by Darcy Burke
“Can I put my mouth on you…kiss you the way you did to me?” she asked, shyly.
Richard groaned. She was trying to kill him. It was all right though. This was a far better death than he’d ever deserved. “Go ahead.”
Miriam shifted back and examined his member with consternation. Experimentally she licked the tip. “Like that?” she asked.
“Precisely like that,” Richard grunted. Miriam continued her experiment by sucking the tip into her mouth. His fingers slid through the curls that spilled over his thighs as he gritted his teeth to hold back his pleasure. “Stop. Miriam. If you don’t wish to delay the main event, you must stop that now.”
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The sight of his wife’s unleashed carnal instincts made molten desire course through him. He positioned her over his cock and held it steady while she glided down over him.
“I feel so full,” she gasped. “As if I were empty and didn’t know it but ached for this unknown pleasure.”
Miriam tilted her hips. Richard strained to hold back.
“Feel the rhythm, Miri. Your body already knows what to do. Listen to it.”
She found the pace and he let her take the lead for a while. When she was close to the edge but unable to go over it, Richard found her hooded pearl and worried it with his fingers. Miriam bucked as pleasure burst through her again. Richard gripped her hips and thrust deep inside her until the tremors subsided. In the aftermath, he tucked her close against his side and whispered, “You are mine now. Forever.”
Chapter 29
“Richard, might I have a private word with you before you head to the wharves?” Edward asked the next morning after breakfast. He was dressed as if for parliament.
“Of course.” Dutifully, Richard followed his brother into the dark, immaculately tidy study. He thought of Howard’s chaotic, haphazard papers and shook his head. The two were night and day. Yet there were similarities as well. The singularity of their personalities, for example. Their physical impressiveness. He wondered if one day they might meet. It was not impossible.
“Has there been any news of your ship?” Edward asked.
“No. We are going to ask around today.” At six weeks, the Thetis’s voyage was edging into worrisome territory. No matter how he knew intellectually that the crossing could take weeks, their own speedy trip cast each passing day into sharp relief.
“I may be able to spare you the effort,” Edward said cryptically. He did not seat himself behind the desk. That would have been too reminiscent of the time when he’d forced Richard into going away. Instead, Richard handed him a thick vellum letter sealed in livid red wax. On one side, a unicorn. On the other, a lion. At the top, a crown.
Richard stared at the document uncomprehending. Then at his brother.
“Is this…”
“Open it and find out,” Edward smirked.
He cracked the seal and unfolded the luxurious paper. Amid a profusion of flourishes at the top, Richard found his name. Lord Richard Northcote, Viscount.
He scanned the document in disbelief. “This cannot be true.”
“I’m afraid it is. Congratulations.”
“It comes with an allowance and land. An estate. Rather a bother that it is only a lifetime peerage, though.” Richard’s face stretched into a radiant beam of happiness.
“You weren’t asked for your opinion,” Edward chuckled. “It required a great deal of delicate negotiations to achieve this. The king was eager to see his bill passed. Yesterday, I delivered the votes he needed. George was in an appreciative mood, apparently.”
“As am I.” Richard embraced his brother. Even after several years of luxury it was difficult to get his arms around Edward’s shoulders.
“Before you celebrate, you should also see this.” Edward disengaged and produced a small cut-out from the morning’s newspaper.
The joy drained out of Richard as he scanned the news. “No,” he whispered, stricken. “It cannot be.”
“I am afraid so. The Thetis was spied sinking after a storm just off the coast of France.
Richard swayed on his feet as he absorbed the magnitude of the loss. “Had we docked in Bournemouth or Liverpool this would not have happened.” Richard gazed at the two papers which had thrown his entire life off-course in the span of a morning. His body iced cold. Howard’s future was lost. Livingston’s trust in him would be irrevocably shattered. All because he had failed to come through.
Of all the odd twists and turns his life had taken, this had to be the strangest of all. The title he had always dreamed of possessing was nothing more than a piece of paper. A gift. Unearned.
He’d needed to prove himself worthy of something, of anything.
But he was a failure again.
“You took a risk. The Channel can be a difficult passage for captains who have never navigated it before. I am very sorry it turned out this way. For the loss of the sailors especially.” Edward clapped one hand on Richard’s shoulder. “At least you have the title.”
“I cannot accept it,” Richard said miserably. “I am unworthy of your efforts and your generosity,” he said. “I shall write to the king and decline the boon.”
Edward stared at him. “Now I know you aren’t all right. It’s a ship. I realize it has importance and great value to you, but it is a boat full of replaceable goods. You cannot refuse a gift from the king simply because you are disappointed with your luck.”
Richard knew his brother spoke reason. He was beyond reason, in agony as guilt and shame whirled through him, more potent than ever before. It sickened him to acknowledge how much luck he had squandered in his life—and here he was doing it again.
But this time, it was his choice.
“I cannot accept a viscountcy which I do not merit.” He heaved in air so quickly it made his lungs hurt. “I must send Miriam home. Pack her belongings. I promised to protect her and keep her safe from me.” He swallowed. “I promised her adventures. I can’t give that to her anymore. Therefore, I must let her go.”
“You can’t give up everything simply because a boat didn’t arrive,” Edward argued.
Richard turned on his heel and left his brother alone in his astonishment.
Two days later, Miriam gazed up at her frustrating, hellbent husband the way she had done on the beach months before, with her heart in her eyes. It was her only hope of making him listen.
“Richard. I’m not leaving,” she argued.
Ever since the news of the Thetis had come in, he’d been utterly impossible. Even when they had first met, Miriam had never seen the frantic hollowness that burned in his brown eyes like hellfire.
“Yes, you are,” he insisted. “You must get on that ship and go back to your father, where you can be safe. I shall follow you in a few weeks. Once I return to New York, I will request an annulment.” Richard cupped her face and drank in the sight of her. Her gray eyes were still wide, but wiser now. He had taken her innocence, if not in body then in spirit. He had crumpled the fresh bloom of her first love. He would never be free of his guilt, but he could stay in London until he repaid Howard and Livingston for the lost investment. There could be no recompense for Miriam. What she’d lost by loving him was intangible.
He’d lost her trust.
“I don’t want our marriage to be annulled,” Miriam sucked in a breath of salty marine air. “I don’t wish to die either, but I would rather live a full life with you than live a bit longer letting fear of my asthma rule over me. I’m staying.”
Richard groaned. “Miri, no; I love you too much to risk your life. I am not worth your health.”
“We’ll make a new life. Together,” she pleaded. Miriam’s heart twisted so tight it physically ached within her chest. Her fingers scrabbled against his shirtsleeves as though she could keep him by sheer force. “Somewhere warm by the seaside. I can get by without a greenhouse in the city. I cannot get by without you.”
He pulled Miriam into his arms and brushed a kiss a
gainst her dark curls. “I have to stay here and fix this. You need to go with Mrs. Kent.”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“I have never been clearer in my thinking than I am at this moment,” Richard scowled. “Get on that ship.”
“I can’t. I made a promise. It hasn’t been the easiest journey, but I would follow you on any adventure, my love,” Miriam spoke quickly. “I would marry you again. In any country. I would follow you to the ends of the earth.”
“Miri,” he gasped against her cheek. “No. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. I betrayed you.”
“Listen to me, dear heart,” Miriam demanded, pulling back a few inches. “Don’t make me get on that boat. The one thing I can’t forgive you is if you send me away now when you most need me.”
Richard swallowed. “Miri, why would you want to stay?”
“Because I love you,” she replied simply. “Not because of your new title. I don’t care whether anyone calls me ‘lady.’ You told me who and what you were from the beginning, but you only told me half the story, Richard. You failed to tell me about your persistence. About your commitment to people you care about. It isn’t your fault I refused to listen when you only told me about the bad. You never told me about the good aspects of you.”
“I am so glad you didn’t listen,” Richard chuckled sadly. He raised her hands and kissed the backs of her knuckles. “Every single moment I have spent with you, Miri, has been the happiest time of my life. I cannot fathom a life without you.”
“Then, don’t make me go,” she pleaded.
He must. Whatever it took, he had to make Miriam get on that boat. Not the next, for Richard’s will had stretched to the breaking point. One more night near her and he was bound to lose control. If he had to do it again, one last time, to save her…
“I can’t let you stay because I cannot protect you. Not in the way you need me to,” he whispered.
“What way is that?” Miriam asked. A hint of wariness narrowed her pupils.
“Wholly. There will always be a selfish part of me that yearns for recognition from my peers. I cannot promise you that I will put your first, and your health demands nothing less,” Richard spoke low against her hair.
Miriam drew a shuddering sigh. She wanted to scream; she was so tired of people using her health as an excuse to ignore her wishes and desires. A flurry of activity brought Mrs. Kent a few feet closer, anxiously trying to herd her charge onto the ship without intruding in the moment. But try as she might, she could not convince him to relent.
“Then, it appears my adventure has come to an end,” Miriam said brokenly.
“I wish you many more.” Richard squeezed her fingers and kissed her cheek. Miriam turned away and let Mrs. Kent lead her up the gangplank. When she turned, glanced back, he was gone. Miriam’s chest turned hot and tight with repressed sadness. As her ship drifted out away from the harbor she remained at the railing. She watched the sun play over the water until it sank below the churning surface and night fell hard around her shoulders. Miriam wondered if she would ever meet her husband again.
Chapter 30
The birth started hard, fast, and early. Richard awoke to his sister-in-law’s agonized cries before the gray of dawn had lightened the sky enough to see. He trotted down the stairway in bare feet to find his brother in shirtsleeves and trousers, instructing the footman where to locate the doctor.
“Find him. Rouse him. Get the man here before my wife gives birth. Bring a midwife, as well.”
Once, Richard might have questioned the need for both a midwife and a doctor to oversee a birth. But seeing the panic in his brother’s movements and wild dishevelment pushed Richard into high alert.
“What is happening?”
“The baby is coming. Or babies. It’s early,” Edward spoke in clipped tones as he urged the sleepy footman to hurry.
“How can I help?”
Edward regarded him for a moment. “Go with the footman, bring back the doctor as fast as you can. He’s more likely to hasten for a baron than to a servant, and I dare not leave Harper’s side.”
An agonized cry from upstairs punctuated his point. “I’ll get Viola, too,” Richard offered.
“Good thinking. Her sister will be a great comfort,” Edward spoke over his shoulder as he flew back upstairs. As Richard tugged on his half boots, an anxious maid passed by with a kettle of water to be heated on the stove. It splashed onto Richard’s pants leg.
“Begging your pardon,” she gasped.
“Not to worry,” he replied reassuringly. “Tis only water and wool. Let me assist you.” He plucked the canister from her and carried it down the steps into the kitchen, where the scullery maid was poking the fire back to life. Richard placed the metal on the stove and dashed out the side door into the alleyway. At the end of the drive, the footman was getting into a hansom. Richard called out and leaped into the cab before the door could close.
“Congratulations on the news, your lordship,” the footman offered as the horse lurched into a reluctant trot.
“Let’s wait until the babe arrives safely before we pop the champagne and light a cigar at Gliddon’s,” Richard replied with his old acerbity. Like his clothes, it fit poorly on him now. Unlike waistcoats and shirts, he could not have it tailored to suit.
Last night, Richard had poured himself a cognac in his brother’s study, taken a single sip, and tossed it into the banked fire. He still had work to do. A cottage to sell. Debts to repay. Once it was done, he could get and stay as drunk as he wished, but in the meantime, Richard needed to atone for his business failures the way he’d atoned for his romantic failures. By setting it all to rights. Put things back as they had been before he crashed into Miriam, Livingston, and Howard’s lives.
Make them whole.
“You’re to be recognized in a special ceremony. You’ve been invited to Court and everything,” the footman said in awe.
Richard absorbed this information without remark. He had imagined this moment for years, when he would finally be transformed into a man of importance. A man of stature and worth, whose rank superseded those of other men. Ever since his father had received an unexpected earldom after Richard’s uncle had been killed in service to the crown, Richard had waited his turn to receive the same news. He should feel elated. Elevated.
Yet he was numb. Nothing mattered without the woman he had sent away, out of his life forever. Gray streaked the sky above as Richard stared out the window. What an uncommon streak of fine sailing weather, Richard mused. The crossing from England to America typically took longer, but Miriam ought to be home by the end of October. He could make it back by Christmas, or perhaps hire a solicitor to handle the annulment from here. There was no need to tell the truth about their one night together, unless…
…unless he’d gotten her with child.
An avalanche of cold fear piled over him. Lizzie had not been pregnant, but Miriam could be. He should never have sent her back. Richard dropped his head into his hands. How did he continue to make the same mistakes over and over again?
“I apologize, sir, if I speak out of turn. I thought you knew,” the abashed footman offered.
“It’s quite alright.” Richard had expected having a title to magically change him into something else. Someone better. Yet he was no different than he’d been, still himself with all his humbling mistakes to atone for.
“Here we are,” the footman halted the horses, and they flung themselves down from the little buggy. Phaeton. How confusing to have so many words to describe a simple cart pulled by a horse. Richard shook his head as if to free it from cobwebby thoughts. Having stepped outside his class and country, he found he could not step back into the stream of excess privilege.
Yet, Richard found he didn’t mind. He had discovered a richness of relationships with his family, now that he was no longer fighting them. A title was only a bit of icing.
But the cake…the cake had been Miriam all along. He’d been a fool
. Again.
“What are you wanting at this hour?” a housekeeper demanded. “Dr. Thompson is just back from a bloody surgery. He’s dead on his feet.” The woman barred the entry with her body and a fierce glare.
“Her ladyship the countess of Briarcliff is in childbirth,” Richard replied, with the lordliest manner he could muster. The lady glanced away and sighed.
“Very well. I shall rouse him. Come in.”
He had to admit that titles occasionally had their uses.
Richard and the footman waited in the modest foyer of the doctor’s home. There were no statues, no marble, only carved wood and wallpaper. It smelled of smoke and leather, with a metallic tinge that reminded Richard of blood. After a few impatient minutes, a stair creaked as footsteps echoed from above. The mustached doctor appeared, buttoning a gray suit around his middle, his face haggard in the harsh stripes of sunrise piercing the windows. Richard waved him on and cracked open the door.
“I’m coming, I’m coming. Babies take their time. You might’ve let me rest,” the man grumbled. Edward’s footman had located the doctor’s kit. He raised it to show it was ready to go.
“These babies wait for no one,” Richard observed. “You’re needed immediately.”
He swept the doctor into the conveyance and secured the door. The servant drove fast, faster than Richard would have done, with an intimate knowledge of London’s streets. He dodged street urchins and hand carts hawking wares, tired nags pulling cabs with heads slung low. A pair of drunks stumbling home after a night of debauchery made Richard peer backward, but they were too far gone for him to recognize. Once they might have been his companions. Now, they were nothing more than obstacles on the way to what he cared most about. His family.
The footman pulled the carriage to a hard stop in front of the Briarcliff townhouse. Less than an hour had passed since their departure. Richard only hoped they were in time to help Harper. If she needed it.
