I heard the clink of a decanter and the spilling of a liquid.
“You are right. Many in my family did not approve. For me, knowing how he loved you, I think you perfect.”
“Ruth, he’s flattering you for some nefarious purpose. He doesn’t have the registry. We can stop this and leave.”
Ester was right again, and I hated that. “You don’t have the other half of the document. Please get us a carriage so we can leave you in peace. Peace is the most important thing.”
“Is that all you want? When did you ever give up so easily?” His voice sounded accusatory, but it was better than disbelief.
“I want nothing more.”
The screech of a chair being pulled out sounded behind me. If I had to see him beyond today, his silent footfalls would make me crazed.
“Mrs. Wilky, I know what to do to fix this and give you my protection.”
“But you don’t have the registry.” I pivoted upon the desk to see the big blur of Lord Wycliff sink into a chair. Then I waited for him, this new Wilkinson, to destroy my world again.
Chapter Nine
Ruth’s Proof
Wycliff leaned back in his father’s chair, in the hallowed study of Blaren House where his father had conducted his finance dealings. His wife and his sister-in-law, the disgruntled duo, were in front of him, readying to leave. He needed an offer for them, not a monied transaction, but something that would be agreeable and keep all sides close until Ruth remembered him and their love.
He picked up his glass of brandy and downed it. The liquid scorched his terrible throat and made him growl in his chest. This wasn’t how reunions should go. He’d read Homer’sOdyssey. It was his favorite. Odysseus had been missing for ten years, but he came home to a faithful Penelope. It was four years for him and Ruth, and she was being courted by other men.
It wasn’t fair to hold a vibrant Ruth to vows when she thought him dead, especially how she’d suffered.
But Wycliff had never, ever stopped loving her.
In his head, he’d imagined a reunion beyond some pearly gate. More than once when his frigate had come under attack, he’d thought he’d see her in the morn. He’d welcomed it and had wanted to be locked in her arms again.
Yet, each time he’d lived.
Then his father had secured his release. Wycliff had returned in time to spend the man’s last two months on this earth with him. Together, they’d righted the stolen monies from the recovered ledger, but he hated that his father wouldn’t see Uncle Soulden and Johnson’s downfall.
Ruth receiving her trunk after it had been missing for four years was not a coincidence.
“Shall you keep us in suspense?” She waved her hand at him. The glint shining from the gold band hit him in the eye.
“No, my lord,” Ruth said, “No. Finish your glass. Keep us waiting.”
Feisty.
He spun the crystal glass on the desk. “The country house may have Adam’s personal effects. I will send someone once I’ve settled into Blaren House, but until then, I’m your proof.”
“You’re my proof?”
She bowed her head. Her shoulders slumped, showing every inch of a defeated soul. “Then I’ve lost.”
“You never gave up this easily. I mean, not from all that Adam shared.”
He stared at Ruth. Well-dressed but in a muted color, not the bright hues of their youth. The woman wasn’t in want for anything that he could see, not that she was the type to be enticed by money. How had she survived the attack? What was her life like now?
“This is purgatory,” he said.
“Yes, it has been.”
“No, Mrs. Wilky, that’s what I’m feeling right now. If things had been different, Adam wouldn’t have needed to take the registry in the first place.”
