Mrs. Carter took a step back. Was that a hand on her hip? “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve never peddled anyt’ing. I’m from Villa de la Vega, a town central to Jamaica, not the balls.”
“If you say so, ma’am.” Lord Wycliff winked again. “Perhaps I am confused, your tones… I’ll keep this to myself.”
I wasn’t slow, but the sputtering I heard coming from Mrs. Carter made me laugh out loud. “Cousin, it’s not right to tease.”
Neck shifting, head spinning, the dragon backed up. “I see Mrs. Croome by the refreshment tables. Good day, my lord. Ruth, tell your cousin not to joke so much.”
I’d never known the lumbering woman to move fast, but there she was, tottering away as if the plague had broken out.
Wycliff had defended me. I hadn’t asked him to do that to anyone but my parents.
I was grateful.
Grateful for food and shelter and family and now Wycliff, my new family.
“Shall we continue our walk, Mrs. Wilky?”
He said my name with pride. Today was the first time since my wedding that I’d felt this proud.
I was happy to retake the baron’s arm. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that, but thank you. I did lie once about going to her house when I eloped with Adam. She kept my mother encouraged when I disappeared.”
“One mistake doesn’t equal years of abuse. Besides, I couldn’t resist tweaking her Jamaican nose. They are very prideful of their homeland. Unfortunately, the HMSLiverpoolwas in the East Indies, not the west. My research says Mrs. Carter’s people indeed owned a series of island bawdy houses. Her mother is rumored to be a result of such an encounter.”
“How do you know this?”
“I’m a nosy man. Knowing things is my business, and I was here in enough time to hear Mrs. Carter disparage you.”
“Oh.” It was all I could say. My shock and my gratitude made my head a little dizzy.
“That woman drinks your parents’ raffia, eats their teacakes, and talks ill of you, even with the lovely lady I assume is your mother. Mrs. Carter is a shameful saucebox, a hellish hun.”
The blood stilled in my veins. Then jolted forward and flooded my eardrums. Adam used to make up insults like that. I looked up at Wycliff again, studying his mouth. “When the hun said you were like my mother’s people, does that mean that those lips are inherited from a different free people, like Adam?”
“Noticing my mouth? Is this a new interest? Would you like to examine how it works?”
He was funny, but I sensed his humor was a way to hide.
“If I’m white or mulatto, does it matter? Your sister’s taste in men, and that of her friends, seems to indicate that race does not matter. Your choice of Mr. Marks seems a preference of young Croome women.”
“No. We loved first, then thought about things like that later. For me, I want an honorable and kind man. Someone to be a father to my son and to protect me. That’s my only requirement. Papa has his own ideas. Mama wants to throw a wedding breakfast. If you don’t want to say or if it’s wrong to ask… I want truth in everything. You’ll never know what it’s like to fight to hold on to truth.”
“I know what it’s like to fight to hold on to my dignity and my rights. I know the pressure to give up on hope. Yet, something burned in my chest that didn’t let me give up. I’m thankful for this strength, for my faith. I look at you, standing here in this garden, in your right mind and beautiful and strong. I think we are both blessed.”
The raspy strain in his voice, harsher and hoarser than before, made me sigh. I wondered what horrors he’d lived. What regrets plagued him now?
My hands shook with shame. I’d assumed that since Wycliff looked good on the outside, that he didn’t have pain. I abandoned my resolve not to touch him again and placed a pinkie upon his wrist, where his sleeve exposed his skin.
His arm was rough, bearing evidence of scars. “Sorry.”
“Nothing for you to be sorry about. You are a truth teller, and you know I’m not saying everything. For that, I am sorry.”
We took another silent lap about the party. This had to be the longest I’d been outside.
The world didn’t look so scary in Wycliff’s shadow. I understood he knew pain, probably horror. I found an odd camaraderie in that.
“Honor and kindness are your only preferences for a husband, Mrs. Wilky?”
“Well that, and not a sack of bones. You know how skinny your cousin was.” I sighed. I was more sad than mad about Adam, another first in a long time. “But his kindness won me over. He was very clever.”
