“You mean one of those men from last night?”
“Let’s not talk of this, Ruth. It’s not theater talk.”
“My poor Wycliff, you don’t need someone to tell you how stupid that was. You need care.” I settled against him, looping my arm about his tense one.
“He took me off guard. That won’t happen again.”
“I can contact Madame Talease. She would know if Cicely has been taken in. She knows the underbelly of the city.”
“No. No more thinking of brothels. That’s part of that list of things we don’t talk of. We have an appointment at the theater.” He kissed my fingers. “Tell me how you missed me.”
I had to try again. I could help, and I started rubbing his arm. “Lord Wycliff, I can be of help with a number of things. I know Madame Talease.”
“That’s not theater talk. The theater, my dear. We go and enjoy. Tonight, we pretend to be normal people out for entertainment.”
“It’s never a normal occasion for a Blackamoor to be out in Society on the arm of a peer.”
“Well, we should change that. London will have to get used to my good taste in ladies.”
I wanted to ask what had happened last night, the names of the voices, to see if my mind recalled things right, but I didn’t. Nothing mattered about the past as long as no one threatened him anymore. We had to survive the theater.
Raising his arms to stretch, he kicked out his legs. “Are you a free woman yet, Ruth? I’d love to come out of the shadows with this affair we are having, especially since it seems other women and bawdy houses upset you.”
He twiddled his sjambok and lay it across his lap. He’d had it last night when he’d gone out to meet the loud visitors. Now he had it in the carriage.
My reticule hung from my arm. I was ready, too.
I tweaked my spectacles and examined Wycliff. Handsome in an ivory damask waistcoat, a crisply-starched cravat and shirt, in a very fine dark tailcoat under his mysterious cape.
His sore arm flexed against me. A second glance at his face revealed a tight jaw.
This jovial manner was a disguise. “You can tell me. I know you are upset. This is more than a bawdy house.”
“You were always perceptive. You always knew…when Adam was bothered.”
For a moment, Wycliff was more Adam, more the high-strung boy in want of a brawl.
“I think that you needn’t stare but rest those eyes. Please feel free to hand those spectacles over to me at any time.”
“Is this how it will go? You always shielding me from darkness?”
“You are my lady of the light. Tonight, you shine—no frets, nothing to be concerned about. No need to look for trouble.”
“What did you say?”
“That you must be mine.”
“No, Wycliff, before that?”
“Lady of the light.”
“Adam used to say that.”
“Is that bad?”
I put my head carefully on Wycliff’s shoulder. I didn’t want him hurt. “No.”
“No one should face what you two did. You should be loved again.”
