His sore arm flexed against me. A second glance at his face revealed a tight jaw.
This jovial manner was a disguise. “You can tell me. I know you are upset. This is more than a bawdy house.”
“You were always perceptive. You always knew…when Adam was bothered.”
For a moment, Wycliff was more Adam, more the high-strung boy in want of a brawl.
“I think that you needn’t stare but rest those eyes. Please feel free to hand those spectacles over to me at any time.”
“Is this how it will go? You always shielding me from darkness?”
“You are my lady of the light. Tonight, you shine—no frets, nothing to be concerned about. No need to look for trouble.”
“What did you say?”
“That you must be mine.”
“No, Wycliff, before that?”
“Lady of the light.”
“Adam used to say that.”
“Is that bad?”
I put my head carefully on Wycliff’s shoulder. I didn’t want him hurt. “No.”
“No one should face what you two did. You should be loved again.”
“Says the man who wants me to marry him but has not told me what he feels.”
He threaded his fingers with mine. “My father used to say something about actions shouting and the cheapness of words. Or was that my mother, the poet?”
“Easily said for the man who likes danger and carries a whip.”
“Tonight, I will show you more of the pleasures of the world that Adam was too stupid to appreciate. We can discuss my whip later.”
“I don’t need to be swayed by your wealth. My family has means.”
“Yes, they do. That’s why peers dip into the merchant class for brides like you, with dowries, like your barrister. Excuse me, your former barrister.”
“Marriages of convenience are common, even among peers.”
“As I said in your father’s study, our marriage shouldn’t be of convenience but of passion, lots of passion.”
“Passion can be scary. It can be violent. I don’t want that.”
Wycliff kissed me on the nose. “You are wearing me down, Ruth. You are going to make me a eunuch. I’m almost to the point of breaking and agreeing to a marriage of convenience. But I am going to stay strong for you. Strong and irresistible.”
I touched my temples.
“What is wrong?”
“I’ve strained too much trying to stare at you. Why must you be so fascinating? What will you do when my vision finally fades?”
He put his hand about my back and drew me to him.
“Wycliff, I’ve never admitted that I’m frightened by it. I don’t let myself wallow or be angry. I know that you are trying to bring justice to those who hurt Adam. I figured that out when I heard those voices last night, those familiar voices.”
Wycliff turned away and stayed silent.
Had I upset him? I had crossed that invisible line about not talking about his business.
“Ruth, I will see them tonight before intermission. I will be safe in this public place. It’s the only way to keep them from Blaren House or Fournier.”
My chest pounded, but I held on to my composure. Wycliff had just shared his deepest concerns. He thought me strong enough to know.
I wrapped my arms about him and gently tucked him to my bosom. “Don’t wrinkle my gown. I want to look well on Lord Wycliff’s arm.”
“This deep blue is so lively. So sweet on your figure.”
He traced the long scar on my face. “This wound, blunt and jagged, was caused by a heavy blow. It almost killed you. It’s surely responsible for the decline of your vision. But that didn’t stop you. There is such strength in you.”
My nails dug into his shoulders. I stayed away from his neck. I’d seen him wince once too often when Chris hugged him there. “Nice of you to notice.”
“What doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger?”
“You keep sounding like Adam.”
“Ruth, never doubt how strong you are. I desire your strength, but if I keep something from you, it’s not because I don’t trust you.”
“I want to help. I want to be someone you can count on, Wycliff.”
“Because you are falling in love with me, Ruth?”
I didn’t know what I felt, but it was deep and strong, and it scared me. It was as if I’d known him forever, but we’d known each other barely three weeks. “Maybe.”
“I have to keep working until you are desperately in love.” He kissed my nose again. “I do understand you, Ruth. I think you understand me.”
Listening to him breathe, that raspy, throaty noise, I closed my eyes and enjoyed this simple moment.
I purposed to be present right now and enjoy it. For no one could keep all the dangers away. Not even Wycliff.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A Dangerous Intermission
Wycliff’s neck was wet with perspiration as he sat in the small darkened theater box with Ruth.
It was perfect. An intimate setting. They even sat in the rear so no one could see them—no flintlocks, no angry relatives to barge in upon them.
Ruth looked perfect. A dark-blue gown that fit her well. He’d grown used to her long sleeves. Not much opportunity to touch her skin, but that might be dangerous.
He glanced at her again. From the upsweep of her hair, the lovely long neck, she was his Ruthy, wearing his jewels on her luscious lobes. Soon, a matching ring would be on her finger…again.
Yes. He was hot and bothered. His thick collar, combined with the warm Drury Theater air, was abominable. The battle stewing inside was worse.
The war he’d been trying to keep from Ruth would soon be outside of his box.
At least this was a public place, but Spencer Perceval, the Prime Minister, had been shot in public, murdered. Should he tell Ruth the truth of Adam, in case… No. Then she’d hate two men.
He filled his lungs. Eased his shoulders. His sjambok was at his feet.
His men were observing. They were armed, too.
“Lord Wycliff. This meeting has you deeply concerned.”
“Yes, but the soprano is not singing the part as well as she should. That’s more concerning.”
“The more you joke, the more you are hiding. Adam used to do the same thing. Very annoying.”
“We are two of a kind. Maybe that’s why I am dedicated to you. You are quite lovely in bold colors.” He leaned over and fingered the lace trim edging the bodice. “Not an inch of your gown is wrinkled. I was good.”
She rolled her eyes, but a blush stained her cheeks. He edged closer. “You are stunning. And a challenge. This is good for me, I like challenges.”
Wait. Was that a Ruthy toothy grin?
It was, and it confirmed everything he knew to be true. Keep her laughing and happy. Then all would be fine.
The music grew louder. The first intermission would commence in half an hour. The corridor behind him would fill with witnesses. Nothing bad would happen in Drury Lane but the singing.
He relaxed, letting the music invade the tension in his muscles. The tendons of his hand stretched to the tempo. Even the battered cords in his throat, the ones that missed singing, vibrated.
This meeting would have no tricks. This wasn’t four years ago. He and his Ruthy weren’t running. She was safe. Wycliff wouldn’t fail this time.
Ruth fidgeted in her chair. She rubbed her temples. That was a telltale sign of a headache. Her new glasses hadn’t solved the problem. He hated that for her. “Ruth, can I help?”
“No.”
She took off her spectacles and cupped her hand to her face. The woman was gorgeous and miserable.
He fingered her ear, then her neck. “Will you refuse every gift for this tempting throat?”
She squinted and shrugged. “I don’t like things that can be ripped or stolen. I needn’t draw attention to thieves.
Exasperated, lovely, and miserable. Then he remembered she’d been at th
e first battle of his war. He cringed at the costs to her.
“You like the theater, my lord? Adam used to talk of going with his father. I suppose you love it, too? My sister and her husband do. Your future baroness will need to love this.”
“You’re back to being against me, Ruth? All because I love the theater? I can make it better. Do you trust me?”
Her wide eyes blinked, then she offered him a lazy nod. “As much as you trust me.”
Oh, the difficulties of wanting a clever woman. “You need to stop struggling with your sight and resisting my offers. Accepting both might solve your problems.”
“Is it time for your meeting?”
“Not yet.”
“Oh.”
She struggled to sit still, to breathe. It was slight, just a stutter to her lungs, but it was there. He shouldn’t have told her, but it was so hard not to tell her everything.
She reached for his hand, linking their fingers.
“You’ll never know how this comforts me, Ruth.” He kissed her wrist and slipped behind her seat and pressed his fingertips to her forehead.
A murmur eased from her lips as he massaged her temples.
A ribbon, an indigo ribbon, was woven into her hair. He pulled it free. Her thick curls fell, but he needed this wide ribbon.
“I worked very hard at getting everything perfect. My hair has come down. What are you doing?”
“I have a better plan for this ribbon. Keep your spectacles off for now.”
She raised a hand as if to object, then she stopped and put her lenses into her lap.
Very loosely, he drooped the ribbon over her eyes. “Listen to the music, Ruth. No more fighting the rhythm. Let it lead.”
“Just listen? I can’t see.”
“Yes, just listen. Your hearing is the sharpest. Tell me the instruments.”
“Drums. Anyone can hear that.”
“That’s the beginning. Just listen. Do you hear cymbals and trumpets? Let those differences tease the story to you.”
She nodded, and he increased the pressure of his fingers to her temples. With his thumbs, he made small, delicate circles at the nape of her neck, following the trail he’d numbered, of spots that radiated pain, that made her sigh.
It took another minute for her to relax. Her breathing sounded regular and rhythmic, such sweet music to his ears.
“Ruth, I’ll be in the passageway that leads to this box. You, Christopher, and Cicely are the most important things to me. Forgive me. I never wanted my business to be this close to you. Never.”
Clasping his hand, she drew his fingers to her cheek. “Nothing to forgive. I know you care intensely for us. Do what you have to do to stop them and then come back to me.”
“This will make my world safe for you. I need a little more time to win. I need your patience. I reward patience.”
“I need no reward, but your consideration of me as a partner means so much. You didn’t have to tell me.”
“Enjoy this music.” He kneaded her shoulders. She sighed beneath his fingertips. “I need you here, not out in the hall. My enemies can’t see you.”
She lowered the ribbon and put on her lenses. “I don’t want you hurt.”
“I won’t be able to do this unless you are safe in here, Ruth.”
The curtains parted and Lawden stuck his head in and waved him forward.
Wycliff picked up his sjambok from the floor, kissed her cheek, then followed his man. His future was with Ruth, but he had to defeat the past first.
…
I tried to listen to the music, but Wycliff, my Wycliff, was in danger.
If he thought I’d sit still and wait like some good little woman for him, he’d lost his head.
Volcanoes didn’t wait, they exploded.
I slipped on my spectacles and bounced to the curtains. Maybe I could hear something. Maybe I could help.
My mind kept flashing to Adam. How he’d fought for me. If these were the men who had killed Adam, they wouldn’t stop with a meeting in the theater.
If I heard their voices, I could warn Wycliff. I’d been there. I knew their evil.
I pulled Papa’s knife out of my reticule. My fingers gripped the mother-of-pearl handle and tugged the blade out.
I touched the curtains then stopped. My stomach twisted in upon me. I didn’t hear footfalls anymore. It was now or dwell upon what I should’ve done. I couldn’t live like that again.
With a quick breath, a short prayer, and a raised weapon, I opened the curtain and froze.
Wycliff stood there, shaking his head. “Ruthy?”
He marched inside, and I backed up.
“You agreed too easily. You’re never easy about anything like this.” He slid the knife from my fingers. “I see you meant business.”
“You’re meeting with one of the men who killed Adam. I heard his voice. I was there. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Putting my knife in his pocket, he bit his lip. “Ruth, I can’t do what has to be done and think you are going to be rash.”
In my head, I argued, saying I want to help, I’m not rash, I want to share his burdens, but I knew none of that would change what he had to do. “What if I say I’ll marry—”
He grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me.
It wasn’t soft or easy.
This was wild and hungry.
His hands were everywhere, pinning me to him, spinning me.
I tossed my arms about him, held on to him. He was big and bold and everything my younger heart had wanted.
But I wasn’t young.
I backed away, but he followed, all the way to my chair, still holding me, still kissing me. Melting into the seat, I found my bones had disappeared.
He sank with me, to his knees.
The kiss never broke, never stopped, never let up with its consuming flames. I wanted this. I wanted to be scorched.
I wasn’t afraid, yet I trembled. I was lost but found my way in his arms.
Music surrounded us.
The tempo became my pulse. The beating in my ears was one, almost two hearts.
Almost.
For a new heart to exist in me, it had to know it would live. I had to know Wycliff would.
We both had to outrun our secrets. I didn’t know if we could.
I was weak and strong, submissive and demanding. It was my hands in his hair, my mouth pushing to explore.
“Oh, Ruthy.” He released me. “We’ll discuss marriage later, when I have a special license, and these horrible men aren’t a breath away.”
“He murdered Adam. I heard his voice at Blaren House. I’m the proof of it.”
“I know. Both men I’m meeting are responsible for everything, for leaving you no choice but to work for Madame Talease.”
My ears stopped working.
I clutched the chair. It was the only thing keeping me upright.
“Ruth, I don’t need any more proof, but I need you to stay here. I can’t be strong, fearing you’ll be reckless.”
My chest crushed, caving in, smashing whatever was there, but I tried to hang on to Wycliff.
He winced, and I held on tighter. There had to be a tomorrow for us.
“Trust me. Know that I’m right this time. No changing my plans.” He pressed his lips onto my cold hand. “This time, my way.”
He said it like I’d changed his plans before, like Wycliff was Adam.
My chest shuddered. Wycliff was Adam.
Going to the curtain, he opened it and let a groom, one armed with a short blunderbuss pistol, inside. “If anything happens, you get Mrs. Wilky to Fournier Street.”
He slipped through the curtains, and I was left to muster up my faith and listen to Adam greet his killers again.
…
Wycliff closed the curtains to his theater box.
He’d crossed the platonic boundary with that kiss. It was emotional and passionate.
And she’d kissed him back.
She’d bl
oomed at his touch, not like a delicate rose. Her lips could scald hot coals.
He had to finish this war, now. Then he and Ruth could live in peace.
His groom was loyal and would follow his instructions, but Ruth was a different matter.
Yes, his old gut was always right. He knew Ruthy would try to help, but he hadn’t expected to act upon his passion. He wasn’t sorry about this, but his double life had to end.
Scooting down the hall, he focused on the battle ahead.
Lawden was face-to-face with Wycliff’s cousin, and in the shadows of a snuffed sconce was the devil himself, Uncle Soulden.
Big, tall, one eye larger than the other from an old military wound, his uncle had towered over Wycliff’s father and had terrorized his poor mother. The fiend had aged, but he was still a cyclops.
Wycliff’s favorite Homeric hero slew the cyclops Polyphemus. No, blast it. Odysseus merely blinded the beast. Time to do better than that. Since he kept sowing murder, Soulden needed to pay—pay with his life.
Uncle clapped his hands, timed with the audience’s reaction, then stepped forward. “Nephew, it’s—”
“It’s Wycliff.”
“I wanted to see you. To commend you on your disloyalty.”
“Hard to get more disloyal, Uncle, than having me killed.”
“You hadn’t learned to mind your own business.”
Wycliff laughed. “Stealing from my father made it my business. How are you—with no money, no barony for Nicholas, and jail impending to rot out your years? Terrible, I trust?”
“You weren’t killed. That fool Johnson sold you off to the Navy. You lived. That should settle all debts.”
So Nickie had lied to his father. He couldn’t even own what he’d done. Wycliff slid his hands to the shaft of the sjambok. “You did succeed in killing my companion. I was rather partial to her.”
His cousin blinked and looked down.
Uncle didn’t. He thought Ruth dead. Nickie knew otherwise.
Soulden shrugged. “Things happen. Again, that’s the past. You’re a Wilkinson. You’ve proved it. It’s time we work together. I have lots of connections that you can use.”
The notion of a coming-together made Wycliff want to toss his uncle over the balcony and ensure he crashed through each of the floors below. “I work with no one but men of honor. That’s not you or Nickie.”
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