He wiped at his face and started out of the carriage.
“Wait, my lord.”
Wycliff turned back.
Lawden again handed him the toy. “Your cousin Nicholas Wilkinson has been to Blaren House twice today. He knows you made a deal with the Captain. He’s talking about old times and friendships, my lord.”
“I can’t think of him or any Wilkinson now.” He passed the toy back. “Tomorrow, with this gift. Tonight, it will look too calculated.”
“Maybe it is time for you to wrap up this intricate courtship. Get the girl and go on a long wedding trip. The things you set in motion will follow through even without you being in London.”
“I won’t run. That gives Uncle Soulden and Johnson a chance to strike. I ran before. Not again. My enemies stole the life and care Ruth should have had. Not again.”
Lawden adjusted Wycliff’s collar. “Good, my lord. Then go in and win the woman and the boy.”
His man made it sound so simple. Perhaps it was.
“Thank you, my friend.”
Wycliff exited the carriage and pounded up the steps.
As he entered, a young woman came toward Clancy, cradling her pregnant middle.
“Mrs. Johnson, I’ll see about your carriage.” The butler stepped out the door.
She stared in Wycliff’s direction.
“Do I know you, ma’am?”
“No, but I’ve heard of you, Lord Wycliff. I’m Mrs. Loftus Johnson. My husband is in shipping.”
Mr. Croome’s business dealings were as tangled as Wycliff’s. He was a perfect match to this family. He nodded and moved toward the stairs. Family of enemies were off-limits. They weren’t responsible for their husband’s dealings.
“You know the name, Lord Wycliff. He’s in a bit of bad straights.”
Of course, he knew the name. Loftus Johnson’s wealth came from his dealings with Uncle Soulden. The men were thieves. They were tightly knit. They were dirty. Because of Wycliff’s plans, they were both facing debtors’ prison.
“I’m sorry you are distressed, ma’am.”
She played with a shiny black tendril curling about her milky face. “He’s mighty desperate. I don’t know what he’ll do. What if I knew where a ledger was? Would that buy help?”
Wycliff had copied two of Uncle’s ledgers. One he’d hidden in his father’s study, the other in Ruth’s trunk. This second book had more of the men’s dirty dealings and the false entries that had placed blame on Wycliff’s father.
But dead men served no prison time. Wycliff didn’t need the second copy for his plans to succeed.
“What are you asking, Mrs. Johnson?”
“I know Ruth from a long time ago. I have the book now.”
His gut was a dangerous thing—so was a woman bent on proving something. Lawden’s earlier information on Croome’s business associates should prove handy.
“I congratulate you. You were one of Madame Talease’s girls? Old Milly, done come up.”
Her cheery face froze.
She must not be used to people identifying her from her former life at the brothel. Ruth’s trunk must have ended up at Madame Talease’s. Miss Milly must have stolen it from her at the bawdy house.
The attractive woman blinked her luminous blue eyes a dozen times before any words came to her lips. “I have. I’d appreciate it if you keep that to yourself.”
