by Darcy Burke
“For as long as it takes the Thetis to arrive and dispose of the cargo at a profit,” Miriam replied into Richard’s shirt. She pulled back. “And then, Richard, I wish to return home. My father and Mrs. Kent were right. I find I am not well-suited to adventures after all.”
Richard released her with reluctance. “Then we must make this one count. Do you have any requests?”
“Mrs. Kent and I would like to visit a castle.”
Richard chuckled. Miriam wished she didn’t enjoy the sound so much.
“Easily done,” he replied. “We are practically tripping over them here in England. I have requested a bath. Would you like one as well?”
“Yes, please.” An image of Richard naked and damp from a hip bath flashed through her mind. For the next few weeks, Miriam would have to resist using him for one of the adventures she still wanted—losing her innocence. Whatever happened here, she was determined not to return to America a maiden. Yet asking for the experience she wanted meant keeping Richard in her life permanently. What a terrible mess.
Richard kissed her on the forehead and whispered, “I shall see to it.” Then he took her palm and pressed something cold and hard into its center. “This is the key to our adjoining door. I leave it in your keeping. If you wish to use it, the choice is yours.”
Miriam gazed in wonder and horror at the piece of metal.
Her temptation made real.
With a soft click, Richard left her alone.
Chapter 22
In the morning he blinked at the sight of dark inlaid-wood furniture in a room dominated by red drapes as though the past two years had been an unending nightmare. They were pulled back from the window to let light filter in through sheer lace linings.
This was home. Expensive. Quiet. Well-mannered servants to attend to his every need.
“Does the room meet your requirements, sir?” asked Gregory, Edward’s valet. He carefully deposited Richard’s bags in the corner.
“It is most satisfactory, Gregory.” Richard gazed longingly at the bed with its crimson curtains. He’d spent the past two weeks in misery, staring out his porthole at an unforgiving sea in order to give Miriam as much space as possible on the cramped ship. Sleep had come in fits and starts. Fatigue kept his eyelids at half-mast.
“Your trunks will come up momentarily,” Gregory said. There wasn’t much for the man to unpack. Richard had given away all but the few outfits he deemed suitable for London, and most of them desperately needed a freshening. Gregory’s nose wrinkled upon opening his newly-arrived trunks. While he busied himself, Richard investigated the contents of the mirror-fronted wardrobe. Inside were his old clothes, from before his departure to America. He traced the fine wool and inhaled a trace of tobacco and the French soap he had favored when he could still afford such luxuries.
“There’s no rush to clean those,” Richard replied as he slipped into the warm water with a contented sigh. “My brother has thoughtfully kept my old clothing for me.” With a few adjustments they would clothe him in a better fashion than the meager items he’d brought from home.
America. Not home. This was home. Richard shaved off a week’s worth of stubble with quick, sharp motions. Gregory offered him a towel.
“You are much like the earl,” Gregory observed as Richard dried his face. Richard thought this an impertinent comment, not that he expected better manners from servants hired by his notoriously informal brother. Edward was very much like their father. No one had ever called him similar to his father or brother in any way. He was curious enough to ask, “In what way?”
“Independent. Shaving yourself, when I am here to assist you.”
Richard arched his eyebrow and toweled his hair dry. “I suppose I have become more so. You speak your mind freely, Gregory.”
“I suppose I am accustomed to it. The earl and his countess are highly tolerant, even encouraging.”
I bet they are, Richard thought darkly. But all he said was, “The green brocade waistcoat is a better match for the jacket.”
Gregory pulled a face. “That particular shade is several seasons out of date. I recommend the gray.”
“I want the green.” Richard had a fiancée to win back. Miriam deserved the dashing aristocrat he’d once been. He needed to show her who and what he was. That he loved her enough to be his best self.
“As you wish.” Gregory bent to assist him with his trousers, but Richard waved him away.
“I am accustomed to doing this much myself. I may need your assistance tying my cravat. It has been some time since I required one. The American style is less formal.” Particularly when one worked the docks on a casual basis. Gregory had cast a quick glance at Richard’s calloused hands but said nothing. With the falls of his trousers fastened, Richard reached for the shirt Gregory had laid out for him and caught sight of himself in the mirror. The man reflected somberly there looked more like Old Richard than ever. Louche. Arrogant.
He hated Old Richard. He had been a terrible son. He’d killed his father.
No amount of forgiveness from Edward could change those bare facts. His father and mother, being dead, were in no position to forgive him the many excessive trespasses of his youth. Worse, they had died knowing him as a selfish, grasping, feckless lout. There was nothing he could do to repair the damage.
All he knew was that his selfishness had led him to Lizzie and then to Miriam. He’d gone along with Lizzie’s plan with the best of intentions but there was no denying the sordid underpinnings of their beginning.
Once he’d kissed Miriam beneath the stars on a moonlit island, Richard had wanted her any way he could get her. He still did. But he would never win her trust if he remained in his room contemplating his wardrobe all day, so Richard stuck his arms into the sleeves of his shirt. The fabric pulled tight over his biceps. Surely, he wasn’t that much more muscled than he’d been a scant two years ago. But Gregory strained to close the shirt studs over his chest.
His valet had been right. The waistcoat was a mistake. The color clashed subtly with the undertones in his jacket. Worse, it bagged around his midsection. Richard regarded himself in the mirror with horrified resignation. He had never been fat, but he’d been soft in that way of English aristocrats who sneered at physical labor. His body had a different shape, now.
Richard discarded the offending garment and chose a neutral buff version instead. It was even worse. He tried another, deep blue with silver threads, that added two stone to his physique.
“Nothing fits,” Richard grumbled to no one. “I am the same person I was upon leaving England, confound it. Why is it all so different?”
In a fit of frustration, he tossed the waistcoats into an untidy pile. He stood back to glower at his handiwork.
It wasn’t true. His time away had changed him. A thrill of fear touched his neck like ice. Richard was different in ways he’d only begun to suspect.
No one had ever told him that leaving his homeland had meant he’d never be able to return to what he’d been.
“Would you and Mrs. Kent like to visit museums today?” Harper invited over breakfast the next morning. Miriam observed her sister-in-law pick at her food. Thus far, Lady Briarcliff’s stomach had disagreed with kippers—a perfectly reasonable stance which Miriam agreed with—coddled eggs, and hot chocolate. Rolls with preserves appeared to be the lone foodstuff she could manage, washed down with weak tea made tepid with a splash of milk. In spite of her discomfort, the lady was trying her best to be an amiable and helpful hostess.
“That would be delightful. Thank you.” Miriam glanced at her companion and received a quick nod of approval.
Yesterday, Miriam had arrived here expecting to despise everyone in this household as an extension of Richard. Either they must be vile, cruel people to have produced such a wounded schemer of a man, or Richard was a congenitally dishonest and jealous man. Both are bad. She can’t decide which is worse.
Yet Harper, as the countess insisted upon using her given name, h
ad proved to be gentle and courteous. The staff had been solicitous to Mrs. Kent, and even the imposing earl had been generous and kind. A hot bath, a good night of sleep in a comfortable bed, and a hearty breakfast—minus the flayed pickled herring—had done wonders to improve Miriam’s outlook. Still, nothing had fundamentally changed. She was married to a man whose sole aim had been to cheat her out of her fortune. Richard had been bad enough to be banished from his country by these lovely people.
Her father had been right. Naive fool that she was, Miriam had chosen exactly the wrong friend, and the worst English lord to fall in love with. She was disabused of that notion now, though. What must Harper think? It required no great insight to discern that she and Richard were not acting like the happy soon-to-be-wedded couple they were supposed to be.
“Won’t you accompany us?” asked Miriam, then gasped at her own thoughtlessness. “Oh, of course you wouldn’t. Unless you’d like to. I imagine fresh air is good for the child.”
“Or children,” Harper laughed, patting the lump of her belly. “I have been to the museums on countless occasions of late. Thank you for asking. I find myself restless. Were it not for the fact that ladies in my condition are not welcome in public, I would be delighted to join you. As it stands, however, I must catch up on correspondence. I don’t suppose you have any interest in attending a ball. The Season won’t be in full swing for several weeks, but I can accept invitations on your behalf. Viola will accompany you.”
Miriam glanced at Mrs. Kent. “It’s your decision, dear.”
“Then, yes. I would like that very much.”
“Better you than me,” Harper laughed. “If it were up to me, I’d have returned to the countryside weeks ago. London society holds little appeal for me. Once this litter of pups is out, I intend to return to Briarcliff as soon as I am able.”
Again, she patted her belly affectionately. The gesture gave Miriam a squirm of jealousy. It was a gross injustice that Lizzie was to have a baby when Miriam was never going to have the opportunity. Unless she could forgive Richard. But how could she, when she still had to pry the truth out of him?
Chapter 23
“Now that you and your bride settled in, I would like to discuss your future. Is now a good time?” Edward asked two days after their arrival. He had returned from a morning spent in Parliament and was fully dressed in a simple, severely tailored jacket. The sartorial tables had turned. Once, it had been Edward who stood before him in ill-fitting clothing. Now, it was Richard’s turn to feel out of place for his inferior garb.
“Certainly,” Richard agreed, but the hairs on the backs of his arms and neck rose. He was going stir-crazy cooped up here in the house, yet he hardly dared to leave. The temptation of his old life lay just beyond the limestone walls of the newly refurbished townhouse. There were old friends with whom to reacquaint himself. Richard was torn between hoping they would deign to speak to him and wishing they’d snub him when they inevitably met. Taking a single trip down memory lane might undermine his determination not to drink.
Then again, so might his boredom. Today, Miriam and Mrs. Kent had gone out to see a museum with Harper’s sister, Viola, and her lover, Lord Darby.
Cloistered in the hush of Edward’s study Richard was gripped by the need to taste the sweet burn of liquor. His foot jiggled involuntarily. His brother’s gaze caught on the misbehaving limb, and Richard quelled the motion.
“I have petitioned the King to create a viscountcy for you in recognition for our father and uncle’s services in the Wars,” Edward began.
Richard waited. His brother looked at him expectantly. He supposed this was Edward’s idea of an explanation. “Why me? I did nothing during to facilitate our victory. I was but a boy.”
“I feel I owe it to you.” Edward cleared his throat. “I apologize for the harshness with which I banned you from England.”
“I did rather deserve it,” responded Richard mildly. “The fire was an accident, I swear. I wish you to know I have stopped drinking.”
“Entirely?” asked his brother. His brows arched over those piercing blue eyes.
“Yes. While there is little I can do about my clumsiness, I am in better control of my habits now,” Richard confessed.
“Harper did comment upon how well you look.”
“Did she, now?” asked Richard.
“Believe it or not, my wife is the one who convinced me to pursue your peerage. It appears the king finds me an interesting specimen. We have visited court on a few occasions. He claimed to want a report on my time in the Amazon, though I believe King George was more interested in the lurid details of my kidnapping.”
“Did you oblige the man?”
“Indeed, I did.” Judging from Edward’s pained expression, he hadn’t enjoyed baring his soul to his sovereign. “Royal approval has gone a substantial distance toward polishing the Briarcliff title. It was worth the effort.”
It occurred to Richard that he had never asked his brother what had happened during the time he was lost. At first, he been sad and frightened for his brother. As much as they had fought, Richard had idolized Edward, too.
Yet even in his absence, Edward had occupied even more of everyone’s attention than had been true when he was present. In the frantic search for the young heir, no one had given an ounce of thought to Richard’s feelings. He’d allowed bitterness to seep into the marrow of his bones. As the spare, Richard had always come second, but as time stretched on with no word of Edward, Richard had come to relish being the heir presumptive. But his family had never thought Richard was anything but second-best. Nothing he did could measure up to his sainted brother. Edward had always loomed large over Richard’s life, but in his absence, he had become a legend.
Richard had been overjoyed when Edward returned to them with behaviors little better than an animal. See, father? Richard had tried to say through his rage and pain. I am the only one who is equal to managing the earldom.
“I never asked you what it was like,” Richard said slowly, feeling his way forward like a man in a long, dark passageway.
“My absence?” Edward asked mildly. Again, surprise cocked his eyebrows at a skeptical angle. Richard knew he did not deserve his brother’s trust. Yet he wanted it even more than he wanted the harsh kiss of brandy. “That is a story best told over weeks, not in an afternoon.”
“You should know that it started with our father. He was going to tell you before you stormed out of his rooms. After you left, I let the matter languish until the king’s invitation. It is common, in these highly uncommon circumstances, for a dispossessed heir to be titled by the king so as to avoid simmering familial conflicts. It is a courtesy and one requested by Father prior to his death. I should like to take you out to the countryside to show you the proposed estate,” Edward continued, sparing Richard a response. “However, with Harper so close to her time, that will have to wait. I would like to know whether you and Miriam have any plans to leave England. The King will not be best pleased if the recipient of his generosity returns to the country that routed us so thoroughly in 1776.”
Edward favored him with a faint smile. A strange warmth spread through Richard’s chest. He shifted in his seat, searching for words to describe the feeling.
Acceptance. Belonging. Forgiveness.
None of them seemed quite right. Richard cherished the fleeting ember’s slow fade.
“Yes, I am home for good,” Richard confirmed.
“Does your bride know that?” Edward asked.
No. Miriam explicitly wanted to go home; the sooner the better. Damn. He had promised to take her. Yet, surely Miriam would understand the importance of receiving a viscountcy.
Richard opened his mouth as if to confide in his brother, but the thoughts he spoke were not the ones from his heart. “I will require some lenience to travel for business. Miriam’s father is a partner with me in a business venture.”
“You? Dirty your hands with business?” Edward scoffed.
Ri
chard rubbed his calloused palms and thought of the hours he’d labored in Howard’s warehouse. “You don’t know the half of it. Can you believe I’ve worked on the docks?”
“No. You?” Edward laughed in his thick, weird rumble from damaged vocal cords.
“I’m afraid so. We’ve a third partner in this venture. His name is Howard. He has a concern running ships up-and-down the Atlantic seaboard. Howard wants to expand into international shipping. Despite the risks of regular crossings, we think there is money to be made in trade.”
Edward regarded him in silence. Richard didn’t melt beneath the intensity of his scrutiny. Confidence kept him steady. Richard had had no idea so many unfamiliar emotions could be felt in a single visit to his brother’s study.
“Interesting. I daresay your time abroad has been good for you.”
“Your instincts were correct. And Edward, if I may say so…” Richard swallowed. “You make a far better earl than I ever would have done.”
Edward waved his hand. “Nonsense. Earls are born, not made. Had you been born first you would have made an excellent earl. I’ve no doubt.”
Richard laughed. “Perhaps you would have been an explorer or a captain.”
“Or a doctor,” Edward chuckled. “Like my wife.”
Richard kept his mouth shut. For all the miracles Harper had worked on Edward, women had no business practicing medicine. But he didn’t need to voice his opinion to the man who adored her. Besides, his views on what is and is not appropriate for women’s occupations have softened since meeting his brilliant Miriam. Or capable of, since encountering Lizzie.
The two things he wanted most of his life were Miriam by his side and Lizzie out of it, forever. Both goals felt very far away. Possible, if he could only find the key to unlocking it.
