The Bewildered Bride (Advertisements for Love)

by Vanessa Riley

  “No.” My sister said, her tone simmering in frustration, the way she did when Papa teased. “There was too much happening.”

  “Ladies, I apologize again for how I received you. I used an awful jest to make my enemies think nothing of you.”

  That sounded sincere, even reasonable, given this was Adam’s relative.

  “But you were seen. Until I’m assured you’re safe, I’m obligated to see to your protection, to our family’s protection.”

  This time, I sighed and bit my tongue. “Ouch.”

  His hands went to my face. “Are you well, ma’am?” There was more gravel and husk to his voice. “Where does it hurt? Let me make it better.”

  The flirt was examining me like those physicians Mama paid to come to Fournier Street. But this touch was different. I was a treasure, not the negress specimen some were loath to be near. “My head aches.”

  “Oh, we can’t have that, my dear. May I touch your neck again?”

  “You’re already touching me.”

  “I suppose I am, but I want to make sure it’s allowed. I’m still on shaky ground with my poor greeting.”

  “Yes, you are, but do what you can. The tension won’t relent sometimes.”

  “I accept the challenge.”

  Gnarled and slow was his speech, but I felt him grinning at me. I didn’t care, not the way his hands eased the pain.

  His fingers made faster motions, big circles at the nape of my neck.

  The pressure, the urge to vomit eased. “To bring such relief. Grin away.”

  He laughed, the rumble low and throaty.

  “Ruth, make him let you alone. We can’t trust him.”

  Was he taking liberties?

  Perhaps, but it seemed his fingertips knew where the pain was, and he’d chosen to rid me of it. “Hush, Ester.”

  “Ruth, Wycliff’s staring at you like a dog hungry for a bone.”

  “Are you staring…like that?”

  “Hmm. Yes. Yes, I am. You are lovely. One doesn’t see such works of art at the mercantile ports. I’ve been a seaman for a while. Only London has such beauties. Here, you can wear your hair uncovered, something not done often in the Indies.”

  One of his gifted fingers again traced the scar at my temple.

  That was the only lasting reminder of the truth about me and Adam.

  Shame filled me.

  My cheeks heated. I caught his hands. “I’m feeling better. You can stop.”

  “Sister, why are you giving comfort to this cretin? Bed wenches, he called us.”

  Ester was at my side, maybe looking around Wycliff’s shoulder. That image brought me a chuckle. “I’m not a bed wench, and neither are you. You say all the time it doesn’t matter what others say. How different is this?”

  “We are here to learn about Adam Wilky, not to let a blowhard touch my sister’s face.”

  Wycliff sat with a thud on the desk. “I know everything of Adam, Mrs. Wilky. I’m sorry for your loss, for everything.”

  Done with everyone’s pity, I clenched the edge of the desk. “I only want the truth.”

  “Of course, ma’am. Ask anything.”

  That was one of those open-for-interpretation responses. The man was flirting, but I was immune to such passions. My reticule remained looped on my wrist. I risked Wycliff’s ripping my proof, but I needed to hear his reaction. “This is my half of our marriage registry.”

  “Our marriage registry?”

  “You know what I mean. Mine and Adam’s.”

  He put his hand on it and mine. “May I?”

  For a second, maybe more, this was Adam in front of me—same height, same way of hovering, and asking permission. But my Adam was dead, and this was a mere relative, a copy.

  “Lord Wycliff, it’s all I have of Adam, but you can see that this is valid. Do you have the other half?”

  “I’ve seen it. It was sent here four years ago. I don’t know where it is now.”

  So close.

  So close, and I’d lost again.

  My Job’s luck won. Well, no boils or falling roofs with this judgment. I’d walk out of here the way I came, without that smidgeon of hope the registry had offered.

  In my head, I recited my gifts, my blessings—Chris, a home, clothes, food, the kind barrister, knitting.

  Still, my face felt wet. This loss undid me.

  “Why are you crying, Mrs. Wilky?”

  “I’ve come. I came out of the house. And you don’t have it.”

  “I see. I wish I had everything that you needed.”

  Could a raspy masculine voice hold such melancholy? Lord Wycliff’s did, and it tugged on me.

  With my thumbs, I smeared the tears on my cheeks then wiped them on my shawl. My poor Christopher. Nothing will change the gossip about him now.

  Digging into my reticule, I tried to finger a handkerchief, but Lord Wycliff put one in my hand. “I haven’t been believed for four years. No…no friends or family. No one. And you saw Adam’s half. You said it so soft and easy, like I’d asked about the weather. But you don’t have it.”

  “Sister, I’m sorry.” Ester’s voice was heavy, and she clasped my shoulder.

  “Ma’am, there is nothing soft or easy about me. I’ve been away for a long time. The letter could be anywhere. You’ve kept the registry all these years. You still love Adam?”

  “What? What kind of question is that? Hand it back.” I flailed my arms. I must’ve looked wild.

  “Here.” He slipped the paper against my palm.

  I took my time and folded the registry like a precious pinafore, then slid it into my reticule. “I didn’t have this until two weeks ago. It was sent to me.”

  “Two weeks? Mrs. Wilky, someone had the registry for four years and just sent it two weeks ago?”

  “Yes. That’s what I’m saying. Your belief turns to disbelief quickly, too?”

  “No. I’ll believe anything you say. I can tell you are a woman of honor. You’re guided by your heart. That’s what Adam believed.”

  That used to be me, but I couldn’t be guided by what I didn’t have. “What’s with your voice? The remains of a dry cough? An injury?”

  “An injury. All wars have costs.”

  England’s wars had injured and maimed so many. “Sorry.” I laid both hands flat upon the desk and turned toward the direction I heard his voice. “What relation are you to Adam?”

  “We were close…like brothers. He told me everything about the woman he loved, Ruth Croome. You love daisies. You think your middle name, Elizabeth, makes you feel like a queen.”

  Adam’s words. At least Adam couldn’t tell Lord Wycliff that he was dead because we’d returned to see my parents. My fault. I pushed the guilt into the back of my mind. It needed to stay there.

  “You have one beloved sister. I believe Adam said you described her as perfect and sheltered.”

  I wanted to laugh at the memory, but now this felt like another violation. Adam had given away their privacy. “Adam had no brother. Who are you?”

  Ester grabbed my hand. “This is parlor games, Ruth. He’s speaking in riddles. It’s obvious he’s a cousin.”

  “I share Adam’s bloodline. I’m related to you by marriage. The concern you hear in my terrible voice is for you and all my new relations, the Croome family. The men responsible for harming you and Adam were never brought to justice.”

  “Harm? Adam was murdered. He was horribly killed, and I watched him die.”

  “Then you understand why I must protect you. I’m honor bound to do so.”

  “Ruth, how can we trust him? He’s crazed. He threw you over his shoulder.”

  Ester was right in a lot of ways. Logical in her assessment. But the rebel inside me didn’t want logic. I wanted vindication. “You say you were close to Adam. He never spoke of you.”

  “I suspect he didn’t say enough about a great many subjects.”

  That truth stung, hitting hard at my empty chest. “Well, I didn’t come for a
reunion. I’m aware that Adam’s family did not approve of him marrying me. He said that it was him choosing his mother’s heritage over his father’s.”

  I heard the clink of a decanter and the spilling of a liquid.

  “You are right. Many in my family did not approve. For me, knowing how he loved you, I think you perfect.”

  “Ruth, he’s flattering you for some nefarious purpose. He doesn’t have the registry. We can stop this and leave.”

  Ester was right again, and I hated that. “You don’t have the other half of the document. Please get us a carriage so we can leave you in peace. Peace is the most important thing.”

  “Is that all you want? When did you ever give up so easily?” His voice sounded accusatory, but it was better than disbelief.

  “I want nothing more.”

  The screech of a chair being pulled out sounded behind me. If I had to see him beyond today, his silent footfalls would make me crazed.

  “Mrs. Wilky, I know what to do to fix this and give you my protection.”

  “But you don’t have the registry.” I pivoted upon the desk to see the big blur of Lord Wycliff sink into a chair. Then I waited for him, this new Wilkinson, to destroy my world again.

  Chapter Nine

  Ruth’s Proof

  Wycliff leaned back in his father’s chair, in the hallowed study of Blaren House where his father had conducted his finance dealings. His wife and his sister-in-law, the disgruntled duo, were in front of him, readying to leave. He needed an offer for them, not a monied transaction, but something that would be agreeable and keep all sides close until Ruth remembered him and their love.

  He picked up his glass of brandy and downed it. The liquid scorched his terrible throat and made him growl in his chest. This wasn’t how reunions should go. He’d read Homer’s Odyssey. It was his favorite. Odysseus had been missing for ten years, but he came home to a faithful Penelope. It was four years for him and Ruth, and she was being courted by other men.

  It wasn’t fair to hold a vibrant Ruth to vows when she thought him dead, especially how she’d suffered.

  But Wycliff had never, ever stopped loving her.

  In his head, he’d imagined a reunion beyond some pearly gate. More than once when his frigate had come under attack, he’d thought he’d see her in the morn. He’d welcomed it and had wanted to be locked in her arms again.

  Yet, each time he’d lived.

  Then his father had secured his release. Wycliff had returned in time to spend the man’s last two months on this earth with him. Together, they’d righted the stolen monies from the recovered ledger, but he hated that his father wouldn’t see Uncle Soulden and Johnson’s downfall.

  Ruth receiving her trunk after it had been missing for four years was not a coincidence.

  “Shall you keep us in suspense?” She waved her hand at him. The glint shining from the gold band hit him in the eye.

  “No, my lord,” Ruth said, “No. Finish your glass. Keep us waiting.”

  Feisty.

  He spun the crystal glass on the desk. “The country house may have Adam’s personal effects. I will send someone once I’ve settled into Blaren House, but until then, I’m your proof.”

  “You’re my proof?”

  She bowed her head. Her shoulders slumped, showing every inch of a defeated soul. “Then I’ve lost.”

  “You never gave up this easily. I mean, not from all that Adam shared.”

  He stared at Ruth. Well-dressed but in a muted color, not the bright hues of their youth. The woman wasn’t in want for anything that he could see, not that she was the type to be enticed by money. How had she survived the attack? What was her life like now?

  “This is purgatory,” he said.

  “Yes, it has been.”

  “No, Mrs. Wilky, that’s what I’m feeling right now. If things had been different, Adam wouldn’t have needed to take the registry in the first place.”

  “Ruth, Lord Wycliff is stalling, no doubt for some nefarious purpose.”

  “Can’t I merely be reveling in the memories of Adam and the woman he loved? Mrs. Wilky, has your sister always been so cynical?”

  “I’m not cynical,” Mrs. Bexeley said. “I’m suspicious. Let’s forget about the registry and him and go home. Home is safe.”

  “Your sister is right. I don’t have the other half. In a few weeks, once I’ve settled my business affairs, I’ll be dedicated to finding this paper. I will get it for you.”

  Her lips lifted then floundered. “I won’t be able to stall the barrister much longer. He’s asked me to marry him. I wanted proof before I accept his offer. I need to go into a new marriage with all the questions of Adam’s honorable intentions resolved.”

  Her sister frowned, “Barrister Marks proposed? You didn’t say.”

  “I told him I needed time to think it over, to see if it was right for me.”

  Sitting on a proposal and doubting my intentions?

  No. No to marrying someone else and no to doubting my love.

  No marriage. Not over my body, dead or alive.

  Barely able to contain the fury sweeping over him, he tapped his desk again, his finger drawing Ns for never, never going to give her up, never. It took all his strength to not leap up and confess. “Adam had a sister. She lived here. She would know exactly where his possessions were stored, but she’s missing.”

  Ruth’s soulless eyes gained a sparkle brighter than the crystal sconces lining the study. “He did have a sister. Cicely’s missing?”

  “You remember her? Yes, I’m hunting for her. She was upset at their father’s passing and went to stay with friends.” Cicely was livid that their father had kept the fact that Wycliff was alive a secret. Their father hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up, if release from the impressment could not be secured. “I’m her guardian. I received word of her disappearance from school two weeks ago.”

  Ruth put her hands to her scar. “Two weeks? My trunk appeared two weeks ago.”

  The look on Ruth’s face matched his concern that the incidents were linked to the Wilkinson’s unfinished war. “If you could wait until I find her, if you postpone things—”

  “No. My plans are my plans.”

  What Ruth wanted, she always possessed. “Then I am your proof. I can attest to your marriage. I will convince everyone who doubted.”

  Ruth’s brow creased. Her lips parted, and he was entranced.

  “Yes, Mrs. Wilky. Think on it. I can attest to the great love Adam had for you.”

  “But you must be busy. And the search for Cicely—”

  “Cicely, she’s a sweet girl, such a gentle nature, but she can be thoughtless. I’m sure she’ll turn up. And I might need your advice about being a guardian to a young girl. Adam said that you were clever on so many things.”

  “I know how Adam loved his sister. She was sent away for her protection. He’d be crazed if he thought her lost. If I had known how to contact her, I would’ve befriended her. I’ll pray for her recovery.”

  The way Ruth’s voice trembled made him feel horrible. He didn’t think she’d be so moved, but Ruth was his other half, of course she’d fear for Cicely. “Adam would want your situation resolved and his sister located. I can do both. When can we meet again?”

  “We?” Mrs. Bexeley started waving her hand, as if she were directing birds in flight. “No. No. Her and you? My sister and wild whip man? No.”

  “It’s a sjambok, Mrs. Bexeley. And I held it low, not intending to strike them, just to put fear in their hearts.”

  “Well, it worked on mine. Ruth, you can’t be involved with him. This is dangerous. You can’t do anything dangerous. Your eyesight is too poor. You have fits. This is the first time you’ve ventured from Nineteen Fournier for something other than church or a doctor in two years.”

  The grimace forming on Ruth’s face made the sister jump back. “It’s wild, something a willful spirit would do. Lord Wycliff, we live at Nineteen Fournier near Cheapside.”
r />   “Ruth, this crazy peer—”

  “Baron, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Bexeley tiptoed back to Ruth. “Sorry. But this crazy baron shouldn’t be around you. Your nerves are bad.”

  The door to the study opened. Lawden came inside and bowed. “My lord, you have an appointment.”

  Wycliff moved from his seat and stood between the sisters and his trusted aid. “Prepare the carriage and take these ladies to Cheapside. And look outside. Mrs. Wilky has lost a pair of spectacles.”

  Ruth nodded. “Nineteen Fournier is in the old Spitalfields part of Town. And thank you for looking for my spectacles.”

  “It shall be done.” Lawden backed out the door.

  “It will take a few minutes for my man to bring things around. While we wait, is there anything you’d like to know about Adam?”

  Ruth looked down, never up or at him, not that she could see him. “Why was he so secretive of his name, even to me? I hate that he didn’t trust me with the truth.”

  Wycliff hated that he’d done that, too, but that was how he’d navigated the world. Loving Ruth hadn’t been part of his plans.

  Sidestepping the sisters, Wycliff scooped up his ebony cape and put it about Ruth’s shoulders. “He had his reasons. I’m sure if he’d lived, he would’ve told you all.”

  “At lease he completed the registry with his true name. I can take comfort that he didn’t go to such lengths just to invalidate our union.”

  That was what she thought.

  No. Never.

  He opened his mouth to confess, but how would she react when she already had so many doubts of his character? He fixed the collar of the cape, taking a chance to finger her falling curls. “He had his reasons. Perhaps as we reminisce, we can discover what they were. When may I see you again?”

  Mrs. Bexeley grabbed her sister’s arm. “We need to be out of here, Ruth. This is not what you want. There’s enough to fret about with my husband giving his abolition speeches or Papa’s business. Must you fret over ghosts, too? Do you, Lord Wycliff, want that for her? Would Adam?”

  He didn’t want Ruth in danger, but she was. The person who sent the trunk knew of her existence. That already put her in danger. He helped Ruth down from the desk but couldn’t resist leaving his hands about her waist.