Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents)

by Tammy Jo Burns

  “Do you know why he did it?” the Director asked him curiously.

  “The twins. He wouldn’t want them to end up being raised by Sarah and Rebekah’s parents. What do I do?” Thorn Wulfe rarely, if ever, asked for help.

  “Tell Glandingham your brother has passed away, and you must attend his funeral. Leaving him in charge of the Lady Luck for a week or two will help on that front. You have scarce left her for more than a day since taking him on as a partner. Who knows what characters he will pull in while you’re away. Mourn your brother. You also need to realize that you are now the official guardian of the Duke of Wulfecrest. This puts an interesting twist on running a gaming hell.”

  “It is a good thing my parents are both dead. This would kill them. What do I do with the twins and Bekah?”

  “What do you think? Should you leave them in the country or bring them to London?”

  “I don’t know. What if someone finds out we’re married and I’m their guardian? What if they go after them?”

  “All very good questions,” Mack said solemnly. “Sarah’s parents, how interested would they be in taking over the raising of a duke?”

  “I think my head might choose to explode rather than contemplate that idea any further. You are a lot of help, Director, are you aware of that?”

  “Fine. If I were in your position, I would want them close so that I could keep an eye on them. Set up security that they are unaware of and make sure they are protected. Then I would find a way to get out of this business alive so they will no longer be in danger. You have more weight on your shoulders now than you ever did being an agent for the Crown.”

  “Dammit, why did Teddy have to get killed?”

  “He was dying,” Mack attempted gentleness, but failed miserably. “You would be facing this in the near future, regardless.”

  “I suppose I will be leaving for Wulfecrest before the day is out. Are you certain about leaving Glandingham in charge?”

  “Yes. We have wasted enough time on this endeavor. We need him to feel more confident and bring in more of his cronies, including the one we are looking for. Otherwise, we might have to admit that we are wrong, that there is no group trying to overthrow the government.” The men silently contemplated one another, before Mack stood. “I sent the undertaker on with directions of how to find the estate. You should go by horseback to beat him there.”

  “Fine. I will be gone no longer than a fortnight.”

  “Take the time that you need and be careful,” Mack said.

  Thorn nodded his head stiffly before he stood and left the coffeehouse. He made his way back to the Lady Luck lost in thought. Upon entering the establishment he began giving orders of things that needed to be done. He saw a man sitting in a dark corner smoking a pipe. Instant dislike curdled in his stomach, but he made his way over to him.

  “Glandingham, there is an emergency at home that I must see to. I will be gone for a fortnight and am leaving you in charge.”

  “I expected this.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Bad news travels fast, and worse news travels faster. Should I offer my condolences or congratulations?”

  “Quit talking in riddles.” Glandingham threw down a London paper on the table. It laid folded open to the society page. Lord Thornton Wulfe, the younger brother of the Duke of Wulfecrest was married in a quiet ceremony to Miss Rebekah Johnson at Wulfecrest Manor, the country estate of said Duke. Could it be true that London’s most notorious rake and gaming hell owner has finally settled down? Only time will tell.

  “How did you manage to get yourself married at Wulfecrest Manor when you have been in London every day for the last month?”

  “Glandingham, it’s a long story that I really don’t want to go into right now.”

  “Where is the bastard?” A woman growled upon entering the gaming hell.

  “Bloody hell,” Wulfe said, rubbing his pounding temples. “Can this day possibly get any worse?”

  “There you are, you bastard! Explain this to me!” A beautiful redhead slammed the folded newspaper into his chest.

  “Aimée, there is nothing to explain.”

  “Nothing to explain? You were married? And do you mind telling me when this miraculously occurred since you have been warming my bed almost every night for the last two months?”

  “Aimée, not now.”

  “Not now? Not now?” she repeated furiously.

  “We will discuss this when I return.”

  “Return? Where are you going?”

  “Wulfecrest Manor.”

  “To see your wife?” She screeched, hitting him with her fists.

  He saw Glandingham chuckling in the dark corner.

  “She will be there, but I am going to bury my brother,” Wulfe said, capturing her fists and holding them against his chest.

  “Oh,” Aimée said, her tone softening some. “So that means you are now the Duke of Wulfecrest?” she asked.

  “Didn’t take her long to figure that one out,” Glandingham chuckled.

  “No to both of you. It means that I am now the guardian of the Duke of Wulfecrest.”

  “You are still a very powerful man, no?” The redhead asked coyly, regaining a formerly non-existent French accent.

  “Darling, I was a powerful man before this tragedy,” Wulfe chucked her under the chin and gave her a lopsided grin that made him look amazingly charming.

  “Yes, darling, we can discuss this when you get back. No need to speak in anger,” she reached up and wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to meet hers. She kissed him seductively before pulling back, “When you get back I will make all the hurt go away.” She kissed him once more before turning and sashaying out the door.

  “Can you run the Lady Luck while I’m gone?” Wulfe turned on the earl the moment Aimée left the building.

  “Of course,” Glandingham said.

  “Good. If anything comes up, send a messenger. I don’t know how long it will take me to take care of the estate. If it takes longer than I expect, I will send word.”

  “Fine, fine,” the man pushed his large frame out of the chair. “Be careful, my boy, you have moved up in status if you have not yet realized it.”

  Wulfe watched the man walk across the room and disappear into the office. He went to his room and grabbed the bag that his valet packed for him. “Keep an eye on things. If anything seems off, send for me right away.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the man replied sarcastically.

  He shook his head and then left the building. He made his way to the stable where he kept his horse and had it saddled. Within the hour of finding out his life had well and truly been upended he was on his way to his wife, niece, and nephew.

  ***

  Rebekah and the twins were outside playing when the dogs began barking wildly. Bekah looked up and saw a wagon lumbering slowly up the drive. From the high point where she stood, she made out the shape of what the wagon contained. Her knees turned to mush and she fell to the ground, tears gathered in her eyes, and spilled down her cheeks. The twins ran to her side.

  “Aunt Bekah, what’s wrong?”

  “Take them inside!” She heard a masculine voice yell as he rounded the corner on his horse at breakneck speed. She looked up in shock at the man riding towards them. A man she had not seen in so very long. “Take them inside!”

  Somehow she stood and remained upright. She quickly grabbed each child by the hand and pulled them into the house with the dogs following, yapping loudly. She led them up to their playroom and called for a maid to stay with them.

  “Aunt Bekah, what’s wrong?” Ivy asked, tears forming in her eyes at seeing her aunt so upset.

  “Nothing, sweetheart. Everything is going to be fine. I was just shocked for a moment.”

  “Are you sure?” Zachary asked cautiously.

  “Yes, darling, I’m sure. You two stay up here and play, all right?” She waited until they nodded before slippi
ng out of the room and leaving them in the care of a maid. “Watch them and don’t allow them downstairs.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Ever since her proxy wedding, the servants had taken to calling her “my lady” much to her consternation. She quickly made her way downstairs and stopped on a lower step as she watched several footmen carry in a casket. Her lips began to tremble and she could not stop the tears from falling.

  “Rebekah, go upstairs.”

  “It should be you in that casket,” she spat at her husband. “He was the best man I knew. It should be you!” She rushed towards him, her hands raised, and she pounded on his chest when she reached him.

  Thorn stood there and let her pound until she exhausted herself. Then he wrapped his arms around her and let her cry out her hurt and anger. He rubbed her back while she cried. A feeling of déjà vu swept over him, yet he knew he had never held her in his arms before. It merely reminds you of the earlier situation with Aimée, he told himself. Her crying slowed and he maneuvered her into the study. He saw her seated on the divan and then went in search of whisky. He poured her a glass and took it back to her.

  “Drink this,” he said as he sat next to her. He watched, impressed, as she tossed back the whisky in one swallow.

  “I didn’t expect it would be this soon. I thought perhaps we had at least a few months.”

  “He did not die of his illness.”

  “What?” Rebekah’s head shot up.

  “He was murdered.”

  “Where? How? When? Why?” She rapidly asked, not pausing to allow him to answer even the first question before continuing with the others.

  “In London. Someone shot him. It happened early this morning. We believe he foiled an assassination attempt.”

  “Assassination attempt? On whom?”

  “A friend of his. His friend assured me he passed quickly.”

  “That is much better than what it would have been for him.” She used the back of her hands to swipe at the tears that still leaked out of her eyes.

  “Here,” Thorn pushed a handkerchief into her hands.

  “What am I going to tell the twins?” She asked the room, not expecting an answer.

  “We will tell them the truth. Their father died a hero.”

  “Do you truly expect it will be that easy? Four-year-olds ask more questions than you can imagine. You think you can just come in here and wax poetic about how their father died and all will be well and good? Well, it isn’t that easy!”

  “What do you suggest then?”

  “I haven’t a clue. I thought I had months to prepare them, not hours. And now here you are adding to my problems. Why did Teddy do this to us?”

  “Because of the twins.”

  “I don’t need your help with the twins. We’ll be fine on our own.”

  “And what happens when Hezekiah and Edith come knocking on the door demanding they be relinquished to their custody. Who do you think the locals will side with? A fine, upstanding minister and his wife, or a woman that doesn’t even live with her husband? Who do you think they will trust more with the raising of the Duke of Wulfecrest?” He watched as she crossed her arms, her eyes sparkling green in anger.

  “And you believe they will have more trust in a man that runs a gaming hell?”

  “There are things you do not understand, and I have more support than you will ever know. Merely trust me when I say that the Reverend Hezekiah Johnson will not win in a war against me.”

  “You sound very sure of yourself. I wish I could trust you.”

  “Do you?”

  “For the children’s sake, I must. I want you to know that those two children are the only reason I wear your ring on my finger,” she stood, relishing the anger she felt towards him as it pushed all the other emotions to the background.

  Wulfe looked down at her ring finger, a look of shock crossed his face when he saw the signet ring his father had given to him upon entering Eton. Something had happened to it the day his father died, but he could not remember what. He only knew he had never seen it again, and thought it lost. “What are you doing with my ring?”

  “Your brother put it on my finger during our wedding ceremony.”

  “How was that, by the way?”

  “Tedious.”

  “After the funeral, we are taking the children to London.”

  “Why don’t you just stay here?”

  “I have a business to run. I can’t walk away from the Lady Luck.”

  “Not even for your niece and nephew? Have you any idea what it will do to their reputation? You are a selfish bastard!” She raised her hand and watched as it arced through the air and landed a harsh blow on his cheek. She pulled her hand away and rubbed at her stinging palm.

  “Do you feel better?”

  “I hate you.”

  “I noticed, but why? What have I ever done to you to make you hate me so?”

  “Forget it. I will not take them to London. They will already be upset from the news.”

  “Exactly. They need to be away from all the memories for a while. I cannot leave my affairs in London unattended, and I will not explain to you why. You are my wife, evidently, and you will do as I say in this matter.”

  “I hate you,” she stated again.

  “Good, now that we have that matter taken care of. I’m going up to see my niece and nephew and attempt to break the news to them about their father. Do you want to come with me or shall I do this on my own?”

  “I’ll come with you,” she bit out. “We’ll be lucky if they even know who you are.” She stood up and stormed out of the room, dashing up the stairs. She could feel his presence behind her. She entered the playroom and dismissed the maid. “Do you two remember your Uncle Thorn?” Rebekah asked once the maid had left the room. Thorn closed the door to lend them privacy. The children looked at him shyly, not certain what they should do.

  “How are my little ones?” he asked going down on one knee and holding his arms out.

  “Uncle Thorn, Papa tells us wonderful stories about you,” Ivy ran across first and flung herself at him.

  “Hello, sir,” Zachary held out his hand for Thorn to shake.

  “That is quite a grip you have there, young man,” Thorn said with just enough awe in his voice to make the little boy beam.

  “I’ve missed seeing the two of you. You’ve grown so much!” He looked at them closely.

  “Papa says before long we will be all grown up.”

  “You will, too.”

  “Papa’s not here,” Ivy said. Both children were blonde, but Zachary had sparkling blue eyes and Ivy’s looked like emeralds glistening in the sun.

  “Darlings, there is something that we must tell you,” Bekah, joined the trio, and went to her knees.

  “Is it good news?”

  “We have both good news and bad news, Ivy.”

  “The good news is that your Aunt Bekah and I are married,” Thorn announced.

  “But how did you get married without being here?” Ivy asked curiously.

  “They are both having difficulty with that concept,” Rebekah interjected.

  “Will we see you more now, Uncle Thorn?” Zachary asked.

  “Indeed you will. We will all be going to London in a few weeks.”

  “Will Papa know where to find us?” Ivy queried.

  “Your Papa will always know exactly where you are, love,” Bekah said, rubbing her back.

  “You see, the bad news I have to tell you is about your Papa. He has gone to Heaven to be with your Mum.” The twins looked at him questioningly then at each other and finally at Rebekah.

  “Do you understand what your Uncle Thorn is telling you?”

  The twins nodded their heads in unison and then Ivy started to cry. She threw herself at Rebekah, knocking her over. Thorn helped her sit up. He turned to see Zachary fighting against his tears. He walked over to the little boy.

  “It’s all right to cry, son,” he told the little boy.


  “Duke’s don’t cry,” he snuffled, having heard enough talk to know what it meant when his Papa died.

  “What do duke’s do?” The boy shrugged his answer. “What do you want to do?” In answer the boy gave a guttural wail and then began swinging his fists at Wulfe’s legs until his energy left him depleted. Only then did he finally allow the tears to come. When Wulfe tried to hold the boy, he pulled away and ran to the arms of his Aunt Rebekah. Feeling very much unwanted, Thorn left the three to grieve together in the playroom. He found himself wondering how many bruises he would have in the morning after being a human punching bag. “I hope you knew what you were doing, Teddy, because right now, I’m not so certain.”

  Chapter 3

  A heavy drizzle fell on those attending Theodore Wulfe, the Duke of Wulfecrest’s funeral. Dark umbrellas were lifted in an attempt to keep most of the people at the gravesite dry. The young Duke of Wulfecrest clung to his aunt’s hand, watching stoically as they lowered his father’s casket into the ground. His twin sister hid her face in the same aunt’s skirts, her sobs could be heard by all in attendance. Said aunt had silent tears streaming down her face. A man stood close to the trio. It had been so long since many in attendance had seen him that they could not be sure if he was the deceased duke’s younger brother or an apparition. Slowly the bystanders walked away from the gravesite to their carriages, leaving the quartet standing alone.

  Thorn had been dealing with bouts of tears for the past day and a half from his niece. His nephew seemed to have aged twenty years overnight. Then there was his wife. He looked at the woman who stood in front of him, her back ramrod straight, holding the hands of his niece and nephew. After having left the three of them in the playroom the afternoon of his arrival, she had hardly spared him a look, let alone spoken to him. They were like strangers passing in the hallway, sharing a house, but avoiding one another at every turn.