by Darcy Burke
Chapter 24
Miriam struggled to lock her bedroom door. The heavy key stuck in the wrought iron.
When it finally clicked, she checked it and discovered the latch to her room opened easily. With a sigh, she tried again. The slam of a door down the hallway made her start.
“Good afternoon, Miri,” Richard spoke stiffly, but she read in his gaze a hunger that made her feel like a mouse staring down a cat. “Did you enjoy your visit to the British Museum?”
“Yes,” she replied as she took in the sight of him. This man was foreign to her. He had changed into clothing that spoke of immense wealth, greater than anything her father possessed. She had been in this country for a scant few days and already she felt embarrassed of her origins. Her clothing, made new for the journey, now embarrassed her with its lack of sophistication. Richard had been the one person besides Mrs. Kent who dressed like her. But now he looked as fine as the earl. Attractive in a new and imposing way. Gone was the soulful lord banished from his homeland. In his place was a man with a quietly commanding presence.
A flutter of her betraying heart made Miriam take a step back. How could she still want him? She doesn’t even know him.
The teeth of her room key bit into her palm.
“We ought to begin making arrangements for the arrival of the Thetis. She could come into port any day.” Richard moved closer. Miriam couldn’t decide whether she was standing her ground or frozen in fear. Her heart hammered. A cold sweat curled the hairs on the back of her neck. Hurt longing churned her stomach like a storm at sea.
“When did you intend to tell me about Lizzie, Richard?” she demanded as he loomed over her. Miriam swallowed past the lump in her throat. You wanted the freedom to make your own choices. Now you have and must live with the consequences. “Before we were married? After? Never?”
His silence spoke volumes.
“Never. You’d have let me go on loving you knowing you couldn’t reciprocate. You’d have let me die the slow death of discovering by inches that I had been a fool all along.” Miriam’s chin trembled.
His hand lifted to her cheek. Miriam flinched when his fingertips brushed her cheek.
Richard dropped his hand instantly. “A word from you to my brother will stop me from ever touching you again. If that’s what you truly want.”
“I need help with locking my door,” she whispered.
Richard gazed at her sidelong. He caught her hand and plucked the key to her bedroom door from her palm. Caught in a storm of conflicting emotions, Miriam relinquished it without argument.
“I will do whatever it takes to erase the wariness I see in your eyes when you look at me.,” he murmured. “I will move mountains to regain your trust. I promise to win you again, no matter how long it takes. I hurt you in the deepest way possible. I am finished causing you pain, Miriam. I promise to spend the rest of my life giving you nothing but pleasure. If you will allow me.”
Richard’s voice had fallen to a whisper. Miriam’s pulse raced as he brushed his lips over the back of her hand. He reached past her to click the lock into place. He held the metal out. Miriam plucked it from his grasp with shaking fingers.
“Am I interrupting?” asked Mrs. Kent with one eyebrow raised. Miriam whirled away from her husband and found disappointment in the lady’s eyes. Shame swept away her feelings of attraction and left cobwebs of confusion in their wake.
“Not at all,” Miriam said with what little calm she could muster. She buried her fists in her skirt and cast Richard a narrow glare of reproach. “He was assisting me with my lock. It sticks.”
“If you’ve finished distressing—I mean, assisting, Miriam.” Mrs. Kent raised her chin and took her charge by the arm.
“We were discussing our plans to go to the wharves and see if there is any news of the Thetis tomorrow,” Richard lied smoothly. “Despite our personal difficulties, Miriam and I have an obligation to see the business thrive.”
“We were?” Miriam asked her deceitful spouse. A moment ago, she had been yearning for her husband’s touch. But then he’d gone and ruined it with an outright fabrication.
“We started to,” Richard replied. “Before I assisted you with your lock.”
To Miriam’s shock, he was correct. She’d been thrown so off-kilter by his appearance that she’d nearly forgotten his original purpose in stopping her. Richard was telling the truth.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible.” Mrs. Kent urged Miriam toward the stairs as if she were a naughty child to be punished. “We’ve planned a trip to Windsor Castle.”
Mrs. Kent sped up. Miriam hoped she wouldn’t trip and fall down the stairs. Did she think she could outrun Richard in his own brother’s home? Then she remembered that this house was as unfamiliar to Richard as it was to her. The original had burned down.
“Windsor shall have to wait,” Richard said. Mrs. Kent stopped short, clearly upset at being ordered to change her plans.
“Can’t you go alone?” Miriam whirled to face him. A growing part of her wanted to explore this new and cacophonous world, but she needed Mrs. Kent with her to keep her safe from an asthma attack.
“I need you,” Richard said simply, his gaze never wavering from her face. Miriam’s cheeks heated.
“Fine words,” she snapped.
“I need your expertise, Miri. No one is going to purchase wares from a spoiled aristocrat with no experience in trade.”
Miriam was silent. He did need her. It had been his promise to her father that she would oversee the operations on the English side. How annoying that this was the one promise Richard apparently intended to keep.
“It’s true, Mrs. Kent. We cannot abandon Richard to muddle through the specifics of business on his own.” Miriam swallowed. Yet, she’d been given this opportunity to Howard and Livingston to see how far she could stretch her wings. It wasn’t right to quit now. Besides, going home now meant telling her father that he’d been right about Richard all along. He was nothing but a selfish, spoiled aristocrat who would break her heart without a moment’s regret.
Yet when she looked at Richard, all she found was regret in his eyes. It was in the resigned set of his shoulders. She heard it in the stiff way he’d spoken with her, as if he were fearful of saying the wrong thing and wounding her anew.
“How long do you propose to remain here?” asked Mrs. Kent, assessing the new landscape with pinched displeasure.
“For as long as it takes. At least until the first shipment comes in and we can sell the commodities for a profit.”
“And then we go home?” asked her companion through pursed lips.
“Yes. Absolutely.” Miriam risked a glance at Richard. He stood very still, like a shadow. She couldn’t afford to let her heart soften toward him, no matter how badly it wanted to. This man had taken her trust and smashed it like a china plate on a stone floor. The stab of pain she experienced upon reliving the matter brought Miriam back to her senses.
Mrs. Kent sighed.
“We shall stay long enough to establish the business. That’s all,” Miriam promised reassuringly. What if there was a way to retain her hard-won freedom without losing her dignity?
“Thank you.” Richard’s simple words conveyed an ocean of relief.
“You are not to attempt to charm your way back into Miriam’s good graces,” Mrs. Kent ordered. “I overheard that ridiculous vow you made to Miriam. We know what you’re after, now. Money is all you care about. We shall help you obtain it honestly, then set sail for home.”
“If that is what you wish, I will not stop you.” Richard bowed, a courtly bend at the waist. Here, it was neither ridiculous nor excessive. It made her feel as if the weight and import of Richard’s family and country’s history watched her with judgmental gazes. What must it have been like to grow up under the crushing sternness of all this ancestry?
Miriam started into motion. Richard’s palm landed on the small of her back, jolting her with a surge of heat from his touch.
“I mean it, Miriam. If you want to go, I will not stop you. But think how you might like to be a viscountess. If my brother can sway the king, I am to be offered a title.” He half-grinned, a little bashfully.
He wanted this title. Yet, to accept it likely meant that he would have obligations to keep him in England, which meant Miriam would not see her father again for a long time.
“There you are.” The earl swung into the foyer at the bottom of the stairwell with an easy lope. His strange voice, like a hoarse growl, raised the hairs on Miriam’s arms. “We were about to request your presence for supper. Given your interests in sightseeing, Mrs. Kent, the prospect of a social calendar reviving, and my brother’s newfound business interests, we ought to spend the evening planning the next several weeks. I presume he has told you the good news.”
“Yes, just now,” Miriam replied. The words tasted like ash. A title meant nothing to her.
“Thank you, your lordship. Is Richard’s receipt of a viscountcy a certainty?” Miriam licked her lips. Behind her, Mrs. Kent coughed.
“It is not. Kings are notably fickle, and King George IV more than most. I have a feeling he will enjoy Richard’s company, however, if they have a chance to meet.” Edward clapped his large hands together. “Shall we go in?”
Miriam permitted her husband to take her by the elbow and steer her toward the dining room. His touch sent heat radiating outward. Miriam was acutely aware of his body but a few inches from hers. If only there was a way to retain her hard-won freedom without giving herself over to Richard completely.
Chapter 25
Mrs. Kent lost her bid to see Windsor Castle. The next morning, the trio bundled into the too-warm coach and made their way back down to the wharves seeking news of their ship. Five weeks had passed since the Thetis had departed New York. They had planned for a five-to-six-week journey. Considering their own rapid journey, Richard had fully expected to find her bobbing next to the wharf.
Mrs. Kent was not the only one to suffer disappointment that morning.
Richard exchanged a glance with Miriam as they asked after newly arrived ships. Although he tried to keep the women secure, the place was no more suitable to gently raised ladies than the piers in London. They endured as many taunts and catcalls as they could stand before retreating to the safety of the coach. Miriam collapsed against the squabs. A faint, familiar wheeze haunted the edges of her voice when she spoke. “While we are here, oughtn’t we investigate warehouses?”
“Can you manage it?” he asked, regarding her with concern.
She nodded. Mrs. Kent busied herself with the kit, while Richard opened the windows to let in fresher air. He gave a list of addresses to the driver.
“Take us to the nearest one.” It was as good as any a place to begin. By the time they arrived a few short minutes later, Miriam’s breathing had mostly returned to normal. He was learning to recognize when an attack was getting out of hand, and how to manage the more common bouts of wheezing and coughing she suffered.
They found the first storehouse packed to the rafters. “Are you certain this is the right place?” Miriam asked doubtfully. He wanted to reassure her but couldn’t. His own suspicion had pricked up in unison.
“No.”
This warehouse was a tinderbox waiting to go up in flames. “Good afternoon?” she called into the stuffy darkness. There was no response.
“So much for a secure storehouse. We appear to be alone.”
“Perhaps we should try another tactic,” Miriam suggested. “We can continue looking into warehouse space. But wouldn’t it be better if we never had to store them at all?”
“How do you mean?” Richard asked. The tightness in his chest eased. He was supposed to be the local expert, but he had never rented warehouse space before. Anything to get him out of needing to take this step was welcome. Especially if it meant keeping Miriam by his side for a bit longer.
“What if we could sell the goods even before they arrive?” Her eyes sparkled. “Offload the boat, put the crates onto a wagon and take them directly to the buyers. It could work.”
Richard found himself nodding agreement. “Sensible. Very sensible.” He was so relieved to escape the warehouse that he leaned in to buss her on the cheek. Startled, Miriam squeezed his hand. The small gesture made his heart swell with hope.
“We represent a shipping company from New York,” Richard said for what felt like the millionth time. To Mrs. Kent’s consternation the visit to Windsor had been delayed yet again. “We import tobacco, cotton, and fine imported goods from America. While we establish our presence here, we are offering excellent prices.”
Howard’s warning echoed in Richard’s mind. Not too excellent.
“You’re English,” replied the prospective buyer with confusion.
“Yes, that is fact.” Richard heaved an inward sigh. He and Miriam had traipsed through seeking a distributor of goods. They might have had more success if the Thetis had come into harbor, but without actual goods or duties clearance, they might as well be selling clouds instead of cotton.
“If you’re English,” the merchant asked with more puzzlement than insult, “why do you work for an American?”
He glanced sidelong and met Miriam’s brief flicker attention. It was enough for Richard to see the worry in her. “He is the partner in this venture,” Miriam interjected. “I am Mr. Northcote’s…” Miriam trailed off. “Wife.”
Hearing Miriam call herself his wife sent a shiver up his spine.
“Oh,” the shopkeeper replied. “I see.”
Clearly, the man did not. Not everyone was born with the same intellectual gifts, of course, but Richard briefly wondered how the shop stayed in business with a man this thick at its helm. The answer appeared before the thought finished flickering through his mind.
“What are you…” A large-hipped, big-bosomed woman bustled into the front room.
“My wife,” the man said. “She usually makes the orders.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs.…” Miriam trailed off.
“Smith.”
“Mrs. Smith,” Miriam started, “We represent a new export concern operating out of New York. We’ve a shipment of tobacco, cotton, and other fine goods arriving any day. As we’re working to establish ourselves in London, we are prepared to offer substantial discounts on our goods if you were to purchase ahead of their imminent arrival.”
Mrs. Smith cocked her head. Hair a mousy brown streaked with gray pinned up in a topknot. “But you haven’t any goods to sell us now.”
“They are on their way,” Richard said reassuringly.
“Yet as of now, you have nothing,” the lady sniffed. She turned her back to them and began rearranging jars on the shelves behind the counter. “Assuming your shipment arrives and clears the exchequer, you’ll find the discount less inviting, I wager. How am I to know you won’t break our bargain and sell to the highest bidder?”
Mrs. Smith cast a hard look at the man who had entertained their pitch for a quarter-hour, to no avail. Miriam nodded to the door and mouthed; Let’s go.
Outside, Richard exhaled his frustration. “Between the overpriced warehouse and the lack of interest from buyers, it’s beginning to seem as if this venture is doomed.”
No wonder. If he was involved, the situation was bound to go south. Richard kept an achingly small distance between him and Miriam. Or, perhaps, she kept her distance from him.
“If making money were easy, everyone would attempt it,” Miriam replied briskly. Yet her shoulders sagged as the warm sun beat down from above. Suddenly, she halted and grabbed him by the arm. “Do you see that?”
“What about it?” Richard echoed, testily, staring at a billboard that read What About Gliddon’s? He could not fail at this. Howard depended upon him. Livingston, his almost-father-in-law depended upon him. Richard needed this shipping venture to work if he wanted to avoid hating the man he saw in the mirror each morning. If it failed, he might as well go back to drinking and rutting his way th
rough life. Richard mentally batted away despair. He hadn’t expected selling quality goods to be this hard, but he would persevere.
“This handbill says the coffee house opened in February. Are they popular?” Miriam asked.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t here in February,” Richard reminded his wife in name only. Miriam cast him an exasperated sidelong glance. Richard suppressed his frustration and examined the old poster pasted to the side of the Smith’s storefront. It read, Visit Gliddon’s Cigar Divan. Offering Fine Tobacco in 42 King Street beginning 8 February, 1825. “Ah. I see what you’re getting at, Miri. After the Peninsular Wars, cigars have become a popular vice.”
“Have you ever tried them?” Miriam asked softly, staring at the poster.
“Of course. However, when my income declined abruptly, I decided I didn’t care enough for tobacco to prioritize wasting money on it.”
“Very wise,” Miriam observed with cautious approval. A swirl of warmth that had nothing to do with the early September afternoon swirled through him. Yet Miriam’s stiff spine told him not to touch. She continued to keep a physical distance between them that invited no familiar touches. The brief squeeze of his hand had not been repeated. Richard missed Miriam’s teasing invitations to kiss her. He yearned for the light brushes of her hand against his, tiny temptations that he’d refused to indulge when he had the chance.
He was ever and always the greatest of fools.
“Shall we try them?” he asked through a throat choked with regret. He raised his hand to her elbow. Miriam turned away on her heel.
“We must offload our tobacco shipment one way or another,” she replied briskly, signaling to an exasperated Mrs. Kent to follow her back to the carriage.
“We could light it on fire,” Richard observed acerbically to cover his disappointment.
“How would that help?” Miriam tossed over her shoulder. “We will have had to pay wages to the captain and the crew. Howard will have lost the use of his best ship for months. No, Richard, we must see this through. My idea of bypassing the warehouses hasn’t worked out. Yet the city is practically aflame with tobacco smoke. I have seen children smoking from these little pipes.” She marched down the busy street.
