“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 another 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.
“You, dear sister, are going to have a terrible headache in the morning,” he told the inert form sprawled across the bed. He looked around the room and spied a shawl draped over a chair. He grabbed it and covered her with it rather than fighting with the bedcovers. “Thank you for all you have sacrificed for my children,” he whispered and brushed a kiss across her forehead.
“Thorn, kiss me again,” she mumbled.
“What secrets are you carrying?” he asked the sleeping woman.
***
June 1811
“Good afternoon, Director,” Thorn Wulfe greeted Mack in the obscure coffee house. He had made sure no one followed him. Very rarely did he get summoned to meet the Director, and he wondered what could cause the man to risk their connection being made public.
“Wulfe, have a seat,” Mack nodded at the waiter, and the man brought over two cups. “I have some news to share with you.”
“Will it help with Glandingham? I swear that man is as slippery as an eel.”
“No, this is of a more personal nature.”
“What is it?” Wulfe asked, noting the solemn tone that had entered the man’s voice.
“There is no easy way to say this. Your brother was in London to see you. We were on our way to the Lady Luck and someone took a shot at me. Your brother saved my life.”
“Where is he?”
“He didn’t make it. He told me he was dying and had some things he needed to tell you. He went very quickly.”
“Teddy’s dead?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Where?”
“A few blocks from the Horseguards. I believe it was an assassination attempt on me.”
“I see.”
“Take a drink of your coffee. I had them put something a bit stronger in it.”
Wulfe mechanically took a drink of the coffee, welcoming the whisky he could taste in it. He just as quickly put the cup down. “The twins. I have to get to the twins. Sarah’s parents will be like vultures,” he knew he was rambling, but could not stop.
“The children are being well cared for at the moment by your wife.”
In the process of standing, Wulfe paused, hands braced on the table and looked at McKenzie. “I’m sorry, Director, but I don’t think I heard you correctly. Did you say they were being looked after by my wife? And before you answer, please remember that I am very much single and have a beautiful mistress that is very demanding of my attention.”
“The children are being cared for by your wife,” Mack repeated.
“And just who the hell is this wife?”
“Your brother said the name ‘Bekah’.”
“Bloody hell! How in the hell am I married to that waspish woman when I am in London and she is at Wulfecrest Manor?”
“Proxy marriage.”
Wulfe dropped back on the chair. He would have had to sign some sort of papers, wouldn’t he? Then he remembered a night several years ago when he had not been thinking clearly. A night that had changed the lives of several people. Barkley, his valet had presented papers for him to sign and passed them off as “estate business”. Bloody hell, he had signed his life over to a fishwife. Never again would he sign something without reading it thoroughly. “Damn, damn, damn,” he muttered before pounding his fist on the table. His head began to pound.
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Excerpt - Seducing the Ruthless Rogue
Stuart McKenzie straightened the cuffs of his superfine and his cravat before he entered the lobby of the House of Commons. He received a note from Prime Minister Percevel to meet him here. Very rarely did he have direct contact with the prime minister, so he was intrigued as to why he was being asked to meet here of all places. Usually he would be summoned to the man’s office.
He entered the lobby of the building to find men milling about. There would be meetings and hearings on different matters being held today. Mack moved to a shadowed corner where he could watch the proceedings. He did not like having his back to people. It was not wise for one in his position. Not after having had several assassination attempts on his life, the most recent having been last year. He had been left bloody and beaten, almost unrecognizable. His convalescence had taken much too long in his humble opinion, and he had been fighting to return to his position much sooner than anyone wanted him to.
The doors opened at the other end of the lobby as Percevel entered with his entourage of people. They crossed the lobby and people could be heard hailing greetings to him. A man dressed in common work clothes and appearing disheveled entered, looking about nervously. Mack perked up and began to cross the lobby. Something about the man seemed off. He did not look as if he belonged with all these men. All of a sudden, the atmosphere seemed charged with energy.
“Prime Minister,” the man called. Percevel turned, a smile on his face from something one of the other men was telling him, perhaps a joke. A loud pop echoed in the lobby, and Mack had only seconds to react. He jumped towards the man, not even getting out a warning, and then just as quickly fell to the floor. Another pop sounded, and then a flurry of activity broke out.
Mack wheezed and tried to stand, but seemed unable to catch his breath. He lifted his head and watched Percevel’s eyes glass over as blood spread across the man’s chest. Men swarmed Prime Minister Percevel, dragging his inert body out of the lobby. His assassin stood by the door, unmoving, guns still in hand. Two burly security guards moved and quickly grabbed him, keeping him from escaping. Mack’s side ached fiercely. He placed a hand against it and attempted a deep breath. Instead he ended up coughing uncontrollably. He lifted his hand and saw blood smeared on it.
“Help,” he tried to yell, but it came out more of a weak whisper. Mack lifted his head, but the men were blurring. He tried to push himself up, but dizziness washed over him. He squinted his eyes and thought he saw a familiar face. “Gabe!” he called twice before the man in question looked over.
“M
ack?”
Mack let his head fall back on the marble floor and waited for oblivion to overcome him.
“Mack!” The voice sounded a long way off, and something pushed firmly against his side, making him wince. “I need help over here!”
“Don’t let Grandmother see me like this.”
“Grandmother is the least of your worries, old man.”
Mack smirked followed by a grimace of pain, then the darkness blessedly rolled in on him.
***
“Chang, I’ll be back shortly.”
“Be careful, Missy Cassie.”
“I will.” She left the house and walked to the corner, waving down a familiar looking young boy.
“Good evening, Alfred.”
“H’lo, miss. Another delivery?”
“Yes, please.” Cassie passed the envelope and some money to the young boy.
“I’ll ‘ave it there in a jif, Miss Cassie.”
“Thank you, Alfred. Tell your mother hello.”
“Will do.” The boy tipped his hat and took off like a shot.
Cassie watched him run down two blocks before he turned a corner and disappeared from sight. She waved a friendly greeting to some of the people she knew as she turned towards home. The sun began to wane in the sky, causing long shadows to fall. Halfway to the house, Cassie passed two buildings with a space between them. Just as she was going past that space, a hand manacled itself about her wrist and pulled her into the shadows. Her hand was twisted behind her back, forcing her stomach against the brick building.
“We’ll have none of that fancy stuff you have been practicing in your garden with that China man of yours,” said the unfamiliar voice.
“What do you want?”
“No, Mademoiselle Graham, you see, I am going to talk, and you are going to listen. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, I think you will find it quite interesting to know that I know where your father is.”
“How?” she asked trying to turn around. She felt herself slammed back into the wall. Her cheek scraped against the brick.
The man made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Remember, you listen only. And no peeking. Oui?”
“Yes,” she growled, trying not to squirm away from the feel of stale, heated breath against her ear.
“Now, where was I? Oh, yes, your dear father. I might be willing to let you know where he is if you can gather me information from a certain director.”
“He won’t even tell me where my father is. How am I to get the information you require?”
“Ingenuity, my dear mademoiselle. You see, Director McKenzie has information that we could find very useful for our part of the war. In fact it could be over in a matter of weeks once we have what we are looking for.”
“And how does my father fit into this?”
“You get me the information, and we release your father.”
“But Papa…”
“Used to be in the hands of your most excellent government, but we have relieved them of their burden.” Cassie struggled and attempted to turn around, but the man held her firmly in place. “Now, now, mademoiselle, just listen and no one will get hurt. Oui? Good,” he said as she settled down. “We believe Director McKenzie is in possession of highly confidential maps. These maps are future battle plans. We want them.”
Cassie remembered seeing maps in the study when she had entered it. “It seems you have not heard, monsieur, that Director McKenzie is no longer in the war business.”
“What?”
“He has been removed from his position.”
“Ah, well, that is too bad for your dear Papa.”
“Wait!” Cassie said as the man started to leave. “I will do what I can, please, just give me a chance.” A pregnant pause greeted her. “Please,” she begged.
“I will give you a week to find the information I seek.”
“A week? How am I supposed to do that?”
“Again, ingenuity, mademoiselle.”
“And when I find what you seek?” He rattled off an address where the information should be sent.
“How do I know this particular map from any other?”
“Now that is an interesting question. One to which you will have to determine the answer.”
“I want proof that you truly have my father,” Cassie demanded.
“Ah, I thought you might.”
Cassie stiffened as a muffler was wrapped loosely around her neck, before being tightened enough to cause her heart to race in panic.
“Are you satisfied now with the proof, mademoiselle?”
Cassie nodded jerkily as the scent of her father’s pipe assailed her.
“Excellent. I am going to leave you now. Count to one hundred, very slowly before you come out of this nook. Oui?”
“Yes.”
“Begin.”
“One, two, three—”
“Slower.”
“Four…five…six,” Cassie continued counting, her heart pounding in her ears. She made it to fifty before she stepped out of the dark chasm. Looking around, she found the streets to be almost empty. She made her way back to the house and let herself in before locking the door. Cassie leaned against the door letting emotion finally overtake her. She began to tremble.
“That you, Missy Cassie? Supper almost ready.”
“Yes, Chang,” her voice warbled.
“Missy Cassie, what wrong?” Chang asked when he entered the hall and saw Cassie.
“Oh, Chang,” Cassie threw herself into the arms of the wiry old man.
“There, there, you tell Chang what wrong.” Cassie told the man, who was more like a dear uncle than a servant, everything that had happened. “Where is this man? I find him and take care of him for you.”
“No, Chang. They will do something to Papa. I must play their game, unfortunately.”
“What will you do?”
“I will search McKenzie’s house tonight. He had a lot of papers scattered across his desk. Some of them were maps. If I don’t find what I am looking for there, then I will search his old office.”
“I go with you.”
“No, Chang. I can take care of myself.”
“You did a good job of it today, Missy Cassie.”
“I was not expecting him, Chang. Next time I will be ready, I can promise you that.”
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Enticing the Weary Warrior Page 37