Mama cut him a sharp look, and he lifted his hands. “That was a joke, Mrs. Croome.” He stepped closer to Ruth. “I would like you to have these. Try them for the night. See if they fit. Diamonds for a diamond.”
“Good night, Lord Wycliff, Ruth.” Mama looked back one more time then left the parlor. I think she was grinning.
Wycliff held up the necklace and twirled it. “Your neck is lovely, would you do me the honor of wearing these?”
“No. Not the necklace.” The words spilled out fast, too fast, but the thought of having something about my throat was too much. “Sorry. I haven’t worn any necklaces since Adam.”
“I’m not good with things about my neck, either.”
I poked at the eardrops, watching the shimmer of the gold, the fire of the jewels. “Are they an heirloom? Did they belong to yours or Adam’s mother?”
“No.” He was silent for a moment. “All she had has been looted, ransomed off to pawns.”
He lowered the necklace onto the satin and helped me put on the eardrops.
“These are new. Something I had crafted after the garden party.”
“Why? And why then?”
He fingered the arch of my throat. “I noted how lovely and lonely your neck looked.”
“It’s a bribe?”
“Yes, and I need something to pretend to look at as I stare at you tonight. Shall we leave?”
I put the box on the table. “It will be fine to stare at me. I’ll stare at you. You’ll be the only thing in focus.”
He took my arm and led me to the door.
It seemed like a lifetime passed to get my shawl and gloves, his hat and cape, then we descended to his carriage. My hesitation lessened. I’d become better at going outside, but only with Wycliff.
It was dark, but the baron had a lantern lit. The minute the carriage moved and we were away from Nineteen Fournier, he jumped onto the seat next to me.
I bumped his arm.
The big man winced.
My fingers were on his shoulder before I could stop myself. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
He stilled my hands then drew each palm to his lips. “Good to know you care.”
“What happened? Don’t spare me. I’m not fragile when it comes to your safety.”
“You are a rosebud but made of the strongest metal. You are a survivor.”
“Then tell me what happened. It wasn’t the men from last night.”
“No. I met a disgruntled patron at a brothel.”
“You went to a brothel?” A sick feeling went to my throat. It burned, but what should I expect? Wycliff had accepted a platonic arrangement.
Logic didn’t matter. I was ill.
Wycliff lifted my chin. “I see you care a lot more. Let me answer what you won’t ask. Lawden received a tip about a girl matching Cicely’s description. It wasn’t. I interrupted a peer, an earl with particular tastes and a willing participant. I did not go for my own gratification.”
“You didn’t. I mean, it wasn’t Cicely?”
He started to laugh. “It was actually stupid to go. It was an in-town brothel, but it could’ve been a trap by one of my disgruntled associates.”
