“I see, Mrs. Wilky. You still don’t trust me?”
“I just met you this week, Lord Wycliff. You’ve studied me and my family. I know nothing of you.”
“It’s enough. It’s more than enough when you just know we are to be friends. I need you to—Lawden’s at the door.”
He lowered his head as if he were pained. “It seems I have to go. I’d like to come for a walk tomorrow.”
My pulse raced. “No. There’s something planned.”
“The next day.”
“Saturday, no, and Sunday’s church.”
“Then Tuesday, it is, cousin. Please, no refusing me, Tuesday, Mrs. Wilky. I haven’t met my little cousin, Christopher.”
I remembered how I dreaded Tuesdays. I thought of how the knitters would act when they saw the baron. And Chris, Chris needed to meet him. “Yes, Tuesday.”
“Look at me, Mrs. Wilky. I cannot wait to be here again. I’ll do what it takes to win your trust fully.”
Against my better judgement, I leaned in, on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, but I missed. I brushed his lips, then his furry dimple stroked my nose. It didn’t feel bad. The opposite of bad.
Mistake.
His Bay Rum scent clung to me as his strong hands returned to my waist.
Bigger Mistake.
I let him.
Part of me wanted to linger like this. I was lucky he had to go.
“I’m loath to leave, Mrs. Wilky.”
“A walk on Tuesday with my son, Lord Wycliff. You’re smart, smart like Adam, but he’d never trick me. He’d never hurt my boy. I’m taking a risk to introduce you to my greatest treasure, my Chris.”
“You’ve always taken risks.” Wycliff’s gray-black eyes bored down upon me. “I’m worth it. I’m sensitive to your predicament. You can trust your friend to protect you.”
He pressed his mouth to my open palm. The heat of his breath burned through my glove down to my damp skin. The softness of his lips on my wrist whispered trouble. “Tuesday, noon, Mrs. Wilky, we begin with another walk.”
Beginnings.
They brought fortunes and dangers. Was knowing Wycliff—mysterious, nosy, sensual Wycliff—worth the bargain?
Everything screamedyes. I clenched the hand he’d kissed to my bosom. “Tuesday. No being late. No new bruises.”
With a larger, wicked smile, he turned, tugged on his hat, and then he and his manservant left.
There was no reason to venture back into the garden party.
My friend was gone. The only person who truly believed in me and Adam had left. Little Christopher didn’t count. He believed in Father Christmas, too.
I unfurled my palm.
And thought of Wycliff returning Tuesday. It couldn’t come fast enough.
Chapter Fifteen
A Walk with Cousin Wycliff
