She found a bench and sat down to think and be by herself. There was a time she used to be able to do this in her gardens at home, but now she feared her new step-uncle too much. Since papa had been gone, she often took her meal in her rooms, never leaving her door unlocked for any reason. Sometimes she would spend the evening with Aunt Gertie, but she did not dare do it too often for fear of worrying the dear woman.
How she wished for the peace of the country once more. She also wished her father had never met that woman. Woman! Hah! Lorraine was barely a few years older than herself. The thought of that woman pretending to be her mother and so much wiser than her was a joke. So lost in her thoughts, Clarissa failed to hear the footsteps that fell behind her. A gloved hand covered her mouth and an arm pinned both of hers to her side. She struggled to break free, but could barely move at all.
“Hold still and it will go much easier for you,” the coarse voice teased at her ear. “You really are lovely, my dear,” dry lips caressed her ear, “he said you were.” She stiffened and shivered, attempting to pull away from the man. Her mind raced. Who was it? What did they want? Where was John Coachman? Could he even see her from the carriage? Why did she refuse his company?
“Now, we are going to leave here quietly. Do you understand?” She nodded her head slowly. She knew she had to get away now, otherwise who knew what would happen to her? Clarissa held out her reticule as if a peace offering to the beast behind her. “Nice touch, lovey, but I have other plans for you before I deliver you. Yes, indeed. Something sweeter than whatever is in that fine reticule of yours.”
Clarissa’s eyes widened in fear at the meaning behind his words. Innocent she may be, but she heard the change in his voice, felt the change in a certain part of his anatomy behind her. No, she cried silently. He stood her up and dragged her to the side of the bench. Not knowing what else to do she slammed her foot down on his and kicked his knee. He loosened his hand enough that she was able to scream for John Coachman.
“You little bitch,” he roared.
Clarissa turned and ran up the path towards the carriage. There was too much land between her and safety. She saw John approaching them and the worry on his face.
“Duck!” She heard him yell and she instinctively dove into a hedge before she heard the pop of a gun. She felt the prickly branches scratch her face, chest and arms. There was another crash and oath only a few feet behind her. She scrambled out of the bushes, gaining her footing and began running towards the coach. Her dress caught in some of the underbrush ripping loudly and slowing her escape. The gloved hand felt like a manacle as it closed around her ankle.
He pulled her down, but she fought and clawed, trying to pull herself away from the thug. Her fingers left trenches in the damp London soil. “Help me!” She cried at the top of her lungs.
“Shut up,” he whispered as he tried to pull her towards him.
“Help! Please!” The sound of pounding footsteps came closer and closer. Clarissa felt her energy running out fighting the large man. “Help!” Even her voice sounded weaker, fainter.
“Hell, this ain’t worth it. I don’t care what the bloke said.” All of a sudden her foot was loose, but she was too exhausted to move. Hands were lifting her. “But you are my way out of here.” The man was dragging her towards a far entrance to the park. She heard the men chasing after them. They were close enough to the entrance that the man could get away easily. “Another time, m’lady,” the man turned her head and roughly kissed her mouth bringing blood. “That’s a lil’ somethin’ to remember me’s by,” then he flung her towards a copse of trees. Disoriented and unable to catch her balance, she slammed into a huge old tree headfirst. She felt the bark scrape down her cheek, tearing her flesh. Clarissa saw beautiful stars light the blue sky before all went dark.
***
She came too in the carriage, her head pounding and her body torn and bruised. She was able to knock on the wall of the coach to get John Coachman’s attention. The carriage lurched to a stop and she felt the sway of someone getting down. She squinted against the last light of day as John opened the carriage door.
“Miss, I should have gone with you. I’ll ne’er forgive myself.”
“John, I’ll be fine,” she croaked out as she pulled herself up in the seat. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home.”
“No. Take me to Aunt Gertie’s, please.”
“But...”
“No, John. Please, do this for me.”
“Yes, miss.” She watched as John closed the door and felt the sway of the carriage as he once more got the horses moving. Clarissa remained stoic and composed during the entire ride to Gertie’s house. Despite the pounding in her head, she made certain that she had replayed the incident enough in her mind that she could recall the details exactly. The bumping and swaying of the coach in combination with her head was making her nauseous and she could not wait for the torturous ride to be over with. She knew John was taking his time in reverence to her, but on the cobbled streets of London, it would almost be better to speed to their destination and get it over with.
When they pulled up in front of the Gertie’s house, John jumped down and was lifting her out of the carriage just as the housekeeper opened the door.
“Oh, dear,” she heard the old woman say before she yelled, “Lady Heathrow, we need you immediately.”
“John, do I look that bad?” Clarissa did not argue against him carrying her because her legs felt like a holiday pudding. When she heard Aunt Gertie say, “Oh, my sweet baby, what happened to you?” she knew she looked horrid. She felt the tears gather behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She did however let Gertie wrap her up in her arms if nothing but to let her aunt feel better about the situation.
***
Justin Southerby, Viscount Southerby, sat in his father’s study and poured over the report he had to deliver in the morning to the Director of the Foreign Office. This was only his third assignment since volunteering to work in the office. His career had begun by coming across a group of Frenchmen attempting to enter Scotland near his grandfather’s land. Justin had quickly run to get clansmen to help capture the intruders. Ever since then, he felt it his duty, no his calling, to help the government keep Napoleon out of Scotland and Britain alike.
Before that time, he had done what most younger sons of the ton did, played hard. Then his older brother had felt the need to fight against Napoleon and had been one of the few British soldiers killed in the Invasion of Naples, leaving him to inherit. His father had shown him how to run the estates, but Justin found it a boring process. Not that we would neglect them upon inheriting the land, it just currently did not hold his interest. His visits to Scotland every summer always held some adventure and he enjoyed escaping the hustle and bustle of London for a while.
His mother had been on him to begin looking for a wife this season. He thought he had found one in Mikala Simmons. She was fiery and independent, just what his grandfather and grandmother would approve of. Circumstances beyond anyone’s control, however, found her married to the Duke of Hawkescliffe. A pounding on the front door interrupted his thoughts and soon the butler appeared at the open study door.
“You have a message, my lord.” Justin took the message that his parent’s butler, Dickson, carried on a silver salver.
“Thank you,” Justin said on a sigh. He had tried to tell Dickson that when his parents were gone there was no need to stand on formality. However, the man insisted, unlike Johnson at the country estate. Justin took the note and the man turned stiffly and walked out the door. He ripped open the seal, not paying attention to the mark in the wax, and began to read the note.
Dearest Justin,
I dearly need your assistance. Please, come at once.
Love,
Gertie
“What has she gone and done now?” Justin asked the empty room. Deciding to get the crisis over with, he locked his report in the safe hidden in the bookshelf and c
alled for his horse. Justin left his parent’s townhouse, which was located in an older but respectable area of Mayfair and made his way to Grosvenor Square to his godmother’s house. He never knew what to expect when visiting his mother’s best friend, which is why he tried to keep the visits to a minimum.
To purchase To Love and Protect, click here.
Taming the Wicked Wulfe
The Rogue Agents, Book 1
April 1811…
“Theodore Wulfe, I will not do it! I don’t care that you are a bloody duke! Nothing you can say could make me ever want to tie myself to that man. I cannot believe you even have the nerve to ask such a question of me,” Rebekah stormed to the window and looked through it, unseeing.
“Rebekah,” the man behind her said in a gentle tone, much like one would use when attempting to calm a wild horse. “Do you see those children out there?”
“Yes,” she whispered, letting her forehead fall against the glass, welcoming the coolness. She knew what he would say next, and Lord help her, she could not hate him as much as she wanted to.
“They are my life. They are the best of both Sarah and me, as you well know. You have helped care for them since they entered this world. Do you want them sent to an orphanage? Hell, Rebekah, do you want them sent to Sarah’s parents? Do you want them deciding the future of this dukedom?” the Duke of Wulfcrest queried.
“No!” Rebekah exclaimed, horrified, looking at him over her shoulder. She turned back to watch the two little ragamuffins that played outside with their matching Wolf Hounds, Piddles and Smelly. Smiling, she remembered how she had tried to coax the children into naming them something else, but they were as stubborn as their mother which explained why their names made vague references to bodily functions beyond a young pup’s control. Sarah’s parents would never allow the children to have pets of any kind, let alone the menagerie they seemed to keep. No, two four-year-olds deserved to be allowed to play and be rambunctious, not locked away in a living tomb.
“Sarah loved you. I love you. We could not ask for a better adoptive mother for our twins,” he broke off into a coughing fit.
Rebekah tried to tune out the coughing, but found she could not. She could no longer deny that he continued to get worse. She also knew that if she turned around, the handkerchief he used would have flecks of red on it. She wanted to rage at Heaven about the unfairness of the situation. These two precious children would be orphans in a matter of months. Teddy and Sarah were wonderful people who did not deserve to be taken so young. Especially when his rotten, good for nothing brother still drew breath. A man who could not be bothered to attend his sister-in-law’s funeral. A man who had not shown his face around Wulfcrest Manor in years. A man who if she saw him, there had better not be a loaded gun nearby. A man that Teddy wanted to tie her to for the rest of her life.
“Teddy, I have a wonderful idea,” her face lit up as she turned to look at him. Once more composed, he looked at her expectantly. “Why don’t you and I marry? It would be a marriage of convenience. I could care for you. Why are you shaking your head no?”
“I will be taking myself off to London at the end of this week. I don’t want the children to see me decline. It will not be pretty and if I can spare them, I will. That was one blessing in regards to Sarah’s accident, she did not linger. And besides, if I know my in-laws, they will fight you for the twins regardless. Knowing that Zachary will rule a dukedom, Hezekiah will want to have him close so that he can attempt to turn him into a pious monster. No, Rebekah, you need Thorn’s strength to help you. The two of you will have to provide a united front to fight the Reverend and his wife.”
“That is going to be most difficult when I want to kill him myself.”
“Rebekah, I have told you on many occasions that he has excellent reasons for everything you accuse him of,” Teddy sounded as if he were attempting to patiently talk to a small child.
“So you say. I still reserve the right to despise him. Even now, he needs to be here and where is he? Or should I say whose bed is he in? He is single-handedly destroying your family name, and all you do is make excuses for him. It sickens me.” She turned once more to stare out the window. The children were playing tag with the dogs. Squeals, laughter, and barks filtered into the room.
“On this we will just have to agree to disagree.”
“Teddy, he runs one of London’s most notorious gaming hells! How can you excuse that?”
“I have said all that I will say on the matter.”
“Oh,” she growled, “Sarah said you could be stubborn when you set your mind to something.”
“And I have set my mind to this. Need I remind you what Sarah said when I held her in my arms as she took her last breaths?”
“No,” she bit out, tightening her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She refused to give in to any more tears. It had been two years since they buried her sister, and best friend, but some days it felt like only yesterday.
“She wanted you to be happy.”
“And marrying your wastrel brother is the solution?” she asked incredulously, spinning around to face him once more.
“Regardless of what you think, family is very important to Thorn. He loved Sarah like a sister for most of his life. He loves his niece and nephew. He tolerates you,” he tried to tease.
“I loathe him.”
“What really happened between you two?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” she huffed and moved across the room.
“Sarah always suspected there was more between the two of you than you let on, but she said you remained tight-lipped about it.”
“It was none of her business and now it is none of yours.”
“Fine.” He held up his hands knowing he would not get anywhere further on that front. He started to say something but another fit of coughing overcame him. This time it lasted longer than before and had him doubling over until Rebekah could assist him to a chair. Once seated, she quickly got him something to drink. She made to stand up when he grasped her wrist. She could not help but notice that his grip had weakened over the weeks. Kneeling beside him, she looked up at him and saw the desperation in his eyes. “Please, Rebekah.”
Those two words were like a death knell sounding over the valley. Suddenly she felt as if someone had put the last nail in her coffin and she could not take in enough air. “Do what you must,” she said, rising to her feet.
“Thank you. You don’t know how this eases my mind.” He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I’m going outside with the children,” she said, slipping out of his grasp, and escaping from the room. Once she reached the coolness of the darkened hallway, she came to a stop. “Bloody hell and damnation,” she muttered, nerves and anger jockeying for first place position inside her. “This will never work. I’ll kill him first.” She pushed away from the wall and made her way outside. The spring sunshine felt wonderful on her face, a light breeze blew, lifting the tendrils of hair off her neck.
***
Two hours later Rebekah sat at the dining table with Teddy, the twins, and the vicar and his wife. They had been allowed to join the adults on what Teddy considered a special occasion. She reached for her glass of wine and paused as the ring on her left finger sparkled in the candlelight. It felt heavy on her hand, reminding her of all that had transpired today. She felt relief that Teddy had had the foresight not to put on her hand the ring that Sarah had worn. If he had done that, she would have been unable to hold back the tears that she currently fought. Instead, her husband’s signet ring encircled her finger. Ignoring it, she took her glass and drank deeply. Her life would never be the same.
“Lady Wulfe, are you all right?” The vicar asked at her elbow.
“Yes, I’m sorry, Vicar. It isn’t every day that a woman finds herself married, is it?”
“No, it isn’t. I just wish your young man could have been here.”
“Yes,” she murmured before taking anot
her deep drink.
“You will be the envy of all the women,” the vicar’s wife, Mrs. Young, said. “Wulfe is such a handsome man, and there is such mystery surrounding him.”
“Mystery,” Rebekah huffed before taking another drink, only to find her glass empty. She caught the eye of a footman who quickly refilled it. She let the conversation flow around her, not contributing overly to it. The wine continued to flow and before she knew it, the vicar and his wife were leaving.
“You are going to have a hell of a headache in the morning, Bekah,” Teddy said as he helped her up the stairs.
“That is Lady Wulfe to you,” she slurred and stumbled up two stairs before standing upright with the help of Wulfecrest and the bannister. “Not even a proper wedding night, but there was that one night.”
“What night? What are you talking about?”
“I don’t kiss and tell, Teddy,” she waggled her finger at him in mock reprimand.
“Perhaps I should break the news of this marriage to my brother in person,” Teddy said.
“He doesn’t know?” Rebekah giggled uncontrollably. “That’s rich!” She continued giggling. “I’m married to a man who doesn’t know he’s married. He’s going to murder us both when he finds out,” she singsonged.
“He will not. How many glasses of wine did you have?” Teddy demanded.
“I lost count. Why is the room spinning?” She asked curiously as they entered her bedchamber.
“Just climb up on your bed,” Teddy instructed.
“Wanted a marriage like you and Sarah. So happy. But now I’m stuck with Thorn. Will always have a thorn in my side,” she giggled and flopped back on the bed. Soon she slept the sleep of the truly inebriated.
Seducing the Ruthless Rogue Page 36