Flailing, Nicholas tried to punch at Wycliff, but no one could stop a man who had every right to kill his enemy. Nonetheless, Wycliff promised his father to never use his hands to kill. This show of strength was to prove a point.
Nicholas dropped his palms to the tiles then went still. “Can’t…breathe.”
“I gave you one hit. Did you feel powerful doing it yourself? I should let you die now for striking a peer.”
Nicholas’s motions—the wild swinging of his arms—stopped when Wycliff stiffened his sjambok.
When he felt the fool might pass out, he relented and stood. “Captain, take him out of here.”
Gasping, Nicholas wobbled to his feet, wrenching at his neck, rubbing at the marks, ones that would go away. “I couldn’t go against my father. Maybe you and I can make a deal. Maybe you and I can partner.”
“My blessed mother, she was a poet, you know. Her words stay with me.A son can slay, a fool can die, a stupid man, not am I.Thieves have no partners, Nickie, just dupes they’ve yet to injure.”
Pawing at his neck, Nicholas undid his cravat. “Maybe there’s something we can give you.”
Wycliff’s thoughts tossed between Cicely and Ruth, but he kept his face blank. “There’s nothing you have except Uncle meeting Nacknel’s fate. No extension of credit from any bank until all your debts are paid.”
“We’ll be ruined.I’llbe ruined.”
“Send your father to jail. Have him rot for his debts. He needs to wake up every day with no hope. That’s what you did to me. That was the pain you gave to my father.” Wycliff cracked his sjambok. It made a thunderous echo in the bare hall. “Be gone.”
“The money he and Johnson took—it’s gone. There’s nothing to return.”
The captain dragged his cousin toward the door. “Let’s go. Your father will find a way. He always does.”
The fearful look on Nicholas’s face, with that mole bulging, foretold that he didn’t think Uncle Soulden could get out of the trap that had been sprung. Or that Soulden’s way out would be bloody.
“Wycliff, I know of something you want.”
Twiddling his fingers, Wycliff waited. “Make it good. I love a good rumor.”
“I don’t know if it’s true—”
“Nickie, don’t waste my time. You have nothing. I don’t follow fools’ leads. Use this opportunity to be your own man. Start over. Conduct your business ethically. You’ll sleep better. You’ll be an example for that son you keep in the shadows.”
“You said you could reason with him.” The captain slugged Nicholas’s shoulder. “I’ll not be beaten out on the docks, like Nacknel. You’re on your own, Wilkinson.”
His cousin chased after the captain but stopped at the entry. “Don’t touch my son. He’s a good boy. He needs to grow up and be better than us.”
True.
Wycliff would never hurt an innocent person, especially a child, but he needed his cousin to think him dangerous and a match to their cruelty. “Then don’t force my hand, Nickie. Send Uncle my greetings. Shut the door on him, Lawden.”
Wycliff waited for the door to be barred then started toward his study. He touched his stinging face, right under the eye socket. “Well, that’s a new way to start the day, Lawden, dispensing enemies.”
“It’s dispatching enemies, my lord. You’ve won. Wilkinson seems a broken man.”
“Dispensing as in advice, Lawden. A wounded dog still has teeth.”
“Did your mother really make that poem?”
“No. But it sounded bold, didn’t it? She was a much better poet, but she did warn about dogs and teeth.” Wycliff slipped his sjambok through his palm. It wasn’t done striking out. He could feel it.
“The good news is they don’t have Cicely, for Nickie would have said so for leverage. The bad news is that Nickie might be aware of Mrs. Wilky but isn’t sure.”
“You know that face of yours is going have a bruise when you go courting your wife.”
Lawden was right. Wycliff had more to be concerned about. He had to make sure that Nickie never located Ruth. She must never be at risk. That meant Wycliff would have to ensure his Thursday visit with Ruth wasn’t his last.
