“I’ve found something interesting,” Ralph said by way of answer.Then he set the paper aside and grabbed a second cloth.
Wyatt wrapped the first about his midsection and eased himself down into a chair, groaning softly as he did.
Ralph gave him a look of contempt before he tossed another cloth onto Wyatt’s feet to soak up the water.“Rough night?”
It had been.
He’d followed a purse snatcher from the theater district all the way to the docks.He’d no more caught the man when several of his compatriots had decided to join the fray.Not only had Wyatt been unable to apprehend the thief, he’d gotten a healthy beating for his efforts.“No more than usual.”
Ralph finally rose from the chair to assemble Wyatt’s clothing for the day.“You ought to quit.You’ve made your point, I think,” he said before he disappeared into the dressing room.
Wyatt wasn’t attempting to make a point, he was trying to make a difference.That’s what Ralph never seemed to understand.“I can’t quit.I’ve only just made the papers.”The reason he couldn’t stop was far more complex and way more personal.He clenched his hands and then unclenched them again, an image of his father flashing through his thoughts.Helping people who were too weak to help themselves was his life’s mission.A calling.
Ralph grunted.“Speaking of.Look at the headline inThe Times.”
Wyatt glanced over to see a drawing of a man dressed all in black with a black mask and a domino as he, twice the size of everyone else, chased down a group of five men.He smiled, or he tried.The scar prevented one side of his mouth from lifting, so it always looked as though he were giving some one-sided sly grin.“Very flattering,” he answered, rubbing his legs.
Ralph reemerged, laying a simple linen shirt, breeches, boots, cravat, vest, and waistcoat on the edge of the bed.“Quite.”
“I’m making people feel safer, you know.”
“By putting yourself in danger.”
True.Wyatt’s eyes drifted closed again as he listened to Ralph brush his boots clean.He’d have to finish the books by tonight to make certain his accounts were in order before going out again.It was a task he’d always done for himself.He enjoyed it, and it added a natural quiet to his days that balanced out his nightly activities.Perhaps he’d take tonight off from saving the city.He wasn’t sure his body could take another night.
Besides.One promise he’d made himself when he’d started his vigilante justice was that he’d not allow the people who depended on his land to suffer.His father had done little right, but impressing the importance of the title was one of the few traits he’d successfully engrained in Wyatt.Ralph too, if they were being honest.
“It’s time you stopped skulking about the shadows and began the hunt for a wife,” Ralph said, as if reading Wyatt’s thoughts.
Wyatt made a soft sound of dissent, a knot settling in his stomach as it always did at the thought of Angela.He believed in the viscountcy up to a point.And that point might be marriage.“I found a bride already, remember?”
The steady back and forth of the horsehair brush stopped as Ralph answered.“You were engaged.Not married.And the fact that she was too foolish to see the wedding through does not mean you should go without an heir.The viscountcy depends on you.”
“I’ve got years to make an heir.”
“Not that way you live.”
Another truth.
But how did one go about courting a woman living as he did?Besides the fact that he bore a large and ugly mark down the left side of his face, he hadn’t the time or the inclination to attend balls, or picnic in the park, or pretend to care about a woman when he didn’t.He doubted he’d ever allow himself to care again.But as he and Ralph had this conversation daily, he didn’t bother to say any of it out loud.“I’ll see to it in time.”
Ralph harrumphed.“You promised that your nighttime activities would not get in the way of your duties.”
“They don’t.”
“An heir is your duty.”
Wyatt pushed out of the chair, determined to dress himself.Ralph was irritating his last unharmed nerve.“I don’t need you to tell me that.”
“Good.”Ralph left the clothes on the bed, and returned to the side table where he’d left the paper.When he came back toward the bed, he laid the sheet next to Wyatt’s clothes.“Then you’ll understand why I insist you attend.”
“Attend what?”But his eyes were already straying to where Ralph’s finger rested.He’d grown used to Ralph’s gruff mothering but as he scanned the words, his mouth dropped open.“You can’t be serious.You want me to answer an ad in the paper for a woman looking for a husband?”
Ralph shrugged.“Why not?Says she’s a lady with a dowry.”
“Because…” Wyatt spluttered, his arms lifting as he forgot sore muscles and tired arms.A dowry was the least of his concerns.“She’s likely?—”
“Scarred?”Ralph said, raising one eyebrow as he looked at Wyatt.
