Chapter Eight

Remembering Adam

My sister could fuss, make eyes at me all day, not that I could see her doing it. I was not leaving Blaren House, not yet.

I heard a chair move behind me. I assumed it was Lord Wycliff sitting at his desk.

Ester was a small pacing blur and could hold her breath and turn blue as she did when we were younger, but nothing would make me go. I wouldn’t budge, not without the truth.

Dizzy, head pounding, I could only see blurs and shadows.

Yet, I knew this Lord Wycliff stared at me.

I felt his gaze upon me, hot and heavy, making me wonder if I was properly dressed or how dirty I’d become after falling.

No shrinking from this light. Wycliff was the key to the proof I needed.

“Ruth, the man we came to see is gone. Let’s do the same.” Ester’s blurry pink dress moved in front of me again, back and forth—frown in focus, frown out of focus.

“Please, Ester. Stop.”

Lord Wycliff put his boots on the desk next to me, close to my hip. Hessians, I imagined, with something that swung when his feet shifted. A tassel dangling mid shaft. Fashionable, expensive boots.

A tang of polish hit my nose. The man might be crazy with a whip, but he did possess some fastidious habits…like Adam.

“What is it you’d like to know of the Wilkinsons or Adam?”

The graveled voice, low, hoarse sounding—grated. I didn’t know why. It just did.

I rolled the shiny gold band my father had bought to perfect my widowhood. “Did you know Adam was attacked on his way to London from Scotland four years ago?”

It was the longest sigh I’d ever heard, but then he said, “Yes. I know. Adam was coming from Gretna Green.”

“Then you are aware he married?”

Another long sigh, this one punctuated with something sounding like a grumbled curse. “Yes.”

My sister stopped pacing. “How do you know for sure? You weren’t there, were you?’

A third long, guttural groan sounded.

But I was taken aback by Ester’s tone.

The haughtiness. She didn’t believe any of this. She could jab me with knitting needles or knives, but nothing would hurt worse.

I stared at the blur of boots by my hip because I couldn’t look at Ester. “He knows because he saw the other half of the registry.”

“Yes. I saw it.”

“Oh,” Ester said.

That was it. Four years of living with everyone calling me a liar and that just summed up my life in five words.

I became speechless, barely able to release my own sigh.

“Ruth really did marry Adam Wilky or C. A. Wilkinso as it says on her half.”

“C. A. Wilkinson. Yes.”

“Then it is also true, the story about them being attacked. That Adam died?”

Ester’s tone, so full of disbelief, began to scrape my hollow insides. I felt nauseous and promised to never again be laid bare like this. There was no one to trust but Chris.

Noise shifted behind me, then something moved in front. A man’s hand, rough, smelling of leather, lifted my chin. “Follow my finger with your eyes. This will tell me if there is a concuss of your skull.”

It took a few moments before his index finger was within my field of view, as the doctors called it.

His sigh was warm on my cheek, and the way he touched my neck, so gentle yet strong—it brought a little relief to my headache.

“I take it no one can believe in a love like yours and Adam’s. Both so young.”

“Not so young. I was nineteen. I’m a wiser twenty-three now.”

“It was young to be swept away so completely.” He made a loud swallow like it hurt to talk. “Adam said he felt oneness with his love, like no other.”

A chill went through me. The voice was dark and twisted, but his words, those were Adam’s.

I moved his hand from my face but held his fingers for a moment. “It sounds as if you knew Adam well. He took the registry from the blacksmith’s shop. No one believes we wed. They think he is a liar or a blackguard who used me.”

“But you know you wed, Ruth.”

He said my name as if we were friends. We were not. He was some high-handed lord who believed he had a right to such intimacy. I dropped his palm. “Call me Mrs. Wilky.”

“Do you think Adam a blackguard, Mrs. Wilky?”

“I don’t know anymore. Time hasn’t been kind to his memory. And everyone talking ill of me for trusting him… I don’t know.”

Another long sigh uttered.

“Adam was no liar. He married Ruth Elizabeth Croome.”

He said my full name. Even in this raw voice I heard sweetness. I let him take my hand again.

He rolled it in his big, rough palms. “This is not his ring. Have you remarried?”

“No. Not yet. You sound angry.” I balled my fist and shook it at the tall blur. “Are you disappointed that Adam wed a Blackamoor?”

Lord Wycliff chuckled. “No. Adam had fine tastes. Who would be disappointed in you?”

“Plenty.”

“You’re beautiful, well-mannered, a bit of a hot temper underneath. But you are to remarry?”

I lowered my hands to the desk and tried to pretend I didn’t hear the disappointment in his voice.

“An offer will come soon, so no getting ideas.” Ester’s voice was sharp.

“Then I’m on time to give my approval. You’re a Wilkinson. I’m the head of the family.”

“Lord Wycliff, I want nothing from you or your family. No money. Just answers.”

He was in front of me again, hovering.

“Mrs. Wilky.” His finger traced the scar on my temple, the mark I’d tried to hide with curls. “You suffered greatly from the attack. Yours and Adam’s enemies will suffer threefold.”

Ester tried again to take my arm, to elbow her way into the privacy of my and Wycliff’s conversation. “What? What did he say?”

I bit my lip for a moment. I did want those men to be brought to justice, but I didn’t have Job’s patience to suffer more losses or to see the wrong people hurt before vengeance came. “No talk of revenge. No more bloodshed. No nothing.”

My sister, I pictured her standing at a distance, wanting to hear Lord Wycliff’s whispers, my replies, but it had been so long since anyone had believed me, I wanted this moment to last. I wanted this moment for me.

“Ruth, ask him your questions so he can send us home. No, I’ll do it. Do you have the other half of the registry?”

“Mrs. Wilky, you need spectacles. The lenses, they are thick?”

The man ignoring Ester made me want to chuckle, but had he ignored my distress about revenge? I gave up and nodded. “Yes. Lord Wycliff. Ester, did you get them?”

“No.” My sister said, her tone simmering in frustration, the way she did when Papa teased. “There was too much happening.”

“Ladies, I apologize again for how I received you. I used an awful jest to make my enemies think nothing of you.”

That sounded sincere, even reasonable, given this was Adam’s relative.

“But you were seen. Until I’m assured you’re safe, I’m obligated to see to your protection, to our family’s protection.”

This time, I sighed and bit my tongue. “Ouch.”

His hands went to my face. “Are you well, ma’am?” There was more gravel and husk to his voice. “Where does it hurt? Let me make it better.”

The flirt was examining me like those physicians Mama paid to come to Fournier Street. But this touch was different. I was a treasure, not the negress specimen some were loath to be near. “My head aches.”

“Oh, we can’t have that, my dear. May I touch your neck again?”

“You’re already touching me.”

“I suppose I am, but I want to make sure it’s allowed. I’m still on shaky ground with my poor greeting.”

“Yes, you are, but do what you can. The tension won’t relent sometimes.”

“I accept the challenge.”

Gnarled and slow was his speech, but I felt him grinning at me. I didn’t care, not the way his hands eased the pain.

His fingers made faster motions, big circles at the nape of my neck.

The pressure, the urge to vomit eased. “To bring such relief. Grin away.”

He laughed, the rumble low and throaty.

“Ruth, make him let you alone. We can’t trust him.”

Was he taking liberties?

Perhaps, but it seemed his fingertips knew where the pain was, and he’d chosen to rid me of it. “Hush, Ester.”

“Ruth, Wycliff’s staring at you like a dog hungry for a bone.”

“Are you staring…like that?”

“Hmm. Yes. Yes, I am. You are lovely. One doesn’t see such works of art at the mercantile ports. I’ve been a seaman for a while. Only London has such beauties. Here, you can wear your hair uncovered, something not done often in the Indies.”

One of his gifted fingers again traced the scar at my temple.

That was the only lasting reminder of the truth about me and Adam.

Shame filled me.

My cheeks heated. I caught his hands. “I’m feeling better. You can stop.”

“Sister, why are you giving comfort to this cretin? Bed wenches, he called us.”

Ester was at my side, maybe looking around Wycliff’s shoulder. That image brought me a chuckle. “I’m not a bed wench, and neither are you. You say all the time it doesn’t matter what others say. How different is this?”

“We are here to learn about Adam Wilky, not to let a blowhard touch my sister’s face.”

Wycliff sat with a thud on the desk. “I know everything of Adam, Mrs. Wilky. I’m sorry for your loss, for everything.”

Done with everyone’s pity, I clenched the edge of the desk. “I only want the truth.”

“Of course, ma’am. Ask anything.”

That was one of those open-for-interpretation responses. The man was flirting, but I was immune to such passions. My reticule remained looped on my wrist. I risked Wycliff’s ripping my proof, but I needed to hear his reaction. “This is my half of our marriage registry.”

“Our marriage registry?”

“You know what I mean. Mine and Adam’s.”

He put his hand on it and mine. “May I?”

For a second, maybe more, this was Adam in front of me—same height, same way of hovering, and asking permission. But my Adam was dead, and this was a mere relative, a copy.

“Lord Wycliff, it’s all I have of Adam, but you can see that this is valid. Do you have the other half?”

“I’ve seen it. It was sent here four years ago. I don’t know where it is now.”

So close.

So close, and I’d lost again.

My Job’s luck won. Well, no boils or falling roofs with this judgment. I’d walk out of here the way I came, without that smidgeon of hope the registry had offered.

In my head, I recited my gifts, my blessings—Chris, a home, clothes, food, the kind barrister, knitting.

Still, my face felt wet. This loss undid me.

“Why are you crying, Mrs. Wilky?”

“I’ve come. I came out of the house. And you don’t have it.”

“I see. I wish I had everything that you needed.”

Could a raspy masculine voice hold such melancholy? Lord Wycliff’s did, and it tugged on me.

With my thumbs, I smeared the tears on my cheeks then wiped them on my shawl. My poor Christopher. Nothing will change the gossip about him now.

Digging into my reticule, I tried to finger a handkerchief, but Lord Wycliff put one in my hand. “I haven’t been believed for four years. No…no friends or family. No one. And you saw Adam’s half. You said it so soft and easy, like I’d asked about the weather. But you don’t have it.”

“Sister, I’m sorry.” Ester’s voice was heavy, and she clasped my shoulder.

“Ma’am, there is nothing soft or easy about me. I’ve been away for a long time. The letter could be anywhere. You’ve kept the registry all these years. You still love Adam?”

“What? What kind of question is that? Hand it back.” I flailed my arms. I must’ve looked wild.

“Here.” He slipped the paper against my palm.

I took my time and folded the registry like a precious pinafore, then slid it into my reticule. “I didn’t have this until two weeks ago. It was sent to me.”

“Two weeks? Mrs. Wilky, someone had the registry for four years and just sent it two weeks ago?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m saying. Your belief turns to disbelief quickly, too?”

“No. I’ll believe anything you say. I can tell you are a woman of honor. You’re guided by your heart. That’s what Adam believed.”

That used to be me, but I couldn’t be guided by what I didn’t have. “What’s with your voice? The remains of a dry cough? An injury?”

“An injury. All wars have costs.”

England’s wars had injured and maimed so many. “Sorry.” I laid both hands flat upon the desk and turned toward the direction I heard his voice. “What relation are you to Adam?”

“We were close…like brothers. He told me everything about the woman he loved, Ruth Croome. You love daisies. You think your middle name, Elizabeth, makes you feel like a queen.”

Adam’s words. At least Adam couldn’t tell Lord Wycliff that he was dead because we’d returned to see my parents. My fault. I pushed the guilt into the back of my mind. It needed to stay there.

“You have one beloved sister. I believe Adam said you described her as perfect and sheltered.”

I wanted to laugh at the memory, but now this felt like another violation. Adam had given away their privacy. “Adam had no brother. Who are you?”

Ester grabbed my hand. “This is parlor games, Ruth. He’s speaking in riddles. It’s obvious he’s a cousin.”

“I share Adam’s bloodline. I’m related to you by marriage. The concern you hear in my terrible voice is for you and all my new relations, the Croome family. The men responsible for harming you and Adam were never brought to justice.”

“Harm? Adam was murdered. He was horribly killed, and I watched him die.”

“Then you understand why I must protect you. I’m honor bound to do so.”

“Ruth, how can we trust him? He’s crazed. He threw you over his shoulder.”

Ester was right in a lot of ways. Logical in her assessment. But the rebel inside me didn’t want logic. I wanted vindication. “You say you were close to Adam. He never spoke of you.”

“I suspect he didn’t say enough about a great many subjects.”

That truth stung, hitting hard at my empty chest. “Well, I didn’t come for a reunion. I’m aware that Adam’s family did not approve of him marrying me. He said that it was him choosing his mother’s heritage over his father’s.”

I heard the clink of a decanter and the spilling of a liquid.

“You are right. Many in my family did not approve. For me, knowing how he loved you, I think you perfect.”

“Ruth, he’s flattering you for some nefarious purpose. He doesn’t have the registry. We can stop this and leave.”

Ester was right again, and I hated that. “You don’t have the other half of the document. Please get us a carriage so we can leave you in peace. Peace is the most important thing.”

“Is that all you want? When did you ever give up so easily?” His voice sounded accusatory, but it was better than disbelief.

“I want nothing more.”

The screech of a chair being pulled out sounded behind me. If I had to see him beyond today, his silent footfalls would make me crazed.

“Mrs. Wilky, I know what to do to fix this and give you my protection.”

“But you don’t have the registry.” I pivoted upon the desk to see the big blur of Lord Wycliff sink into a chair. Then I waited for him, this new Wilkinson, to destroy my world again.