“You gave them to my mother.”
“Well, she was the only one talking to me. Your sister’s still miffed.”
“Why are you being so sweet? I tossed you out. I was hysterical.”
His hand slipped again to her back. “A dignified sort of hysterical. I’m being sweet because I can be, because you make me want to be sweet to you. If you are still fretting about onlookers, a simple kiss will put all their questions to rest. We’re just a family out for a day of pleasure.”
The word family repeated on her lips. She looked confused and a little fragile.
He made a hearty laugh. “That’s a joke, Mrs. Wilky. I suppose I do too much of that.”
“I think I need to laugh more.”
“Ruth, that’s why we are a good match, but I am your friend. I intend to be one to Christopher. He’s a good boy, an active boy.”
He set the lad down again.
Christopher sat between Wycliff’s legs, swatting the tassel on his boot.
“You don’t have to say, but I want to know. Why did you come back to London? I had heard you were living in the country.”
“I can’t keep up with Chris, not with my poor sight. I needed to be with people. Chris needs a family, a big one.”
Wycliff tightened his hold about her. “Glad to be of service. It’s fine to need people. I need and respect you.”
He looked down at Christopher and put his hand on the lad’s head.
This could be Adam’s son.
This was his son.
This would be his son. “My boy, how is the boat?”
“Good. But no frogs.”
“Christopher, watch how the water bobbles. You, Ruth, close your eyes.”
Her nose wrinkled, but her arm had circled Wycliff’s waist. “Not doing it, sir. I have to watch my Chris frog, even though I know you are observing.”
The dory floated to the center of the Thames. The craft swayed and rocked and made Christopher giggly. Ruth clung so tight to Wycliff, he felt the boning of her corset and loved the heat of her breath on his chin.
“I did not plan this, Ruth. I wish I could take credit for being the manipulative mastermind you think I am, but I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yes, Mama. Water and then frogs.”
“Don’t go hopping, son, until we are on solid ground,” he said. “Agree, Christopher, or no more adventures.”
“Hmmm.What? Water, my lord?”
“Chris,” she said in a stern voice that made the boy stop wiggling, “listen to Lord Wycliff. You mind him, you hear.”
“Yes, Mama.”
The boy frowned, but with the next big wave, he smiled and slobbered.
“I’m not unhappy, either, Lord Wycliff.”
She reached up, knocking at his cravat.
