air to clear the wool filling his head. He hadn’t slept after visiting Lady Miriam’s bedchamber. His emotions battled amongst themselves in reaction to hearing what she’d told him.
Young fool that he’d been he had played the cavalier, the chivalrous knight, and rescued the fair maiden in distress. That hadn’t been the first time. He’d always followed two steps behind boys such as Arrington, cleaning up their messes. He couldn’t say who the swain in Lady Miriam’s tale had been. It didn’t matter. Too many of his friends had seen themselves that way—entitled, superior, impervious to society’s restraints.
Not once in his mopping up did he consider the reaction of the young lady being rescued. They’d been no more real to him than the creditors he’d repaid months or years after his father died. Right was right, and where he saw wrong and could repair it, he did.
And now it had caught up with him. Had other young ladies formed an attachment to him when he’d performed some small act of kindness? He hoped not. They deserved to know they should have been treated with respect from the start.
Yet he didn’t pity Miriam. She wasn’t some weak, frail creature. He did hope she didn’t mean what she said about waiting for him. Had he said something to make her think he would see her again? Or somehow promised even more?
After handing over the reins to a groom and washing off the stink of the horse, Northcotte went to the dining room for some coffee. Lady Miriam was the only one at the table. A footman stood near the buffet. He poured himself a cup of coffee and stirred in some sugar before he sat opposite her at the table. “Good morning. I’m pleased to see you have recovered enough to join us again.”
She gave him a very weak smile. Her face was puffy, her eyes pink with shadows beneath them. She looked worse than after she fell. “Thank you.”
The coffee he’d swallowed turned bitter in his gut. He’d seen a tear fall when she’d spoken with him the prior evening. With the footman present, he couldn’t say much. “I hope I didn’t upset you when we spoke. It was not my intention to cause you more distress.”
“Do not concern yourself, my lord. I am quite well.”
“That pleases me to hear. My offer still stands. If there is anything I might do for you, please let me know.”
“I have considered returning home now that Jane’s baby has arrived.”
He set his cup down. When had she decided this? “So soon? I thought young ladies enjoyed hovering about a new mother.”
Lady Miriam looked down at her plate, her fork moving the eggs aimlessly. “But this is her second child. She doesn’t need me here now. She will be quite busy with the baby and Harry.”
“She has a nanny, and it will be some time before she resumes her normal activities. She would enjoy your company still, I’m certain.”
“Lady Marwick and Lady Bridgethorpe will arrive later today.” Her voice grew sharp, her manner terse. “My presence is superfluous.”
He pressed his palms flat against the linen tablecloth to keep from making fists. She was leaving on his account. He couldn’t ruin the holiday, and the joyful time of the baby’s birth, by allowing her to go. “I will go so you may stay.”
Her fork clattered as it hit her plate. “I knew that was a dream last night. It’s not possible that you became a humane, caring person in a matter of days. I still cannot reconcile you with the young man who helped me save my reputation. What has happened in your life that made you so bitter?”
He expected her to storm out of the room—it was that sort of speech—but she remained in her chair, glaring at him and demanding an answer.
An answer he probably owed her but wasn’t certain he could give. Did he even know the truth himself? “I came here directly following the funeral for a friend.”
Her pointed expression didn’t soften. “My condolences.”
“I call him friend, but more in the manner that we were school chums. I hadn’t seen him in several years.” He’d grown apart from all his friends from those days. Even Knightwick, David’s brother, and he
had a distance between them when they attended family gatherings. Most of the blame lay on him, for having taken on so much work settling his father’s affairs and letting friendships, and other relationships, dwindle.
Now came the hard part to admit, but she deserved to hear it. “His wife killed him when she found him in a delicate position.” He waited for that to settle in.
“I see. And you are angry at all of womankind for her actions, I take it?”
“Nothing of the sort.” He shifted in his seat at how accurate that barb was. “It merely showed me the inadvisability of my marrying.”
Her eyes widened. “Yes, of course. The natural supposition is to believe all women capable of killing their husbands.” She held up a hand. “Wait. I acknowledge they most likely consider it quite often over the course of a marriage, but few ever contemplate the means to do so.”
He growled. “I don’t know how much contemplation it took to grab a fire poker and use it on him.”
“It is a grand leap to go from that one event to assuming the same sort of end might come to you. Many married men live to a grand old age while keeping a mistress.”
He opened his mouth to bark out an argument when the entire picture struck him. They spoke so freely of marriage and mistresses, of birth and death, they might as well already be married. He chuckled, then laughed even louder.
“Well, I am pleased to have provided you with some small entertainment.” She pushed her chair back from the table.
“Oh, please don’t go.” He waved at the footman. “Bring Lady Miriam some fresh eggs to replace those that must be cold by now.”
“No, thank you. I have no desire to continue to argue with you, my lord.”
She’d returned to a formal attitude. He closed his eyes for a moment and calmed himself. “I promise not to argue any more. If my friend’s passing teaches me only one thing, it should be that life is too short to remain angry.”
“That is a wise motto to follow, my lord. Life is too short to miss out on many things.”
She was directly on the mark. How much had he missed by not noticing the young lady he paid service to all those years ago?
~*~
Miriam spent much of her time with Jane and the baby, too tired to do much else. She wasn’t sleeping well and found it difficult to remain awake during the day. When she tried to read, the words spun in a jumble so she reread the same paragraph repeatedly before moving on.
Lord Northcotte was not what she’d call attentive, but polite and considerate. He occasionally offered to play cards or take a turn about the room on a rainy day. Conversations between them had returned to the weather, or what he saw on his early morning rides.
She missed the spark between them, the banter. Of course, with his mercurial moods, the lack of arguments was a relief. She missed the friendship she’d felt growing between them. It had been a unique experience, one she’d enjoyed, having a man she considered a friend, who was not related to her or her girlfriends.
By Christmas Eve, she’d made a decision. Sitting in the drawing room with the others all there, her path became painfully obvious.
David and Joanna had William in their arms as they sat close, aiding him in holding his sister. Stephen held Harry, who was discovering little Susan’s fingers, ears and eyes, as she lay in her mother’s embrace. The tableau brought to mind the meaning of Christmas, beyond the religion, the love and joy a family shared.
Lord Northcotte was engrossed in the book he held, so Miriam stood. “If you’ll all excuse me, I wish to write some letters.”
They all acknowledged her without much notice and returned to their activities.
Taking a candle from a table in the hall, she went to the morning room, where the coals hadn’t been banked. She stirred them to life to bring some warmth to the cold room, and sat at Jane’s small desk. Taking a paper from the supply within, she began to write.
24 December 1814
Dearest Grandfather Danby,
After much consideration I have determined it is time I married. I understand you have a gentleman in mind for me. I trust your judgment that he is a suitable match, and will leave here in three days’ time to travel to Danby Castle.
A book hit the wooden floor behind her, making her jump. Miriam spun.
Lord Northcotte stood in the shadows just inside the room, picking a book up off the floor. “Forgive me. I misjudged the table. Am I disturbing you?”
“No. I was writing a letter.”
“I see.” He took a few awkward steps towards her. “I, uh, felt an outsider in the other room. I saw the light from the doorway…”
“They are very blessed with their families, aren’t they?” A hand squeezed her heart. But she wouldn’t be lonely like this for long. Once she reached her grandfather’s control, events would burgeon beyond her control and she would be married.
“Yes. Seeing them gives a man hope.”
She couldn’t draw a breath. What did he mean? Knowing him, and the freedom he felt to discuss mistresses and murder with her, he was about to tell her of some other woman he’d deigned docile enough to suit him. “You see? Not everyone finds marriage a miserable state.”
“They do not, this is true.”
His ambling stroll in her direction unnerved her. He appeared so much taller, so much leaner as he neared. The candlelight revealed his determined smile but hid whatever emotion lay in his handsome eyes. Trapped in her chair, she couldn’t back away. Neither could she speak.
“Yet their example is pale in comparison to the one who moves me the most.” He placed one hand on the desk, the other on the back of her chair, his wrist resting against her arm.
It took all her nerve not to flinch away from the heat burning her there. “Oh? What example is that?” Her voice had a breathless quality she couldn’t explain.
“I speak of a certain young miss and her constant faith in me, a faith not even my mother could match.”
“I see.” She cleared her throat when her words squeaked.
“I do not know what you saw in me that evening, Miriam, but I find I like the man you believed me capable of being. If I reflect on my actions since then, your vision is probably closer than my own opinion of myself, with the exception of these past few weeks. It gives me hope that I could live up to such an ideal.”
She forced herself to draw in a breath. “I’m pleased you have a better opinion of yourself.”
“It is much improved. Almost to excess, one might say. Why, I might even have the confidence to ask a lady to be my wife. That is how much you have changed me.”
A scream of frustration pushed against her lips, and she clamped her jaw shut. Why was he teasing her so? If he wished to marry her, he should tell her so now and end her uncertainty. Then a warm, comforting sensation swept over her sending peace to her mind, freeing her to flirt once again with the man she so desired. “That is quite a leap of faith, my lord. Are you certain you are up to the task?”
“No, but I am certain my wife will remind me of my shortcomings. I believe boorish and arrogant are among them.”
Heat of a different kind, embarrassment, stole over her neck and face. “How dare she say such things about you. She must be a shrew. You’ll have to keep on your toes around her.”
“I would be happy to be on my toes, and in her arms. But she hasn’t accepted me yet.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Have you asked her?”
“I thought it was understood.”
“Lord Northcotte, there is one question a woman prefers to hear spelled out so there is no confusion in the matter.”
He nodded. “I see. Well then…W…I…L…—”
“My lord!” She bit her tongue to keep from laughing.
Inching ever closer to her face, he looked her in the eye. “Miriam, please say you will be my wife.”
“Well, that is not a question—”
His mouth claiming hers cut off her words. His lips were hard, demanding; yet she pressed into
them, needing more. His hands remained on the desk and chair, so only their lips touched, yet her entire body responded, tingling as if he held her close. He pulled away, and she whimpered, following, before opening her eyes in confusion.
It pleased her to see he was breathing as hard as she was.
“You haven’t answered me.”
“If I say yes, will you kiss me again? Yes. Yes!”
One side of his mouth lifted in a smile that made her shiver. “Any time you ask it.” He captured her lips gently this time, his tongue exploring when she opened to him.
Her sigh was answered by his groan, and his hands finally clutched her shoulders. When he eased away from her mouth, he left a trail of kisses across her cheek. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear.
Her eyes opened to find his gaze. “I love you, too.”
He continued to look into her eyes for the longest time. Miriam studied his features, from the brows so much darker than his hair, to his laughing eyes, and the lines on either side of his mouth. She wanted to memorize everything about him.
Eventually he stood, glancing at the desk where her unfinished letter sat. “Who are you writing?”
She grabbed the sheet and crumpled it. “My grandfather. It’s not important.”
“Do not destroy it. I will let you finish it. I should write to my mother—she will wish to meet you.”
As she pressed the letter into a tighter ball ready to toss in the fire, a memory hit her of another interrupted missive. She burst into laughter.
Northcotte turned back to her. “What delights you so, my dear?”
She shivered at his endearment, then ducked from his gaze in embarrassment. “I was merely remembering another letter I once wrote.”
“I see. It was a humorous tale you told, was it?”
“Only in hindsight.” She sighed, knowing what she must do. “I told you the worst of it already. You will not hate me for this. When Grandfather Danby insisted we all come and submit to his marriage plans for us, I felt I needed rescue. And by now you know the one man I felt capable of rescuing me. Lord Mystery.” She burst into laughter again at his expression.
“That is the name my mother gave for this mysterious man to whom I compared all potential beaux. I would never let on who he was, only that I wouldn’t settle for anything less than this man.”
