Chapter Nine

Ruth’s Proof

Wycliff leaned back in his father’s chair, in the hallowed study of Blaren House where his father had conducted his finance dealings. His wife and his sister-in-law, the disgruntled duo, were in front of him, readying to leave. He needed an offer for them, not a monied transaction, but something that would be agreeable and keep all sides close until Ruth remembered him and their love.

He picked up his glass of brandy and downed it. The liquid scorched his terrible throat and made him growl in his chest. This wasn’t how reunions should go. He’d read Homer’s Odyssey. It was his favorite. Odysseus had been missing for ten years, but he came home to a faithful Penelope. It was four years for him and Ruth, and she was being courted by other men.

It wasn’t fair to hold a vibrant Ruth to vows when she thought him dead, especially how she’d suffered.

But Wycliff had never, ever stopped loving her.

In his head, he’d imagined a reunion beyond some pearly gate. More than once when his frigate had come under attack, he’d thought he’d see her in the morn. He’d welcomed it and had wanted to be locked in her arms again.

Yet, each time he’d lived.

Then his father had secured his release. Wycliff had returned in time to spend the man’s last two months on this earth with him. Together, they’d righted the stolen monies from the recovered ledger, but he hated that his father wouldn’t see Uncle Soulden and Johnson’s downfall.

Ruth receiving her trunk after it had been missing for four years was not a coincidence.

“Shall you keep us in suspense?” She waved her hand at him. The glint shining from the gold band hit him in the eye.

“No, my lord,” Ruth said, “No. Finish your glass. Keep us waiting.”

Feisty.

He spun the crystal glass on the desk. “The country house may have Adam’s personal effects. I will send someone once I’ve settled into Blaren House, but until then, I’m your proof.”

“You’re my proof?”

She bowed her head. Her shoulders slumped, showing every inch of a defeated soul. “Then I’ve lost.”

“You never gave up this easily. I mean, not from all that Adam shared.”

He stared at Ruth. Well-dressed but in a muted color, not the bright hues of their youth. The woman wasn’t in want for anything that he could see, not that she was the type to be enticed by money. How had she survived the attack? What was her life like now?

“This is purgatory,” he said.

“Yes, it has been.”

“No, Mrs. Wilky, that’s what I’m feeling right now. If things had been different, Adam wouldn’t have needed to take the registry in the first place.”

“Ruth, Lord Wycliff is stalling, no doubt for some nefarious purpose.”

“Can’t I merely be reveling in the memories of Adam and the woman he loved? Mrs. Wilky, has your sister always been so cynical?”

“I’m not cynical,” Mrs. Bexeley said. “I’m suspicious. Let’s forget about the registry and him and go home. Home is safe.”

“Your sister is right. I don’t have the other half. In a few weeks, once I’ve settled my business affairs, I’ll be dedicated to finding this paper. I will get it for you.”

Her lips lifted then floundered. “I won’t be able to stall the barrister much longer. He’s asked me to marry him. I wanted proof before I accept his offer. I need to go into a new marriage with all the questions of Adam’s honorable intentions resolved.”

Her sister frowned, “Barrister Marks proposed? You didn’t say.”

“I told him I needed time to think it over, to see if it was right for me.”

Sitting on a proposal and doubting my intentions?

No. No to marrying someone else and no to doubting my love.

No marriage. Not over my body, dead or alive.

Barely able to contain the fury sweeping over him, he tapped his desk again, his finger drawing Ns for never, never going to give her up, never. It took all his strength to not leap up and confess. “Adam had a sister. She lived here. She would know exactly where his possessions were stored, but she’s missing.”

Ruth’s soulless eyes gained a sparkle brighter than the crystal sconces lining the study. “He did have a sister. Cicely’s missing?”

“You remember her? Yes, I’m hunting for her. She was upset at their father’s passing and went to stay with friends.” Cicely was livid that their father had kept the fact that Wycliff was alive a secret. Their father hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up, if release from the impressment could not be secured. “I’m her guardian. I received word of her disappearance from school two weeks ago.”

Ruth put her hands to her scar. “Two weeks? My trunk appeared two weeks ago.”

The look on Ruth’s face matched his concern that the incidents were linked to the Wilkinson’s unfinished war. “If you could wait until I find her, if you postpone things—”

“No. My plans are my plans.”

What Ruth wanted, she always possessed. “Then I am your proof. I can attest to your marriage. I will convince everyone who doubted.”

Ruth’s brow creased. Her lips parted, and he was entranced.

“Yes, Mrs. Wilky. Think on it. I can attest to the great love Adam had for you.”

“But you must be busy. And the search for Cicely—”

“Cicely, she’s a sweet girl, such a gentle nature, but she can be thoughtless. I’m sure she’ll turn up. And I might need your advice about being a guardian to a young girl. Adam said that you were clever on so many things.”

“I know how Adam loved his sister. She was sent away for her protection. He’d be crazed if he thought her lost. If I had known how to contact her, I would’ve befriended her. I’ll pray for her recovery.”

The way Ruth’s voice trembled made him feel horrible. He didn’t think she’d be so moved, but Ruth was his other half, of course she’d fear for Cicely. “Adam would want your situation resolved and his sister located. I can do both. When can we meet again?”

“We?” Mrs. Bexeley started waving her hand, as if she were directing birds in flight. “No. No. Her and you? My sister and wild whip man? No.”

“It’s a sjambok, Mrs. Bexeley. And I held it low, not intending to strike them, just to put fear in their hearts.”

“Well, it worked on mine. Ruth, you can’t be involved with him. This is dangerous. You can’t do anything dangerous. Your eyesight is too poor. You have fits. This is the first time you’ve ventured from Nineteen Fournier for something other than church or a doctor in two years.”

The grimace forming on Ruth’s face made the sister jump back. “It’s wild, something a willful spirit would do. Lord Wycliff, we live at Nineteen Fournier near Cheapside.”

“Ruth, this crazy peer—”

“Baron, ma’am.”

Mrs. Bexeley tiptoed back to Ruth. “Sorry. But this crazy baron shouldn’t be around you. Your nerves are bad.”

The door to the study opened. Lawden came inside and bowed. “My lord, you have an appointment.”

Wycliff moved from his seat and stood between the sisters and his trusted aid. “Prepare the carriage and take these ladies to Cheapside. And look outside. Mrs. Wilky has lost a pair of spectacles.”

Ruth nodded. “Nineteen Fournier is in the old Spitalfields part of Town. And thank you for looking for my spectacles.”

“It shall be done.” Lawden backed out the door.

“It will take a few minutes for my man to bring things around. While we wait, is there anything you’d like to know about Adam?”

Ruth looked down, never up or at him, not that she could see him. “Why was he so secretive of his name, even to me? I hate that he didn’t trust me with the truth.”

Wycliff hated that he’d done that, too, but that was how he’d navigated the world. Loving Ruth hadn’t been part of his plans.

Sidestepping the sisters, Wycliff scooped up his ebony cape and put it about Ruth’s shoulders. “He had his reasons. I’m sure if he’d lived, he would’ve told you all.”

“At lease he completed the registry with his true name. I can take comfort that he didn’t go to such lengths just to invalidate our union.”

That was what she thought.

No. Never.

He opened his mouth to confess, but how would she react when she already had so many doubts of his character? He fixed the collar of the cape, taking a chance to finger her falling curls. “He had his reasons. Perhaps as we reminisce, we can discover what they were. When may I see you again?”

Mrs. Bexeley grabbed her sister’s arm. “We need to be out of here, Ruth. This is not what you want. There’s enough to fret about with my husband giving his abolition speeches or Papa’s business. Must you fret over ghosts, too? Do you, Lord Wycliff, want that for her? Would Adam?”

He didn’t want Ruth in danger, but she was. The person who sent the trunk knew of her existence. That already put her in danger. He helped Ruth down from the desk but couldn’t resist leaving his hands about her waist.

Firm, probably still ticklish. “I owe Mrs. Wilky the opportunity to clear up confusion about her late husband. I can only imagine what you endured mourning a man who died too early. You’re too young to be a widow. You and Adam, you two should’ve grown old together.”

She poked him in his chest. “While you may have read it in the paper or a coroner’s notice, I saw his murder with my own eyes. And in your voice, I hear fear again. The conspiracy Adam talked of was true. They may have his sister.”

“No, I don’t think so, but you remember Adam’s ramblings?”

“I remember too many things, mostly how he suffered. And my regret of how things could’ve been different if things hadn’t been left unsaid.”

He should have let her slap him again.

That would hurt less than knowing her memories of Adam weren’t good.

Her love had waned. His hadn’t. That was unfair.

Mrs. Bexeley shook her fists. “Remember Chris. You can’t have this man around him. If we leave now, we can put Chris to bed. He needs you safe.”

Ruth backed away from Wycliff, her shoulders slouching. “Yes, Ester. You are right.”

The way Ruth crumbled.

It was the first time she’d acted afraid, and it was over this Chris. Her child? Her sister’s?

Anger again simmered in his gut.

A child, a potential marriage—Ruth had kept living, even though he hadn’t. Four years ago, he’d been a man who’d lost everything, just when he’d found all he’d needed in Ruth.

Now he was poised to win, but he’d lost Ruth.

Stepping in front of her, he adjusted the drape of the cape. It dragged on the ground. “Loving Adam was a choice. Having me about you to remind you of him, that’s your choice, too.”

“Thursday. My mother’s throwing a garden party for friends and family. I need you there to tell my parents about Adam.”

“Thursday. Excellent. Adam said you were a woman who knew her own mind.”

Horses brayed. The carriage Lawden ordered had arrived.

“Uninvite him, sister.”

Ruth’s glorious lips parted. “Thursday at two. As part of my Wilky family, you should be there. I need you there.”

If she could see his smile, she’d know he’d be there. “Yes, I cannot wait to meet your family and friends.” And this Chris.

“Good.” Ruth turned and walked straight into the doorframe. “Clumsy. Well. At least it wasn’t moved.”

“No. It wasn’t, my dear, you are still unsteady from the fall.” He slipped his arms about her waist again and held her close. “Use me to feel grounded. Let me know when you are ready to move forward.”

“Release her, Lord Wycliff,” Mrs. Bexeley said. “I can help her.”

“And let my cousin fall? Never.” Before either woman could object, he had Ruth up in his arms.

Hands placed in respectful places—looped about her long legs, a palm under her arms nearly cradling her ample bosom—he carried her, all the way to the carriage.

“This was not necessary, my lord,” she said. Her tone was low and crisp, not husky as when passion claimed her.

Memories of her smile, her laugh, her joy at small things like daisies—would haunt him tonight. “Carrying you, Mrs. Wilky, was very necessary. I’ll never let you be hurt again.”

Lawden assisted Mrs. Bexeley inside and tossed him a pair of broken brass spectacles.

Wycliff held on to Ruth’s door and handed her the frames. There was just enough glass left in the brass that maybe she could see him.

Ruth put the spectacles to her face and eyed him, but her expression remained unchanged.

His man coughed and pointed his head toward the second carriage.

Shutting the door, he stepped away and waved to the driver.

Soon, the carriage moved down the street at a pace far too fast for Ruth to remember, and leap out, and run back to him.

Lawden came beside him. He was a red-haired Irish man who’d apprenticed in Blaren House as a steward. The fellow literally had grown up with Adam and had taken care of his father while Adam had been lost to the Navy.

A spiritual man of good character and height to boot, Lawden was the only person Wycliff trusted. “The third step of your plan, reclaiming Blaren House, is finished. Well done.”

“We have an addition to my plans, Lawden.”

His man’s bushy brows lifted. “You never change your plans. All the steps are in place. We have steps four and five to go.”

Yes. The defrauded money had been restored to his control. Yes, everyone who cheated his father had begun to pay. Yes, he had Blaren House. Four: Blaren House had to be restored to its former glory for his sister’s enjoyment. Five: all the men who had killed Adam and Ruth had to lose their livelihood and freedom.

But this woman—threats to her safety could ruin it all.

Wycliff kicked at a rock, surely scuffing his meticulously polished boot. “We have an addendum to four.”

Lawden pulled out his blunderbuss. “We get to kill them? Now that’s—”

“No. I promised my father I wouldn’t. He knew I’d be the prime suspect and with prejudices as they are, I’d be lynched again. No, they all will have their downfall.”

“Oh.” Lawden lowered the gun. “Sorry, my lord.”

“Blaren House should be remade for its mistress, too. That requires gaining a wife. Lawden, I need to know everything about the Croomes. Everything, every relation, every business associate, every scandal. I especially want to know what Ruth Croome Wilky has been up to.”

There were questions in Lawden’s green eyes. “That was your wife?” He snapped to attention as if his question had stepped over a line. “It shall be done, my lord.”

“She was, and she needs to be again.”

Wycliff patted Lawden on the shoulder then climbed into his carriage. They’d visit another of the Blackamoor brothels tonight. Word in the underground of London had spread of the reward Wycliff offered for Cicely’s safe return.

A tip about a girl matching her description had surfaced this morning. His gut said it wasn’t her, that this could be a trap, but Wycliff couldn’t leave anything to chance. He was determined to save his sister, determined to have his revenge, and now, determined to have Ruth back in his arms again.

Wycliff wouldn’t rest until he’d won in every way.