“I will do what I can, but you are not leaving me very much time. The party is tomorrow night, and my director is fighting for his life because someone saw fit to nearly beat him to death.” Thorn cut a look at the two giants in the corner.
“Hence, why taking your wife became a necessity. I had to force you to see it from our side. Though, that is too bad about your director. It would have gone much better for him if he had just given us the information that we needed. I do so hate it when bastards are appointed to a public office and believe they are so much better than anyone else.” The man stretched and yawned. “I find I am rather tired. If you will excuse me.” Walsh pushed away from his desk and casually walked around it. “Cummings will see you out, and next time, do try to pick a more decent hour to visit.”
Thorn watched the younger man strut to the door as if he were a gambler that held all the cards. He wanted to kill him where he stood, but knew that was not going to do anyone any good, especially not Rebekah.
“By the way, I am looking forward to quite a spectacular fireworks show tomorrow night,” the man grinned evilly before turning and disappearing into the dark recesses of his house.
Chapter 26
Thorn rode up to the house alone. He had left Barkley behind to monitor the activities of the Duke of Walsh. As he dismounted, he heard a rustling in the hedges. He stormed over, reached in, and fished around until he was able to clasp his hand around an arm. Wulfe pulled and heard an indelicate “Ow!” in a very familiar voice.
“Come out of there, Aimée.”
“Hush! He can’t know that I am here. Meet me in your garden.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I might just be able to help you.”
“Fine.” He left and stomped up the walk to the front door. His anger caused him to fight with the key, unable to get it to meet up with the hole in the lock.
“Welcome home, my lord,” the footman assigned that particular shift opened the door.
“Any word from Lady Wulfe?”
“No, my lord.”
“Very well. Make sure that everything is securely locked.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I am going into the gardens for a few moments. I need some fresh air.” The footman bobbed and went about his duties, not saying that he though it odd the master was going outside after just having come from there. Thorn went to his study without lighting any lamps, unlocked and opened the veranda doors, then slipped outside. “Aimée, where are you?”
“Here,” she stood in the dark shadows cast by an evergreen. The moon was a half moon, casting things in silvery light and shadows. Whispery clouds floated by, adding to the shades and patterns on the ground. “I take it you have not found your wife yet?”
“No. Do you know where she is?”
“No. I know where she was. He had her at his house. I wrote the letter, but that was her blood. He cut her hand.”
“Is she all right?”
“She was, last time I saw her. He had give John instructions to take her somewhere.”
“Why does John seem to hate Rebekah so much?”
“Evidently she unmanned his brother.”
“So, that’s it,” he couldn’t help but chuckle as he thought back to that day. She had been both frightened and brave. If Barkley had not been there to verify her story, he would have doubted her capable of carrying out such an action.
“This isn’t the least bit funny, Wulfe. She is in danger.”
“You think I don’t know that? I am worried I will never see her again. That I will never…” He broke off and stared at the other woman who looked very similar to his wife in all but hair color and eyes. “Tell me everything that happened today. I have less than a day to try to save both my wife and the Prince Regent, as well several hundred other people.”
“I waited in the hack for your wife after she carried out her business at your establishment. I knew Walsh wanted her to make certain that you carried out what he wanted you to do. I blame myself for her being taken. I let myself lose control of the situation.”
“Rebekah has a way of taking things over without you ever realizing until it is too late.”
“Oui. We were at the cemetery when Walsh had his men overtake the hack driver.”
“Cemetery?”
“Oui. We were taken back to Walsh’s house. I don’t know where she is now.”
“Why are you free? Why does Walsh not have you hidden away somewhere?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she turned away from him.
“You’re sleeping with him. And you’re sleeping with Glandingham. I can’t believe this. How many were you sleeping with when you were my mistress? Don’t even answer that, just the thought disgusts me. You’re nothing but a…”
“Slut? Harlot? Go ahead, go through the entire list of what you think I am! When men do it, it is for the good of the country, isn’t it? I mean, that is why you were with me that entire time. You thought I had connections to the French and would bring information. So what is the difference, Wulfe?”
“You’re a woman.”
“Oui, and it might disgust you, but a woman can get more information out of a man in bed than you could torturing them. I will not apologize for what I have done. If it has helped to shorten the length of this awful war, then I am proud of what I have done.”
“You’re right. What do you suggest I do to find my wife?”
“One thing I have found out about Walsh is that he is a creature of habit.”
“What do you mean?”
“He does the same thing over and over. You could set your watch by him. He does not like to waste time trying knew things if old ones work. Odd for one so young, don’t you think?”
“Odd or lazy,” Wulfe paused thoughtfully. “You’re certain you’ve no idea where she might be?”
“Non.” The two stood in silence for several minutes. “I did not mean to lead Walsh to her,” Aimée said. “She seems to be very strong. She will survive this.”
“I hope so.” Thorn retreated into his house, leaving the woman alone in the garden.
***
Rebekah awoke atop the sarcophagus. She looked around, unsure as to what had awakened her. She blinked several times before she realized it looked lighter in the room. A small, stained glass window placed high above the door allowed various colors of light into the marble room. The floor still lay in darkness. Rebekah cringed to think about what might be lying in wait for her down there.
On the sarcophagus, a vase was attached to one end for flowers from the family members. She attempted to rock it back and forth, but found it to be firmly fixed to the lid. Then she tried to twist it free, but still no luck. Finally, it slid into her hands. The weight of the vase felt reassuring, as if she were in control of the situation once more. Rebekah considered throwing the vase at the window, but did not want to give up her one and only weapon. She studied the colorful image of an angel in prayer, and knew that she had to rid herself of it if she were to survive this.
Rebekah carefully slipped the vase back in its holder, not wanting to risk knocking it to the ground. She stood, bending when her head reached the ceiling, and slipped off her petticoat. She tightly wound the garment around her hand and wrist, attempting to protect herself from any cuts. Still standing, she eased herself along to the end of the enclosed coffin closest to the door and window. A chasm of approximately three feet separated her from her target. Squeaks sounded below, as if the rats knew how close they were to getting a meal. Rebekah sent a prayer heavenward, then proceeded with her plan.
***
“Has he regained consciousness?” Thorn asked the Duchess of Hawkescliffe early the next morning.
“Just,” she said.
“I need to speak with him.”
“I don’t think that will be possible,” Mikala answered protectively.
“Let me put this another way, Your Grace. I will speak to him.”
“You will not speak to my wife t
hat way, and if she says Mack cannot receive visitors, then he cannot receive visitors.”
“Go to Hell!” Thorn said, pushing back the Duke of Hawkescliffe. He made it up the stairs and was opening doors, searching for his director. On the third try he was successful, as was Hawkescliffe when he caught up with him.
“You can leave now,” Hawkescliffe fisted his hands in Thorn’s lapels and tried to force him out of the door of Mack’s room.
Thorn knocked Gabriel’s hands out of the way and pushed him against a wall. “No, you don’t seem to understand, Your Grace. I have an assassination I am trying to stop as well as saving my wife. Now you can either help me, or get the bloody hell out of my way.”
“Assassination? Who?”
“The Prince Regent, and time is running out.”
“How do I know you aren’t just making this up?”
“You don’t.”
“Bloody hell, Gabe, let him in,” Mack moaned from the bed. “What’s happening, Thorn?”
Thorn jerked free of the Duke of Hawkescliffe and entered the injured man’s bedroom. He paused as he looked at his Director. Once, he had been surprised at how much the half brothers looked alike. It now looked as if no one could claim they were related. Bones had been rearranged on the director’s face. His eyes were slits in his swollen face, and Thorn could not be sure if he could even truly see out of them.
“Well?”
“Sir, Lord Walsh is behind an assassination attempt on the Prince Regent. Tonight at Buckingham House. He expects me to have Sir Graham set explosives in the Tyburn River tunnel.”
“Graham well hidden,” Mack managed.
“I know, sir. Walsh has my wife held hostage.” Silence. “Sir?”
“He’s passed out again,” a feminine voice answered. “Gabe, you have to help.”
“I know,” he sighed. “Take care of yourself and the baby,” he gathered her in his arms. Wulfe turned his back to give the couple some privacy. “I will have the footmen arm themselves.”
“Come back to me in one piece.”
“Let’s go,” Lord Hawkescliffe commanded. Outside, Thorn waited for the Duke of Hawkescliffe to have his horse saddled and brought around. “Tell me your plan, Wulfe.”
Thorn quickly sketched his plan to the duke.
“I like how you think. I will go and sound the call. I will have the men stationed in the park. See if there isn’t somehow you can find out exactly where he is going. I don’t want this one to get past us.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The two men parted ways, both having things they had to see to before the evening’s festivities got underway.
***
Glandingham watched the gamblers arrive and leave from the Lady Luck. He straightened when he saw Lord Walsh enter. The man was almost half his age, but still frightened him. There was something about his demeanor that made one believe he could lose control of himself if provoked. He would be glad when his debt was paid to the man and he could cut ties with him. He cursed the day the man bought his vowels and approached him.
“Glandingham, how are you today?”
“Well, Your Grace, and you?”
“Marvelous. It’s as if one can smell change in the air.”
“Yes, well, have a wonderful time.”
“Oh, I plan on it,” the duke said before strolling off.
Glandingham watched the man talk to several men before settling at a Faro table. Wulfe entered the establishment, a harsh look on his face. He no longer looked like the easy-going rake he had known. He had only seen that look on his face once before, and that was a time quite a while ago in a dark alley. Glandingham shivered at the thought of the reminder of how ruthless Wulfe could be when he wanted something. He watched Wulfe solicitously scan the room before crossing it. Wulfe took the seat next to Walsh. Glandingham watched the men with interest. Before long they stood and went into the back together.
***
Thorn followed Walsh into the back of the Lady Luck.
“You’re right,” Thorn said, and the younger man turned into the office.
“We are taking a risk being seen together.”
“A risk that must be taken. All is set and ready.”
“Excellent. You know, Wulfe, you really had me worried. I didn’t know if you would do what needed to be done.”
“Let’s just say I see the value in your cause.”
“Excellent! We can always use new members, and what with your director fighting for his life, they will be looking for someone to replace him.”
“Interesting. Of course, I would still have to answer to the Cabinet Member over the department.”
“Oh, Wulfe,” the man chuckled. “We are looking at a total restructuring of the government.”
“You mean that I would be in charge of The War Office and not have to answer to anyone?”
“Now, I did not say that. We all must answer to someone.”
“I see. You make an interesting proposal.”
“Good, I did so hope you would see our side of things. Now, tell me how things are going to occur.”
Thorn laid out his plans to the other man.
“So we will want to make our excuses and slip out a little before midnight.”
“Yes, and you will want the optimum viewing opportunity.”
“And where exactly do you suggest that be?”
“The tip of the canal in St. James's Park, closest to Buckingham House.”
“Hmm. I shall think on it. I will see you tonight Wulfe, one way or the other. I look forward to the fireworks display you have in store for us.”
Walsh walked out of the room, leaving Thorn with an uneasy feeling. Wulfe walked through the gaming room once more, expecting to see Walsh had left. Instead, the man had returned to the Faro table. Wulfe wanted to pound the man for his casual attitude, but knew he would never see Rebekah again. Rebekah. Where would he be keeping her? Something kept teasing his mind about the man, but he could not quite bring it to mind.
Thorn could not go home and face the sad, pitiful looks the twins would give him because he had yet to find their precious Aunt Bekah. He needed to get into Walsh’s house, but knew it would be a veritable fortress, and then there were the giants that were just looking for a reason to end his life. He would have to bide his time. Frustrated beyond measure, Thorn found a footman and asked him to prepare a horse for him. He had several hours to waste until the show would begin. Thorn could not wait to see Walsh’s face.
Once mounted, he guided the horse through London. He went past Walsh’s residence and searched out Barkley.
“Nothing to note, my lord. He left a while ago.”
“And the giants?”
“Took them with him. I see one’s still not walking too well,” Barkley referred to the one that Rebekah had shot.
“No, no he’s not. Keep watching. I can’t get a read on this one, Barkley.”
“No, sir. Reminds me a bit of an eel—slimy and difficult to keep in your grasp.”
“Yes.”
“Where are you going, if I might ask.”
“I don’t know. I can’t go home, not without Rebekah.”
“The children must be missing Lady Wulfe.”
“Yes.” Thorn prodded his horse’s flanks, and he began to move.
“Be careful, my lord. I wouldn’t want to have to train another.”
“Barkley, you would be hanged for being insubordinate by anyone else,” Thorn laughed before leaving the man behind. He traveled the streets of London thinking over the last few days. A group of the ton wanted to kill the Prince Regent. The director of the War Office had almost been beaten to death, and now Rebekah had been kidnapped to ensure he would comply. He dared not think about what else might happen.
Twilight was falling on London Thorn let the clip-clop of the horse soothe him as they traveled through the streets. He absently guided the horse, not paying attention to where he led him, until he finally came to a stop. Wulfe looked o
ver to see the entrance of the cemetery where their son had been buried. This was the last place Rebekah had been. Why? What had she been doing here?
He tied the horse to the gate and then entered the burial ground. Thorn strolled the paths until he came to the memorial for his son. His chest tightened at the loss. Were he and Rebekah ever going to have the opportunity to be a family? “Aaahhhhh!” he railed at the sky, his hands fisted in his hair. When he came back to himself, he thought he heard a faint echo and a tinkling of glass. He shook his head and noticed that someone had laid fresh flowers on the baby’s grave.
“Help!”
Thorn stood, drew his gun, and looked around in concern. The voice sounded weak and raspy. “Hello?”
“Please help!” A sob broke at the end of the plea.
“Keep talking,” he instructed. He moved slowly, keeping his gun drawn should someone be waiting in the shadows. The voice was wafting from the far back corner of the cemetery where several marble mausoleums stood.
“There are rats. I can’t abide rats.”
Thorn paused. Though raspy and weak, it sounded ever so familiar. “Rebekah?” he called out tentatively.
“Thorn?” she sniffed.
“Yes. Thank God I’ve found you! Where are you?”
“Look for my petticoat flying from the window.”
He paused and saw a long white petticoat unfurl and get caught up in the wind. “I see it! I’m coming.”
“Be careful. I don’t know if he has guards set about.”
Thorn reached her prison without any problem. He stowed his gun and said, “Stay back from the door,” he ordered. It took several times of him setting boot to lock, but he finally broke through. He heard the squeak and pattering of rats’ feet as they moved further into the darkness. Wulfe sensed Rebekah flying through the air at him moments before he saw her. He quickly put up his hands and caught her, bringing her close. He walked backwards out of the marble building and lowered her to her feet on the ground.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Now I am,” she said, stepping away from him, and trying to suppress a shiver. She pulled her cloak tight about her and the hood over her head, to cover most of her face. “Can we go home?”
Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) Page 31