This was his uncle’s hand. A message—anyone associated with Wycliff, left unprotected, would die. Soulden the blackguard was wounded, but the dog wasn’t done.
Mrs. Johnson lifted her hands to Wycliff. “Ease the credit to Mr. Johnson. Only Wilkinson’s ships can save my husband now.”
Wycliff turned away, fingered the garniture vases above the fireplace, fragile porcelain, easily broken with a shove or a careless hand. “Your husband can’t be saved, not by me. Captain Steward was the only way, and he’s gone. I’ll see to his wife and family.”
The dark-haired beauty began to cry. “You’ll not help? Lord Wycliff, please. Ruth?”
Uncle needed to be put down like a mangy animal before he touched anything else of Wycliff’s. “Your husband knows who is responsible for Steward’s death. I suggest you and Mr. Johnson be very careful.”
The woman wept harder and sputtered words that didn’t sound like a lady, but old Milly-from-the-bawdy house. “Please work on him, Ruth.”
Mrs. Croome set down her empty cup and took Mrs. Johnson’s hand. “You must go. Leave the men’s business to them. It’s the best way.”
The sobbing woman took Mrs. Croome’s arm and left the room.
When the door shut, Wycliff prepared himself to hear Ruth try to change his mind and her disappointment when he refused. There was no changing on this, even for her.
Yet, Ruth said nothing.
Her silence made it harder to breathe. “Say something.”
She rubbed her temples. “It’s true? And Mr. Johnson knows you are destroying his business?”
“Yes. And I’m destroying Soulden Wilkinson. He led the evil that hurt you and Adam.”
“Adam’s uncle? Why does everything come back to him?”
“Ruth, I’ve asked nothing of your business at the brothel. Don’t ask of my business. It’s the only way to protect you.”
“What?”
“Adam failed by involving you. He should’ve finished bringing his uncle and Johnson to justice before taking you as his wife. He thought he could have everything, instead he made you a casualty in his war. You deserve peace, not a war.”
“Does that mean I won’t see you again until you’ve won? I definitely won’t see you, if you lose.”
“You want to see me again, Ruth?”
She sat on the back of the sofa. “Is that all you heard?”
“That’s all I needed to hear. I’ve kept my business separate from you and will continue to do so. You won’t see that side of me. You’ll have Wycliff the man of peace, not the one enforcing judgement.”
She took off her spectacles and set them in her palm. “But peace and war are both you?”
He moved to her, stroking her jaw. She wasn’t fragile. She was strong like bone china and had been tested enough. “We’re good together. I need to see you tomorrow.”
“You want to pretend that Mrs. Johnson wasn’t here. That one of your business associates isn’t dead.”
“Nothing changes by acknowledging this treachery. Captain Steward was a good man who became embroiled with men who don’t play fair. These fiends thrive on weakness. I’m not weak, Ruth. I’m not going to stop living because of their threats. I’ll enjoy every moment. I know everything can change in an hour.”
“I’m to accept that there is one side of you I’ll never see. Have I no choice in this matter?”
He bit at his lip. “I accept you, Ruth. Everything. Even your desire for a friend, a platonic friendship.”
Firm in his decision, he moved to the door. “It was a good day. Send me a note if you want to go for a walk tomorrow.”
Wycliff marched out the door, grabbed up his hat and dashed out the entry.
“Wait.”
