The Lost Lord (London Scandals Book 3)

by Carrie Lomax

  Miriam gasped as Richard nipped his way down her neck. “I want more of your touch,” she whispered with hot breath against his temple.

  “I want it too. So badly, Miri,” he groaned. Need tightened his body until every nerve vibrated with desire. God, if he could only lose himself in her touch and be reborn a new man—one worthy of her. Not this lying, terrified shadow who was desperate not to lose the only good thing that had ever happened to him.

  “Take it,” she whispered.

  “No,” he breathed, though his disobedient hand disentangled from her hair and skimmed down her ribcage. His thumb traced the outer curve of her breast. Miriam groaned.

  “Please,” she begged. “Come to my room. My father won’t care. Mrs. Kent won’t know.”

  “No,” Richard grunted as he flicked his thumb over the tight bead buried beneath layers of fabric. The glorious woman in his arms strained against him. Damn her tight, modestly cut bodice. He couldn’t taste the peaks of her breasts. The key clattered to the floor as he blindly hooked one button through the loop at the base of her neck.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  More buttons. Richard’s fingers urged them through the fabric, one after another. “Why do you have so many buttons?” he complained.

  “To keep my dress on my body,” Miriam observed drily. “Rather inconvenient at the moment.”

  “Agreed,” Richard muttered. His body refused to heed the warning signal flashing in his brain. Stop now, before you make this even worse. As long as he didn’t deflower her everything could go back to the way it was. To protect her he must preserve her innocence. No matter how difficult Miriam made it for him to resist.

  He could give them something, though, if he could get past the barrier of her clothing. Their lips met again, hers swollen slightly with the force of their kisses. Richard gentled. Miriam nipped his lower lip as the fabric slipped down her shoulder. Moonlight, filtered through the window, revealed a flash of pure white.

  Don’t sully her.

  Too late. He was in the gap before the thought had fully formed. Fine. He would give them a taste of mutual satisfaction, the promise of the future he yearned for with all his being. Only a taste.

  Richard palmed the curve of her exquisite breast. Once, he’d fancied himself a connoisseur of fine bosoms. The small, plump, pert mound that rolled beneath his touch was delightful, but nowhere near as much as the sigh Miriam exhaled into his neck.

  “I’ve wanted this for so long,” she whispered.

  “This? It has hardly been more than a few weeks,” Richard replied, stroking her again as she curved against him, seeking more. Yet he knew what she meant. It felt as if he were the innocent, experiencing lust for the first time. Ridiculous, of course. But how else to explain the frantic tremble in his body as he delved through layers of soft linen and cotton to find the hard tip of her—

  Ahh. There it was. Miriam’s sigh echoed his own as hypersensitive skin met like. Richard rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

  “More,” she demanded, her arm anchoring around the back of his neck. “I like that. Do it more.”

  Richard grunted and complied. A long, satisfied sigh in his ear told him he’d found a rhythm she liked. His own lust lay banked, awaiting his lady’s satisfaction. But his forbearance would not be rewarded this night. The tail of a ribbon tickled his wrist. Richard grinned and tugged it. The long string unwound from her chemise. Miriam moaned.

  “Excuse me. I heard a noise.”

  Miriam froze in his arms. An arctic chill settled over them, cooling their ardor in an instant. Richard felt it in the stiffness of her back where seconds ago she had undulated wantonly against him.

  “Mrs. Kent. Lord Northcote was wishing me good night,” Miriam said breathless guilt. She cleared her throat and pulled back. Richard dropped his arms.

  “So, I see.”

  The woman stood before them in a plain white night dress with an equally unadorned wrapper. A white cap covered her braided hair, which dangled over her shoulder. She eyed them accusingly. Richard had never heard such repressive condemnation in three small words as he did from Miriam’s caretaker. The thin woven ribbon he’d stolen dangled from his fingers, proof that his hands had been where they didn’t belong.

  Chapter 16

  Slowly, he removed his hand from Miriam’s bodice. Quickly he pulled it up, wishing buttons could magically fasten themselves. It would have had the added benefit of getting Miriam naked that much easier, although at this precise moment he wanted her modesty restored. He had no right to besmirch her innocence no matter how badly he wanted to.

  “Another minute, Mrs. Kent.” Miriam spoke firmly this time. Her keeper eyed them with wary disappointment. “I shall see her to bed.”

  Mrs. Kent sniffed. “It isn’t as though Miriam needs assistance with her fastenings.”

  Miriam’s chin rose. “We are to be married.”

  The woman’s expression changed almost imperceptibly from fierce remonstrance to pensive sadness. Fear. If he needed confirmation that Mrs. Kent suspected his motives, he had it now. Unease prickled the back of his neck. What might she do to prevent their union?

  Until now, Richard had not had to consider failure. Yet, until Miriam wore his ring and he could sweep her away from Lizzie’s influence, there remained a distinct possibility of discovery. He could not break Miriam’s heart. Therefore, she must never suspect. Their leaving America was the only answer.

  “I wish you joy,” Mrs. Kent replied woodenly, her eyes lighting accusingly on him. “Now, off to bed.”

  Miriam sighed. “I am not a child. Are you planning to stand there until I return to my room?”

  “Yes.” The women commenced a stare down, which Miriam quickly won. Mrs. Kent averted her gaze. “If you promise to return to your separate rooms, I shall wait out of earshot in the hallway.”

  When she was gone, Richard bent to retrieve Miriam’s key. “I suppose I summoned her when I dropped this.”

  “Heavy iron keys. My father swears by strong locks,” Miriam observed wryly.

  “Understandable. He has a treasure to keep safe.” Richard threaded the string through a loop of the key. Miriam watched, wide-eyed, as he knotted the ends together around his neck and tucked the heavy iron key into his shirt. Close to his heart. Miriam smiled shyly. “I will come for you when the time is right, Miri.” He kissed her cheek, inhaling her sweet fragrance as though her delicate strength was enough to carry him through this mess he had made. “Not tonight.”

  Miriam hitched up her sleeve. “I suppose I can wait a while longer. If I must.”

  “Soon, Miri. I promise.”

  Mrs. Kent coughed. Richard released his bride with great reluctance.

  “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the pastor intoned gravely. Behind him, a vista of thick green trees and gray cliffs obscured direct view of the river.

  This could not be happening. Her? Marrying an English lord? When she hesitated, the pastor intoned again, “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

  “Yes,” Miriam said eagerly, her gloved hand clasped in Richard’s. In her free hand was a large bouquet of summer flowers. Roses interspersed with lilacs and a vine dripping artfully down her wrist.

  “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the pastor intoned gravely.

  “Of course,” Richard drawled in his most English lord tone. Miriam frowned at him.

  “I need a yes or no.” The pastor waited.

  “Yes. That is what of course means,” Richard observed. The officiant stiffened. His eyes narrowed. He cast a dark glare at Miriam as if to quell her optimism for this union. In turn, she glanced sidelong at Richard. He squeezed her gloved hand reassuringly.

  Although it was only mid-morning, Miriam wore a rose-colored gown with silver trim at the neckline and lace at the sleeves and hem. Her father had rolled his eyes upon finding her so dressed. “You’re only getting married,
Miri.”

  As marriage was one adventure she had never expected to embark upon, Miriam had decided a bit of sparkle was warranted. It offset the thin gold ring Richard had placed on her left hand.

  “I pronounce you husband and wife,” barked the officiant. He snapped his book closed. Behind them, Livingston Walsh clapped loudly. Mrs. Kent’s brow knit over her thin nose, but tears shone in her eyes. Richard bowed and offered Miriam his arm.

  It was done. She was a wife.

  “Are you going to kiss me?” she asked, a little breathless.

  Tonight, Miriam would have her next adventure. She shivered with awareness. Richard bent his head to hers and brushed a chaste kiss against her mouth. Well. That was disappointing. Understandable, considering their audience, however.

  “Surely you’ll accept a glass of champagne on your wedding morning,” Livingston declared as they trooped into the bright dining room to find a large table spread with crystal and delicate pastries.

  “Father. Stop. He doesn’t drink now,” Miriam shushed. A tense moment passed as Richard stared down both temptation and her father. He wavered. She could see it. Miriam shot a dark glare at Livingston.

  “It’s fine,” Richard murmured. Richard stood before his chair and raised the cool glass by its thick stem as Livingston launched into a brief toast.

  “I wish you and Miriam a long and happy life together. Welcome to the family.” Livingston touched his glass to Miriam’s, then Mrs. Kent’s, and finally to Richard’s. The ladies sipped the fizzy stuff. Richard pressed the vessel to his mouth. He swallowed a small sip and placed the glass back on the table. Miriam beamed at him.

  “Delicious,” Richard mumbled. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “When do you return to the city?” Livingston asked. Beyond the tree line, the river sparkled blue and restless in an expansive view down the Hudson River. The cold front had blown off in the night.

  “Immediately,” Richard responded. Miriam started beside him.

  “So soon?” she asked. He squeezed her hand as if reluctant to disappoint her.

  “We have many details to pin down before the ship sets sail. I promise you shall have your wedding night,” Richard said, his jaw tense. Where was the charming man Miriam had coaxed to her side over the past several weeks? This was no time for Richard to turn curmudgeon.

  “About that,” Livingston drawled, ever ready to focus on business. “Have you and Howard decided upon your goods yet?”

  “Not fully,” he replied. Miriam’s husband of half an hour wouldn’t meet her eyes. “It is one more detail I must pin down before we leave. We’ve a meeting at the warehouse.”

  “But…” Miriam gasped. “I thought Howard was in charge of cargo.”

  Richard leaned close and whispered against her cheek, “Dear heart, we shall have our wedding night. Just not this evening.”

  She inhaled and shuddered. “Of course.” Miriam cleared her throat. “There’s also the proportion of passengers versus cargo. The Thetis can only carry so much. I prefer to diversify our offering rather than bet entirely on a single shipment. Tobacco may only be imported through London, and we shall have considerable competition from the East India company. We shall also import bolts of cotton and wheat.” She babbled to conceal her confusion. Richard had wanted her two nights ago. How could he leave her now? Why wouldn’t he look her in the eye?

  Livingston nodded. “Solid planning. As your wedding gift, I shall offer financial backing. If it all goes tits up, you can live off Miriam’s investments. And what will your role be?”

  “I am taking Miriam ahead to secure warehouse space and make contacts in London. I need her head for figures with me.”

  There. It was out.

  “The hell you will. You promised not to take her away from me. Miriam stays.” Livingston grabbed the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket to refill his glass.

  “I wish for my bride to meet my family. It won’t be for long.”

  “No. My daughter stays, or I withdraw my support.” Livingston glared at him. Beside him, Mrs. Kent pursed her lips and picked at a miniature cake.

  “Father.” Miriam interjected. “Richard is to receive a title. He’ll be made a lord by the king. I wish to be there.”

  “He’s already a lord, supposedly. Or is that one more lie?” Livingston snarled.

  “Not a lie. It’s a nicety. Should it come to pass, the king may expect to meet Miriam,” Richard said hastily. “She could become Lady Northcote.”

  “As if I care about that.” The man settled back into his chair. “Mrs. Kent, what do you think of this?”

  “I think it’s up to Miriam,” Mrs. Kent replied softly with steel in her voice.

  “I wish it. I want you to come, Mrs. Kent, if you’re willing.” Miriam gripped his hand excitedly. She could wait for her wedding night a few days longer.

  “Please,” Richard interjected with a small smile. “I wouldn’t consider traveling without you.”

  “Ganging up on me is a foul play,” Livingston mumbled, but Richard could see he would relent. He speared a sausage and pointed it at Richard. “You had damned well better bring her back in one piece. I’ll murder you myself if anything happens to my daughter.”

  August

  Chapter 17

  As July came to a close, everything was falling into place.

  He and Miriam prepared to board the New Hope, a scheduled packet running between New York and London. The tickets had taken a substantial portion of his funds from Howard. Richard found himself skipping meals to keep his spending to the absolute minimum. At the warehouse, he worked like an ox alongside the hook men unloading the boats and moving cargo into the nearby warehouse.

  On two occasions, Howard signaled that he was to drive a wagon uptown to make a special delivery in the middle of a field. Richard never asked Howard anything about them. He was one link in a chain. But he wondered where the escaped slaves went. What the people whose lives he briefly touched did with their tenuous freedom.

  “Watch your step!” Howard shouted. It was embarrassing how difficult it had become to keep his new wife’s hands off his body. Considering how Miriam took every opportunity to corner him for a lingering kiss, Richard thought he deserved a nomination for sainthood. Only that morning she’d slipped into his bedroom at Cliffside in nothing more than a thin night rail. Half awake, he’d barely rolled away in time to prevent her from grasping his fulsome arousal by pure, innocent accident.

  “Have mercy, Miri,” Richard had groaned. “I am only a man.”

  “Are a woman’s desires less?” she responded with affront.

  “Hardly. We haven’t the time to do a proper job of it right now.” Richard had chucked her under the chin before moving to dress behind a screen. It gave him time for his discomfort to subside. “Besides. What if you hate my family? Don’t you think it’s proper that you should meet them before making our marriage permanent?”

  Miriam had pouted. Richard found her genuine frustration endearing rather than manipulative.

  “You make me feel as if you don’t want me. As a woman,” she stammered.

  “Oh, Miriam, I want you badly indeed.” Richard had more self-preservation than to dream of taking her innocence beneath her father’s roof. The thought of bringing her to his rooms with their indelible memories of Lizzie was unthinkable. Even if he hadn’t had ulterior reasons to give Miriam a path to back out, Richard had no place to give her the experience she deserved. He’d tugged out the key he kept around his neck. “I will use this when the time is right.”

  Her mouth had quirked up at the corners. “It won’t work on the ship. I’ll have to give you another.”

  “I shall become chatelaine of all your bedroom keys.” He’d kissed her hand, then his wife’s cheek.

  His wife. Richard could hardly believe his good fortune. He had a beautiful, sweet bride who adored him. In his wildest fantasies Richard had never imagined such an outcome. Every day that passed without Li
zzie darkening his doorstep let Richard relax his guard a bit further. Until that afternoon when he returned for one last time to his airy rooms in Manhattan to finalize his packing. An ivory envelope on thick, expensive paper lay on the wooden table in the entryway of his home. Edward recognized the handwriting as his brother’s.

  “You’re leaving, then?”

  Richard leapt out of his chair, heart pounding. “Lizzie.”

  She smirked coldly and paced the floor. “As you see.”

  “Get out.” How long had she been waiting in his apartment?

  Her smirk grew colder and harder. “I understand you’ve taken a wife. Kind of you to invite us to the wedding. I thought you’d abandoned us.”

  Richard gaze fell to her belly. Lizzie turned on her heel, preventing closer inspection.

  “You’ve done well. Frankly, I’m surprised Miriam has fallen for you. She always was so much cleverer than every other girl at school. I should think she could see through your naked ambition. Through your lies.”

  “I never lied to her,” Richard hissed furiously.

  “But you haven’t told her about our child, have you?” Again, Lizzie angled her body away from view. Tap tap tap. The sinister sound of half boots on wood floors echoed Livingston’s. Despite his pistol and whiskey, Richard recognized Lizzie as the greater threat. He remained silent, confirming what his former lover already knew.

  “I thought not. Unless you want me to write an intimate note to my dearest and oldest friend about the existence of our child, hand me that letter from your brother. Now.”

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Still, he hesitated.

  “How did you know?” Richard demanded. Shame and guilt swirled within him, tinged with a darker note of fear. Absurd. This woman’s head barely came to his bicep. Yet her brazen blackmail had Richard trussed with his own sense of worthlessness.

  He could free himself from the trap with a few words to Miriam but in doing so he would crush the warm trust in her eyes. Telling the truth meant losing her. Richard couldn’t bring himself to do that. Not now, when there was so much at risk. Howard’s business. His own self-regard. He’d lose Livingston Walsh’s grudging measure of respect, too.