Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection

by Lana Williams

  “And if you cannot find the man, or even figure out who he is? What if his service was not the forgery?” Sinclair balanced his glass, while flicking off a speck of dust from his sleeve.

  “I will find him.” Hunter did not bother addressing the remaining question. This C. Lionhurst had to be the key to stopping Wolfe.

  Persisting, Sinclair lifted one blond brow. “And if the man refuses to help?”

  “He will not.” Hunter slammed his glass down on the side table. “We will not allow it. I cannot fathom what Miss Woodcourt may attempt next if I should fail her.” Hunter studied the wallpaper near the hearth.

  He blindly stared at the burgundy scrolls, as he recalled the feel of her pressed against him. He could not allow himself to spend much more time with her. It would be detrimental to them both. He did not trust himself to keep his hands off her.

  “My God, the chit has gotten to you.” A slow smile spread across Sinclair’s lips.

  “She most certainly has not.” Hunter looked away as he took a drink of his brandy.

  “She is rather alluring, running about in men’s clothing and breaking into offices. I must admit she charmed me as well.”

  “Nonsense. I am not interested in Miss Woodcourt. If not for my sister, I would not be involved in this mess at all. I am only helping because I am too honorable to ignore her plight.” He filled his glass again before setting the decanter down with a sharp thud.

  “Keep feeding yourself that line of rubbish, old friend.” Sinclair chuckled.

  Hunter strolled to where Sinclair sat, decanter in hand. “Here, have another drink. It may clear your mind of those delusions.” He held out the liquor and Sinclair took it.

  “Would you like for me to accompany you tomorrow? I may be of some assistance.” Sinclair smirked. “Or will our spunky chit be joining you to find and interrogate C. Lionhurst?”

  Hunter blew out a breath. “Miss Woodcourt assures me she will not be executing any more plans. You are welcome to assist me.” The idea of her accompanying him sent his pulse rate through the roof. What if the man became aggressive? She could be harmed. He would kill this Lionhurst fellow before he allowed the man to harm a hair on her pretty head.

  “Very well.” Sinclair stood. “I will return with the sun.”

  Hunter nodded. The sooner, the better, in his opinion.

  “May sweet dreams of the brave, spirited beauty fill your night.” Sinclair turned to take his leave. “I know she will appear in mine.”

  Hunter glowered at Sinclair as he bolted from his chair. “Keep her out of your dreams.” The words came out rough, threatening.

  “And there you have it. Honor has nothing on infatuation.” Sinclair chuckled as he made his way out of the parlor.

  Bloody hell. He played right into Sinclair’s hand. Now, the viscount was no doubt convinced he cared for Miss Woodcourt. His actions were proof of nothing. He would do the same for any damsel in distress. He took another drink of brandy.

  The memory of her lips pressed to his flashed through his mind, causing his breeches to grow tight. Lust, nothing more. After tomorrow, everything would return to normal. She would be out of his life.

  * * * *

  Sleep did not come easy. Hunter tossed and turned for the better part of the night. Thoughts of Miss Woodcourt tormented his mind. At last, he admitted he cared for her. It did no good to deny his feelings. He could not hide the truth from himself. Nor did admitting them change anything. He could not have her. Society would never allow the suit.

  He gave himself a mental shake, slid from his mount, and followed Sinclair to the door. Before retiring last night, Hunter spoke with a trusted man he had used for locating people in the past.

  This morning, an address was delivered to him. As it happened, there were only two living C. Lionhurst’s in London. One of them was yet a wee babe. He glanced at Sinclair. “Ready?”

  Sinclair nodded then knocked on the weathered wooden pain.

  The door to the small abode on one of London’s poorer streets creaked open. A middle-aged woman stood before him with red, swollen eyes, one hand fisted against her chest.

  Hunter forced a smile. “We have come to call on Mr. Lionhurst.”

  Tears pooled in the woman’s eyes. “I am afraid that is not possible.”

  “We come on an urgent matter. Pray tell, when might he be available?” Hunter glanced over his shoulder at Sinclair.

  “My Cecil was pulled from the River Thames this very morn.” Her shoulders shook with another round of tears.

  “We are sorry to hear of your loss.” Sinclair clapped Hunter on the shoulder. “Do the authorities know what happened?”

  She sniffled. “They say he was shot.”

  Hunter suffered a moment of shock before he recovered himself. “Did your husband ever speak of a Mr. Wolfe?”

  “Not that I can recall.” The woman sniffled.

  Hunter turned for his waiting mount. “Bloody hell. Let’s go.”

  “Thank you for your time.” Sinclair nodded to the woman before following Hunter.

  “It seems this Mr. Wolfe may be more dangerous than I gave him credit for.” Hunter swung into the saddle. “Go report what we know to the Bow Street Runners.” He handed Sinclair the note they had found and a pouch of coins. “Hire them. I am going to pay a call on Miss Woodcourt.”

  Chapter 8

  Rose marched after the men carrying her settee toward the front door. “You cannot take our things.” She moved to block the exit, pressing her back against the door, her glare fixed on the larger of the two men.

  “If we have to, we will move you out of the way, miss. Do not force our hands.”

  His words sent a chill through her. Still, she could not stand idly by watching them toss her belongings onto the lawn. “This is not at all legal. Mr. Wolfe got our home by nefarious means. The Earl of Aubry is at this very moment proving it. Put my settee back and kindly take your leave.” She lifted her chin in challenge.

  As they lowered the settee back to the floor, she released a breath. The burly one’s face twisted into a menacing scowl, causing her heart to drop.

  “Go. Move her.” He nodded to his lanky companion.

  Blast it, she had celebrated too soon. Rose held her ground, keeping her back rigid. “Do not dare lay a hand on me.”

  The man merely smirked and continued to advance on her.

  “The earl will not be pleased.” She doubted Lord Aubry would care in the least, but she had to say something.

  The thinner man took another step before he stopped to glance around. “Where is this earl you speak of? I see none about.” He chuckled and took another step.

  “Wait.” Gran came to her side, placing an arm about her waist. “Come away from the door, dear. These men are carrying out their orders and we must allow it.” She gazed at Rose, her bespectacled eyes warm and beseeching.

  “No. This is our home.” Rose dug in her heels to fight against Gran’s tugging. “We cannot abide them tossing us out.”

  Gran held a wrinkled hand up to the smaller man when he took another step toward Rose. “It will all work out. Once Lord Aubry fixes this, we will have everything put back.” She tugged again and Rose acquiesced, allowing Gran to steer her from the doorway.

  “Where will we go? We have nowhere else to live.” She turned back to the door, but Gran tightened her grip, as she continued to direct Rose away from the entrance.

  “You said Lord Aubry is handling it, and I believe he is.” Gran stopped them at the back of the entry, wrapped her arms around Rose, and pulled her close. “Fear not, all will be as it should. Now is the time to be brave, not foolish.”

  Foolish? Was it not more foolish to stand back while these men cast their belongings into the yard? Rose pulled away. “And if he does not succeed? What then? Where shall we lay our heads tonight? Or the next? And all the nights thereafter?” She met Gran’s hazel eyes. “This is our home.”

  “You will move into my townhouse str
aight away.”

  Rose jerked her head to look in the direction of Wolfe’s raspy voice. A chill trickled down her spine. His blocky frame filled the doorway, his beady gaze focused on her. The look of victory etched upon his face turned her stomach.

  “You left me no choice, my pet. I had to move things along.”

  “I am not your pet,” Rose ground the words out. “You have wasted your time. I shall no more consent to living with you than I will to marrying you.” She lifted her chin a notch. “I would much prefer to sleep under the stars.”

  He sauntered in her direction, a smirk splitting his face. “You are most entertaining, darling. However, you will be coming with me and we will be married. I already spoke to my clergyman. In three weeks, the bans will be completed, and you will take me as your wedded husband.” He grabbed her elbow with one meaty hand and leaned in so close, she choked on the scent of tobacco radiating from his breath. “You have no other choice. You are out of options.”

  Eyes wide, she tried to yank her arm free, but his grip tightened. She jerked with all of her strength. “Release me. I am not your property, nor shall I ever be your wife. You have no right.”

  He released her arm, his lips contorted into the semblance of a smile. “As I have already stated, you have no choice. You will be moving into my townhouse this evening.”

  “Ah, but she does have another option.”

  The smooth tone of Lord Aubry’s voice turned her head. His masculine baritone calmed her racing heart. The earl leaned confidently against the banister. He flashed a wicked grin at her before turning his attention to Wolfe. Her neck and cheeks flushed pink with heat.

  Lord Aubry pinned Mr. Wolfe with his searing gaze. “Miss Woodcourt and Mrs. Oaklawn have a cottage on my estate open to them.”

  “Like hell they do! I forbid it.” Wolfe moved between Rose and Lord Aubry. “The woman is my betrothed. You have no right to interfere in our domestic affairs.”

  “You. Forbid. It.” Lord Aubry accentuated each word.

  Rose took in a ragged breath. “I most certainly am not betrothed to you.” Stepping around him she moved to stand in front of Lord Aubry. “Gran and I accept your offer and thank you for your kindness.”

  “Very well. My carriage will take you to the estate. I will have your belongings delivered straight away.” Lord Aubry averted his gaze.

  “We owe you a great debt for your kindness, my lord.” Gran dipped into a curtsy.

  Wolfe stomped forward and took Rose’s arm. He squeezed it so hard she had to bite back a cry. “Rose belongs to me. I will not allow you to take her anywhere.”

  “The lady clearly protests. Release her now before I am forced to put you out of commission.” Lord Aubry bit out the words.

  “You do not frighten me.” Wolfe locked his gaze on Rose. “Come along.” He tugged her, but gained no ground.

  Her pulse thumped as she struggled to pull her arm loose. “I will never go anywhere with you.”

  Gran rushed forward and began swatting at Wolfe. “There is no betrothal. You have no claim on my granddaughter.”

  Rose looked to the men who had come to evict her. They stood at the front door staring at the lot of them. She glanced back at Lord Aubry.

  Wolfe released her. He turned, shoving Gran so hard she stumbled backward. “Mind your manners, old woman, lest I have you placed in Bedlam for--.”

  Lord Aubry stalked up to Wolfe, grabbed a fistful of his day coat, and spun him around.

  Rose’s heart thumped against her ribs as she wrapped an arm around Gran.

  Wolfe swung straight for Lord Aubry’s face.

  * * * *

  In the heartbeat before Wolfe’s fist connected with his face, Hunter weaved to the side. Wolfe’s punch impacted his shoulder, sending shards of pain through him. He shut the throbbing out and threw a solid hit to Wolfe’s jaw. The resounding crack filled the space as Wolfe crumbled into a heap.

  Hunter clenched his hand while staring down at Wolfe’s unmoving form. Never had fisticuffs been so satisfying. He glanced at Rose who stood hugging Mrs. Oaklawn to her before turning to the men in the doorway. “Take the rubbish out to the lawn, and afterward, return to help move the women’s things.” He reached into his pocket before tossing a few coins to the men.

  Rose moved to Hunter’s side. “Are you hurt?” Concern filled her green eyes.

  He wrapped an arm around her, stroked her silky hair with his free hand. She leaned in, pressing her face against his chest. Heaven help him, but he savored the feel of her.

  “All is well. The authorities will take care of him. Once they do, you can return to your home.”

  She glanced up at him, eyes wide.

  His heart leapt at the sight, a thrill coursing through him. She was so beautiful and innocent. How would he survive having her at his home?

  “Let us get you into the carriage. My driver will take you both to Aubry House for the evening.”

  Miss Woodcourt glanced at her grandmother. The older woman nodded before moving toward the door.

  Hunter let his footman hand them into the carriage. The crested door shut behind them, concealing Miss Woodcourt from his view. “Take them to Aubry House and have a maid settle them. They are to be treated as any other guest.”

  The footman nodded.

  “Send a wagon to collect their belongings and have them delivered to the vacant cottage on my country estate.” Roselawn Manor would be a safe place for them until Wolfe could be properly dealt with.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  The crunch of his carriage upon the drive filled his ears as it moved away, taking the women to safety. Hunter strode to where Wolfe now lay upon the crisp grass. His stomach knotted. The man was despicable. Lower than the flea’s that clung to London’s rats.

  With luck, the authorities would find the evidence Sinclair brought to them convincing. If they did, they would soon be around to collect the appalling man lying on the ground before him.

  He glanced up at an approaching horse as he stepped away from Wolfe’s unconscious body.

  Sinclair swung down from his mount, amusement etching his face. “What have we here?” He glanced at Wolfe’s unconscious form, sprawled on the grass.

  Hunter waved his hand through the air dismissively. “Pay no mind. Did you get the note to the authorities?”

  “Indeed, though I would not expect him to take up residence at Newgate any time soon.” Sinclair rocked back on his heels.

  “I take it they were not obliged to believe our theory.”

  “They were more concerned with how I got the note and why I cared about people below my class.” He expelled a breath of releif. “In the end, they agreed to look into the matter based on your coin.”

  “Bloody hell.” Hunter glanced back down at Wolfe before looking at Sinclair again. “Help me get him out of here. Grab his feet while I take his arms.” He placed his hands under the man’s arms while Sinclair hoisted his feet. “We will put him in his carriage and order the driver to take him home.”

  Sinclair nodded just as Wolfe’s booted foot slipped from his grip. It thumped the ground before Sinclair managed to recapture it. Wolfe’s eye’s opened a fraction, a groan emitted from his lips.

  Hunter stilled. Maybe the man would pass back out. Relief washed through him when Wolfe’s eyes closed again.

  “Open the door,” Sinclair bellowed.

  The driver scrambled from his bench.

  “Be easy with him, I do not wish to rouse him.” Still holding Wolfe’s arms, Hunter stepped into the carriage, hoisting the unconscious man onto the seat. Sinclair pushed his legs up so he lay across the plush surface.

  Hunter exited the conveyance before turning his attention to Wolfe’s driver. “Take him home.”

  The driver sketched a bow. “Straight away, my lords.”

  Hunter strolled back toward the cottage, Sinclair on his heels.

  “Do you intend to fill me in, or is it your plan to leave me guessing?” Sinclair�
�s eyes sparkled.

  Hunter turned to him. “There is not much to report. The bloody fool evicted the women. Then he dared to place his hands on them.”

  “Women? There is more than one?”

  Hunter nodded. “Miss Woodcourt lives with her grandmother, Mrs. Oaklawn.”

  “And where are the women now?”

  “Aubry House.”

  Sinclair arched a brow. “The plot keeps getting richer. What do you intend to do with the spirited chit?”

  Hunter’s heart beat faster. Heaven help me keep her safe. “Enough about Miss Woodcourt. I must focus on putting a stop to Wolfe.”

  Sinclair cuffed his shoulder. “Give it a bit of time. They did say they would be questioning him as part of their investigation. As it was, the note did not provide enough evidence to bring any charges against him, but the authorities will put a stop to him. All in due time.”

  Not soon enough for Hunter’s liking. He would have to find a way to keep Miss Woodcourt safe, even from himself. It would be best if he remained in London at the townhouse, but he could not ignore his responsibilities. Duty demanded he return to Roselawn.

  The wagon he had sent for came down the drive distracting him from his thoughts. Hunter strolled into the cottage, removing his day coat as he went. The sooner they emptied the dwelling, the sooner he could return home. A smile spread across his face. Bloody fool, you cannot have her.

  Chapter 9

  The idea of Miss Woodcourt belonging to another man set Hunter’s nerves on end. He despised the idea of anyone other than him being intimate with her, knowing the parts of herself she kept secret--her mind, body, and soul.

  Pebbles crunched under his boots as he made his way toward Aubry House. Betrothal be damned, he would never allow Wolfe to marry her.