My baby dreamed of a father. I’d give him one that Wycliff talked of when he described Adam—brave, loyal, loving to me till he died.
Not the Adam I knew—seductive, secretive, steeped in danger.
…
Wycliff arrived outside the Croome house. It should be a good morning for him. His uncle’s business partner, Mr. Johnson, had put out word of more cancelled shipments.
Soon the skeleton crews that ran his cargo would run out of bones. Men didn’t work without pay. Whether a farmer, a sailor, or a henchman, money made things happen.
With Wycliff cutting off their access to financing, the business of his enemies had begun to falter. Their debts were mounting. One by one, Johnson’s and Uncle Soulden’s empires would erupt like match sticks. Those debts would be called. They’d be inmates in debtors’ prison soon.
The deal he’d struck last night with Captain Steward would make the explosion happen faster. It was only a matter of time before bankruptcy. The men who had destroyed his life would spend the rest of theirs in one of the rat-infested jails—Fleet or musty King’s Bench. Perhaps they’d go to the one they’d almost sent Wycliff’s father to, Marshalsea. That one was the worst of the worst, where they charged broke prisoners for leg irons.
Wiping a hand through his hair, he stepped out of the carriage. When he donned his hat, Lawden handed him the basket.
“You don’t look happy, my lord. Every step in your plan is working. And you’ve been invited to see your lady.”
“A wounded animal is never more dangerous. Johnson and Uncle will grow desperate. If I could convince my lady to marry me today, I’d have her better protected, her and the boy.”
Lawden tweaked his cravat. “Then get in there and be convincing, my lord.”
“If I was as convincing as I was yesterday, she’d banish me for sure.”
“Faith accomplishes much.”
Faith was all Wycliff was holding on to when it came to Ruth. He didn’t have much else. Adam was the villain to her. She craved truth, and he, Wycliff, still kept his identity from her.
In the past, he’d thought his secrets had protected his father or Ruth. In the end, he hadn’t even been able to save himself.
She’d erased the Adam she’d loved from her mind. Maybe that was what he deserved. “Do you know what happened to my wife after the attack? Any new information?”
Lawden brushed lint from Wycliff’s onyx cape. “No, my lord. I can find nothing.”
“No signs of Cicely, either. I hate this. I hate not having all the information—not controlling things.”
“That would be where you turn to your faith. Believe in Mrs. Wilky. Believe in your love. Believe that all will work for your good.”
Adjusting his grip on the basket handle, Wycliff started for the entry. “Wish me luck.”
Lawden fixed Wycliff’s high collar. “You have more than luck. You have right on your side.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, my lord, I am. Go convince her that things have changed, except your care.”
That was what he needed to remember. Everything he did now was to fix the past. Making Ruth happy and secure, that was the greatest wrong to right.
He stopped on the top step. Perhaps he was looking at things wrong. She did willingly kiss him. A woman like her didn’t allow such liberties. Just a little more finesse, an inch of yielding, then she’d realize they were meant to be. He could taste her, she was so much a part of him.
The idea of tasting Ruth was a good one.
The door opened.
Clancy took his hat and cape. “I’ll let Mrs. Wilky know you are here.”
“I know.” Ruth’s voice floated from above. “I’ll come down for my cousin.”
Wycliff followed the echo like a happy puppy.
