“Do you like?” His heavy graveled voice sent tingles down my skin worse than a feather’s tickle.
“It’s not very ladylike to admit that.”
“Ruth, it’s honest.”
“Then yes, very much so.”
If smiles could be lazy and unbothered and beautiful, his was.
When I squinted at him again, he frowned. “What, my lord?”
“Your head is hurting again.”
“Any time I wear these spectacles long.”
“Then take them off.”
“Lord Wycliff, there’s too much to see.”
“This shouldn’t be your only outing here. Your barrister should take you and Christopher often. That little boy loves it here.”
“I’ll mention it.” If I saw him again.
“You’re so beautiful today. You dressed for him?”
“Yes, but he had to work.”
“That’s a recurring theme. Something that ends with my gaining, then I do something to upset you.”
“You’ve done nothing today. You’ve been perfect.”
His smile returned, brilliant, even toothy. He reached over, took my spectacles, and put them in his pocket. “Close your eyes.”
I did as he requested.
I trusted him.
His hands were at the back of my skull. His palms were rough against my cheeks, and I smelled food: the baked bread and mustardy shaved meat.
“The eye is a muscle. It can hurt when overworked.”
“There’s a lot to see.”
“You have a nose, two ears, a mouth, skin, lovely skin. They should work more.”
“How does one enjoy Vauxhall without seeing it?”
Wycliff knelt behind me, his fingers dancing along the nape of my neck. “You have a beautiful set of shoulders.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
His hands stayed on me, stroking circles. “Now listen to the music. Remember the band up in the stand. Can’t you hear their music?”
“You’re going to sing?”
“I’m trying to get rid of your headache, not make it worse. Just listen.”
The rumble in his laugh was dark and delicious. I leaned back against him and felt his chest vibrating from his hoarse hum. The heavy ticking of his heart sounded better than my favorite clock. “Yes, this is good.”
