by Darcy Burke
Gulls clamored overhead as the New Hope pulled into London’s teeming wharves. Richard stood statue-still at the edge of the deck as his hometown gradually increased in size from a distant miniature to a sprawling city.
Christ, the place reeked. By contrast, New York and Boston had smelled positively pleasant. Richard dodged the occasional deckhand as hours passed and the ship tied neatly to the dock. Port officials boarded to inspect the contents of the ship and check the papers of those who bore them. Richard offered his brother’s letter as his mind struggled with the dockside dialect of his countrymen.
Passengers disembarked in clumps. Two here, a rush of eight or ten there, one ambling down the gangplank, whistling. Lizzie’s red hair glinted in the sun to Richard’s left, but she did not turn, and he refused to acknowledge her. She stared out over the city, doubtless plotting her takeover.
A twist of white linen flashed and disappeared in Lizzie’s hands. Richard observed her from the corner of his eye until she glanced briefly in his direction, then gathered her skirts and followed the other passengers onto the shore. An unsuspecting observer might mistake her for a weak and easy target in her elegant roller-printed cotton day dress and redingote. His forehead tightened into a frown.
“Plotting a reunion with your lady love?”
The bitterness in Miriam’s tone startled Richard out of his torpor. The arrival of the woman he’d been waiting for made his heart skip. His throat closed around the words he wanted most to say.
“More like waiting for a viper to strike,” was all Richard muttered. He cleared his throat. “Miriam. About what Lizzie said. It isn’t true. Lizzie had her intentions, but they were never mine.”
“I suppose Lizzie impregnated herself,” Miriam responded tartly. “I hear women have a habit of that, particularly when it’s most inconvenient for men.”
Richard shot Miriam a sidelong glance. She had every right to be angry with him. Guilt nagged him. “I never made a secret of her presence in my life. I’ll be the first to acknowledge my lack of gentlemanly virtue, Miri. Spare me the accusation of dishonesty.”
“You courted me under false pretenses,” Miriam shot back.
Richard shook his head, wishing he still had the liberty to take her into his arms and kiss the hurt away. “I didn’t. I told you exactly what I was. Disgraced. A liar. Untrustworthy. I confessed to killing my own father, Miriam. I would have told you about Lizzie’s scheme if she hadn’t been your bosom friend. Would you have believed me if I had dared to tell you the truth about your dearest acquaintance?”
He took a breath. Miriam stared out over the bustling docks, unwilling to meet his gaze.
“I thought not. The only solution I could think of was to take you away from her. I cannot fathom what drives Lizzie. All I care about, Miriam, is ensuring she stays away from you, and protecting my wife,” Richard said softly.
Miriam stared at him now; with horror or awe he couldn’t decide. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am, Miri.” Richard’s pent-up thoughts nearly overflowed and tumbled out of his mouth in an embarrassing torrent. He bit his lower lip until the urge to blurt out his feeling abated. “Whether or not anything comes of the title my brother has dangled before me, I will make Howard’s trans-oceanic import business into a wild success. I won’t stop until Lizzie is out of our lives forever.” He swallowed. “I won’t stop until every promise I made you comes true.”
Miriam snorted delicately. She thought he couldn’t do it. She thought he was nothing but a worthless liar. Her unspoken challenge reverberated in his soul.
“You’ll see. In the meantime, I am holding you to your end of this deal, Miriam Northcote.” Richard spoke softly, with all the confidence of a lord in his homeland.
“What deal?” Miriam demanded breathlessly. Richard took a step closer. She did not step backward. Toe to toe, they regarded one another as enemies, as equal combatants.
“Our deal with Livingston and Howard. Hate me all you wish, but don’t hurt their investments to spite me.” Did Miriam look crestfallen? He wanted to believe it so badly. “Your father and Mrs. Kent are wrong about you.”
“In what way?” she demanded softly.
“You are not frail. Your strength is that of a reed swaying in the wind, but you’ll stand tall long after the wind had felled the oak,” Richard replied. How was he the only one who could see it?
Again, Miriam scoffed. “I was weak enough to be taken in by my only friend and my only suitor. Do go on about my strength.”
“You married me,” Richard rasped. “That leap of faith required courage. If you turn around and go back to New York after scarcely touching your feet on British soil, you will return a scandal and a laughingstock. You Americans are especially prickly when it comes to pride.”
“My folly will certainly be outweighed by Lizzie’s deception.”
Richard chuckled bleakly, cutting her off. “Lizzie is already a walking scandal whom everyone fears to cross. She has nothing to lose. You, however, possessed a sterling reputation until I stole your heart. If you go back now, alone…”
He trailed off.
“What do you want from me?” Miriam demanded, rough with anger.
“Give me a chance to court you again before you turn tail and go home. In private, with no one watching. I want nothing more than to go back to that beach where we first met and show you the truth of my heart. Since we are here, the beach is out of the question.”
“I gave you that chance. I invited you to take it, over and over, until I was half-convinced that I was so undesirable that I must content myself with the scraps of your affection.” Miriam’s bodice rose and fell. Richard’s stomach twisted.
“I wish I’d never met you at all,” Miriam whispered. A thick coil of rope landed at her feet and forced her backward two steps. Closer to him. A seaman in dire need of a bath cast them a glare. Richard held the man’s gaze until he muscled past them.
“I should find Mrs. Kent and a buggy to the nearest hotel,” she said when he had passed them by.
“Miriam,” Richard whispered. “Don’t turn tail and run now. I told you exactly what I was from the first night we danced together. For all my faults—and they are numerous—I have never outright lied to you. Failed to tell you things you should have known, yes. All I wanted was to get you away from Lizzie and her schemes. Please, come and stay with my brother and sister-in-law. I can guarantee that you will be more comfortable there than you would be in any hotel. It will give me peace of mind to know that you are safe.”
Seconds ticked by. Gulls mocked his plea from the sky above.
Miriam swallowed. The muscles in her slender pale throat worked. “What else?”
“Allow me to court you again. I won’t press you to formalize our marriage. You must ask for that with the full knowledge of who I am and what I can give you. In the meantime, I will show you that everything we feel for one another has been true all along. Don’t let Lizzie poison what we have.” Richard had never wanted anything so badly as he wanted Miriam’s forgiveness. Not an earldom. Not a title. Somehow, she had become the only thing that mattered. If he could not earn her, he truly did not deserve to live. There would be no passage back to America.
Fine. It wasn’t his home, anyway.
“You mean, when I prove myself foolish enough to trust your honeyed words again,” Miriam sniffed. Tears threatened. His hand rose to push them away. Miriam flinched. Richard dropped his hand as if it had been burned. The passengers of the ship, impatient with their extended conversation, jostled past them. Richard and Miriam stood apart on the crowded deck, poised on the last remaining edge between their past and their future. When the din began to ebb, Miriam spoke.
“Richard, whatever the truth of your relationship with Lizzie, I no longer care. We didn’t even make land before I found out that the only thing you valued about me was my father’s bank account. I do not want you to court me. I will stay long enough to see the Thetis come in and us t
o sell our wares. Then, I shall return to New York with Mrs. Kent.” Miriam raised her chin to keep it from trembling.
Richard’s jaw tightened. She would never forgive him this humiliation. He bowed stiffly. “Whatever assistance you require I shall provide. My brother’s home remains open to you and your companion. I shall not burden you with my presence any more than necessary.”
He turned on his heel and disappeared into the throng.
“Shall we go?” asked Mrs. Kent quietly. She had, of course, witnessed the entire scene, though she had tactfully remained at a distance. Miriam felt her cheeks flare. It was so embarrassing to have one’s private moments play out before one’s nurse. Before anyone. Still, there was a comfort to the fact that she was mostly amongst strangers. There was no one to care about one arrogant lord and the stupid woman who couldn’t quite stop longing for him. Even now, Miriam would have welcomed his touch.
Miriam gazed out at the dark city and swallowed. Where to even begin?
“Yes, of course.” Miriam gathered her wits and descended the gangplank holding fast to Mrs. Kent’s arm. At the bottom they met Lizzie, who was pointing to a heavy trunk and attempting to get a larger lad to help her lift it, without success. An incongruously large and shining carriage stood at the roadside, surrounded by beggar children. A footman held them at bay. Another footman opened the door as she approached. Miriam was startled to see her many trunks loaded onto the top of the coach.
“My lady.” The footman bowed.
Mrs. Kent glanced up at her sidelong. “Unless you have a better plan, I suppose we ought to at least meet Mr. Northcote’s family. We don’t need to stay if they’re half as terrible as he is.”
“I thought you liked him?” Miriam asked acerbically.
“Not exactly. I believe he likes you.” Mrs. Kent sighed. “Do you have a better plan?”
“I don’t.” Despite their depressing situation, Miriam could not help but feel the tiniest degree of satisfaction as she placed her fingertips lightly in the footman’s hand and stepped carefully into the elegant coach. Mrs. Kent quickly settled herself on the leather squabs beside her.
If she stayed, she could have this. She might be Lady Northcote, or these peculiar Englishmen may have another name in store for her. If you want to experience the world, you cannot wait for it to come to you. As though seizing opportunity had worked out well for her to this point.
The carriage door slammed open and shut. Richard clambered in and took the opposite seat.
“You’re coming with us?” Miriam gasped.
“It’s my brother’s house, after all. And as far as anyone knows, you are still my bride. If you choose to tell them differently, that is your decision.” Richard cocked his head at an angle, challenging Miriam to respond. She had made him angry.
Good.
Miriam felt as though a butterfly had been set loose in her stomach, its wings scratching and tickling her insides. She had meant what she had said on the boat, and again when they’d made landfall. She would never marry a man who had only courted her for her fortune. The fact that he had done so to support his lover and his illegitimate child was simply disgusting. Unforgivable. If only she could force herself to stop feeling this nervous, wistful attraction.
Already, her sadness had melted into anger with her old friend. Lizzie had used him just as thoroughly as she had used Miriam. Richard had so many more options than she had ever dreamed of. Yet he, too, had experienced loss. Lizzie’s peculiar gift was to find people’s weakest spots and exploit them ruthlessly.
“What is this we’re passing, out the left side?” Mrs. Kent asked, interrupting the awkward silence.
“That is the Regent’s Canal Dock. It was constructed only a few years ago but has fared miserably.”
“Is that where the Thetis is due to dock?” asked Miriam.
After all, they were still business partners.
“No. We have chosen Wapping as our destination on account of the established warehouses there,” Richard replied.
From Canary Warf to Marylebone was easily an hour’s drive. London was dirtier, damper, and darker than New York. Narrow city streets sprawled in every direction, the ramshackle buildings uniform in their ugly, squat height. Things began to improve as they moved away from the dockyards. The coach swayed over rough cobblestone and gave her a sour stomach. Streets widened. Pedestrians thinned. With a few more turns the city became almost beautiful as its terrain shifted to neighborhoods with tidy limestone façade row houses.
This might have been her home. It still could be. All it would cost her was her pride—and every cent of the money she had earned despite Mr. Featherstone’s attempt at guidance.
Richard had nothing but gratitude for her ability with numbers, Miriam mused, with grudging respect for the man she had married. Miriam sighed a little gust of frustration. She was the one who had made it possible to return with his head high. If he had not succeeded in landing an heiress, he would still be lolling about with Lizzie in New York.
Wouldn’t he?
“There’s the new St Marylebone Parish Church. It was only finished a few years ago, in 1817.” Richard craned his neck to peer out the window. “Not long before I left. I should like to see the interior again. You might consider joining me for an excursion, if your schedule permits.”
An invitation, not a command. Mrs. Kent made a noncommittal sound. Miriam brushed back the curtain to peer out at the graceful white spire. “It’s pretty.”
Miriam let the curtain fall. After a few more turns Miriam felt the carriage slow.
“I am surprised they took lodgings here after the fire,” Richard commented.
“Why?” she asked.
“You haven’t met my brother. He is even more disinclined toward city life than Livingston Walsh. You wondered why I hardly reacted when your father came stomping out in a lumberjack’s suspenders and shirtsleeves. I doubt it is possible to surprise me anymore after the way my brother returned to London.”
They shared an awkward chuckle. Their gazes slid past one another as if crossing them might immolate the vehicle. Mrs. Kent peered eagerly out the window. Their collective fatigue at being cooped up in small spaces temporarily overrode the discomfort of being trapped in the coach.
“How so?” asked Miriam with great reluctance. She knew so little about this man to whom she’d promised her life. To her surprise, Richard was eager to discuss his brother.
“The first time I saw my brother after fifteen years, he was locked in a cage. He was naked but for a pair of buckskin breeches which were shredded to the mid-thigh and held up with a rotted piece of sailor’s rope,” Richard almost chuckled at the memory, but seemed to catch himself.
“Dear lord,” gasped Mrs. Kent. “Who would treat another human being that way?”
“Many people, madam.” Richard’s gaze was hooded. “The sailors on the ship did not regard my brother as truly human, you see. He had transformed into something else. Someone so foreign that he had relinquished all claim to humanity.”
A shadow fell over his face.
“I imagine he could only improve with time and guidance,” Miriam offered gently.
Richard laughed humorlessly. “I suppose he has improved. I wouldn’t know. He sent me away after...” He broke off and refused to meet her gaze. “After the fire.” Richard sat back in his seat, clearly uneasy. Miriam had to fight the impulse to reach over and touch his hand. She had imagined comforting him as Richard reunited with his estranged family. Instead, they were arriving as enemies.
Miriam squelched her sadness. A mean little part of her whispered, Let him squirm. If Richard had behaved as selfishly with them the way he had been toward her, he deserved to feel every bit of his reckoning.
Her musings left Miriam no time to decide what her own reaction to the Earl of Briarcliff and his wife should be. Before she had a chance to consider what she should do or say, the coach halted.
“We’re here,” Richard said with humor he tran
sparently did not feel. It was written into the slope of his shoulders and the tense line of his jaw.
I don’t want to fight you, Miriam thought. He had been a stranger in her land. Now, the tables were turned, and she was a stranger in his. At Mrs. Kent’s urging she was in motion, scrambling toward the door of the carriage. The footman handed her down to solid earth. It was all Miriam could do not to weep.
Chapter 20
SEPTEMBER
Richard let the footman hand down his wife, and Mrs. Kent behind her. The familiar face of his father’s butler opened the front doorway to the new Briarcliff townhome with a ceremonious bow. A small army of servants appeared to remove their trunks and boxes from the coach. Any fears Richard had harbored about his brother’s unconventional approach to the earldom instantly dissolved. Given his elder brother’s wild behavior Richard had half-expected the door to be answered by a troupe of monkeys.
“You must excuse Lord Briarcliff’s absence. We did not know the precise timing of your arrival. Lady Briarcliff shall receive you in the courtyard.” He glanced sideways at her and covered her gloved hand with his. “This way.” The butler led them through an airy foyer and down a spacious hallway with marble floors. They passed through a sitting room with large French doors opening out to a welcoming patio. Beyond the patio was a large grassy yard. Strange growling sounds emanated from this patch of grass surrounded by hedgerows for privacy.
“What on earth?” Miriam murmured.
“I did warn you that my brother is... eccentric.”
“Yes. You did. This is so like my house in New York I can scarcely believe it.”
Richard drank in the sight of Miriam’s wonder as they stepped onto the slate flagstones. A woman with dark blonde hair in a voluminous print gown attempted to leverage out of a chair. “Please catch Ben and bring him over,” she asked.
The butler gently placed one arm beneath the struggling woman’s elbow. “Welcome,” she said a bit breathlessly. “Forgive me for not meeting you at the door. It is rather difficult for me to get about these days. I am due within the next few weeks. The doctor believes it will be twins. Myself, I am certain of it. If not triplets.”
