The baron looked over my head and then maybe to the sky. “Since I’m not a sack of bones, reasonably intelligent, and wish to lavish attention on you like a queen, do I have a chance to deepen our friendship?”
“No more jokes, Lord Wycliff. Let’s find my mother.”
He bit upon the lip I’d begun to admire. “Or let’s find a truly private place to answer your questions. What Mrs. Wilky wants to know, she should know.”
I threaded my hand more tightly about his arm. He headed us toward the house. A wave of happiness skipped through me like my rocks skimming the surface of the fishpond.
We halted, a dead stop in front of my mother.
“Ruth, Mrs. Carter says you have a guest. I’ve been so busy with the party I assumed him a friend of Mr. Marks.”
“No, Mama. This is my friend. This is Lord Wycliff, my late husband’s cousin.”
I tweaked my spectacles and observed the surprise in her countenance. It was small then broke over her face in an unexpected smile. Then I saw the glint in the baron’s eyes as he kissed her hand.
I hadn’t lied.
I hadn’t lied, and now she believed, at least a little. “This was my Tuesday appointment, to meet him.”
“It’s a pleasure finally to greet you, ma’am, and on such a joyous occasion, a lovely garden party. My beautiful cousin was so gracious to invite me.”
I stared at him. Such earnest words. His tone sounded sincere.
“Yes. Yes, Ruth is.” My mama’s small voice was low, barely a whisper.
But I knew her.
Her calm words masked her shock. I reveled in that moment. I wanted to strut in lacy puce slippers and dance with Wycliff spinning me in a crazy waltz. But I stood still and smiled.
“You must come to dinner, Lord Wycliff, sometime next week. My husband has gone inside to rest. He’s still gathering his strength.”
“Yes, from the warehouse fire. I used to love that warehouse. I saw it often from the docks.”
Mama’s face looked different. Something worse than shock, maybe conviction bloomed in that quivering lip. Maybe she was sorry for not believing me. Maybe she could be proud of me for surviving.
“It would be my honor, Mrs. Croome. I intend to see a great deal of Mrs. Wilky these next few weeks. I intend to get to know this part of my family and seek my fair cousin’s advice on decorating my Mayfair townhouse.”
“Mayfair? Yes, if Ruth is up to helping.”
“Mrs. Wilky was going to show me more of your house. I do love the Huguenot architecture.”
“Show him, Ruth.” Mama kissed my cheek and went back to the party.
My joy at her shock disappeared. This couldn’t be this easy.
One word from a man couldn’t be all it took.
I was shaking when Wycliff placed my hand on his arm, livid when he guided my slow steps toward the house, ready to erupt when I saw the dark hall floor under my slippers.
People came inside, stepping around us, but I could go no farther.
Wycliff put his hand to my waist and moved me to the side, into the hall near Papa’s study.
This wasn’t proper, but it felt natural, his hands on me.
His countenance was close. His breathing was as labored as mine. “Let’s let you rest, then go outside onto the street. Privacy for us.”
“The front of the house? No. I’ve had enough of being outside of these walls.”
