But I still felt that draw, that craving for his embrace, for his furry beard on my face, for his love to surround me, consume me, and burn away the past. “This is too much,Wycliff.”
“You have two days. No more living without you. That’s all I can do. You’re my wife. I want you and Christopher to be with me. It takes two days to secure a signature from the archbishop. I’ll come for you in two days.”
“What of your revenge plot? Will that be done?”
“Uncle Soulden is destined for debtors’ prison. My war will be done.”
“What of Nicholas? Will he pay, too?”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“No, you won’t. You can’t give him what he deserves. Not until I have proof.”
I needed to write to Madame Talease to get her testimony. I needed to give it to Wycliff.
He tried to kiss me, but I made myself stiff in his arms. I couldn’t pretend that his deception hadn’t hurt me. I had thought Wycliff was truth.
“Ruth, send for me.”
“I’ll think on this.” I couldn’t use the name Adam. Adam was dead. He could not be the man who’d made me feel so alive these past weeks.
I ducked into the house and watched him storm away.
Only one person knew the truth. She was my proof. I’d write Madame Talease right away.
…
It rained two days straight. Mama had the windows open, and the perfume of dampness, mud, and rosewater surrounded me in her parlor.
I sat, knitting an ebony scarf. I wanted to give it to Wycliff to cover his horrid scars, but I also wanted to tie it around his throat and strangle him. Strangle him and his secrets.
He was Adam. He was Wycliff.
Mad at the two men who’d claimed to love me, I knitted. Stupid me. The first time in a long time I’d trusted myself, and I’d been cheated again.
And I ached.
Wycliff had heard how much I hated Adam, but I had never mentioned how much I’d loved him.
I had. Those feelings had been forgotten. I should’ve remembered them before Wycliff thought there was nothing good in my memories.
The parlor chairs were in place as if it was Knitting Tuesday, but it was Thursday. All the seats were empty, except Mama’s.
The woman looked unbothered. I must look terrible, falling to pieces.
Clancy brought in the silver service, but only two cups were on it.
“Mama, are Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Daly not coming? What about Mrs. Johnson?”
White mobcap in place, delicate lace shawl slipping down her active arms, my mother shook her head “I didn’t invite them. Just us two.”
Uh oh, that means she wants to talk.
An excuse, where’s an excuse when I need one? Chris running down the stairs, the house is on fire. Ester wanting to hear theater nonsense. Nothing.
Resigned, I bent my head, my glasses slipping to my nose, “Yes, Mama.”
“Ruth, tell me about Lord Wycliff.”
