Regency Wolfe: A de Wolfe Pack Connected World collection of Victorian and Regency Tales

by Mary Lancaster

  Marcus stared at her, unable to believe his eyes. Why was she boarding his ship with a man who was supposed to be in prison?

  “I believe we’re outnumbered,” Hawke advised. “We need a better plan than to simply confront them.”

  Several men awaited Culbert’s approach near the ship’s railing.

  “I thought the police were going to assist us,” Samuel said.

  “As did I.” Marcus looked at his two companions. “Why don’t the two of you wait here for them. I’ll see if I can somehow negotiate her release.”

  “I’ll join you,” Hawke offered. “Samuel can direct the police.”

  “I’m going to help rescue the lady,” Samuel protested. “The police can find us of their own accord.”

  “Very well,” Marcus said as he started toward his ship, heart thudding. “With luck, we can find some way to distract them and free Tessa.”

  “That’s not much of a plan,” Hawke countered.

  “I’m open to suggestions.”

  “I’ll share a better one as soon as I think of it. Do either of you have weapons?”

  Samuel gave a nod. “I have a pistol in my waistband and a knife in my boot.”

  “As do I,” Marcus added.

  “Excellent. That helps even the odds.”

  A crewmember stood on the dock at the end of the ramp leading to the boat. From the look on his face as he stared at them, he didn’t intend to allow them to pass.

  Marcus didn’t break his stride as he brushed past him, knocking him down. Samuel struck the man when he attempted to rise. The three men continued onto the ramp.

  Tessa was no longer in view, nor was Culbert. Marcus decided the best option would be to confront the captain. From what Hiddleston had confessed under duress when Marcus had returned to terminate his employment, the captain was one of the leaders of the group.

  Several men gathered where the ramp attached to the ship. Fighting them would only delay him reaching Tessa. He withdrew his pistol from his pocket and pointed it at the chest of the man nearest the ramp.

  The man’s eyes went wide, and he held up his hands, palms out, and backed away slowly. The other men did the same. Marcus passed through them, keeping his pistol at the ready. A glance over his shoulder showed Hawke and Samuel following but keeping their pistols directed at the men to make certain they weren’t rushed from behind.

  Marcus continued toward the bridge where the captain should be. With luck, that was where Culbert had taken Tessa. One of the men they’d passed called out, warning the other crewmembers of trouble. Several hurried out but only one held a gun. He lowered it when he saw he was outnumbered.

  Taking that as an invitation to the bridge, Marcus kept walking. The door stood ajar. Relief filled him when he spotted Tessa. Damn, what was she doing here? Unfortunately, Culbert stood directly behind her. From the frightened look on Tessa’s face, he had to assume Culbert had already threatened her, probably with that damned blade he always seemed to carry.

  He drew a breath in an attempt to contain the anger flowing through him. Culbert smirked as he stared at Marcus. The captain seemed less than surprised to see him as he raised a gun and pointed it at Marcus.

  “I suppose Hiddleston told you to expect me,” Marcus said.

  “We may have had a few words.” Captain Thomas nodded.

  His lack of concern at the situation worried Marcus. Or perhaps the man was simply overconfident. No matter. Marcus intended to come out of this with the upper hand. And Tessa.

  Samuel guarded the door, making certain no one else entered. Hawke stood near Marcus.

  Marcus glared at Culbert. “I’m surprised to see you out of prison.”

  Culbert smiled. “I’ve friends in high places.”

  Realizing he’d underestimated the number of people involved in this terrible trade, he set aside the information for now. He needed to get Tessa out of danger before he worried about such things. “Release Miss Maycroft,” Marcus demanded.

  “Not until you and your men are off my ship,” the captain countered.

  “We’ll also be taking the girls in the cargo hold with us,” Marcus continued as though Captain Thomas hadn’t spoken.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The captain smiled, but it was far from pleasant.

  “Hiddleston already told me everything. I know about the girls and how you sell them in Brussels.”

  Thomas’s eyes narrowed with displeasure.

  “Have one of your men bring up the girls,” Marcus ordered.

  “I don’t think so,” Culbert said as he prodded Tessa in the back, causing her to gasp. “Your lady here wants them to stay below.”

  “Culbert, you fool,” the captain said. “Keep your mouth shut.”

  Marcus glanced at Hawke out of the corner of his eye, hoping he had an idea of how to end this standoff. Perhaps all those years in the military had given him experience that would be helpful.

  Hawke tipped his head to the side ever so slightly toward the captain. Marcus assumed he intended to disarm him. That left Marcus to take care of Culbert, and Samuel to continue guarding the open door.

  He gave the barest of nods to Hawke then caught Tessa’s gaze. With Culbert watching him, he couldn’t be too obvious, but he wanted to give her a warning of what was to come.

  Tessa’s gaze fastened on Marcus as though waiting for his signal. Before he had a chance to worry about what she might be thinking, she thrust her elbow into Culbert’s belly. Then she raised her foot to stomp on his.

  Hawke’s movements were a blur as he dove for the captain.

  Marcus rushed Culbert as Tessa spun out of the man’s grasp. Though the man bent over in pain, he still held his knife.

  “Stupid woman,” Culbert yelled and lunged for her. He caught her arm, but Tessa jerked free.

  Marcus didn’t dare try to fire a shot. Not with Tessa so close. He reached down and drew his knife from his boot then leaped for Culbert. His knife found its mark in Culbert’s shoulder, bringing them both to the floor. Culbert screamed but still didn’t release his knife. The man twisted, managing to wrench his arm free from Marcus’s grasp. His blade sliced through Marcus’s jacket.

  “No,” Tessa cried out. She tugged Culbert’s hat down over his eyes, temporarily blinding him.

  Her action distracted Culbert enough for Marcus to squeeze the man’s wrist until he dropped the knife.

  “Hold. Police,” someone shouted.

  A policeman grabbed Culbert’s knife and stood on the man’s wrist. Another kneeled beside Marcus and grabbed Culbert’s flailing arm. “We’ll take it from here, my lord.”

  Marcus stood, his gaze seeking Tessa. Her eyes were wide as she took in the scene around her then looked at Marcus. She bit back a sob and moved toward him as he reached to draw her close.

  Her body trembled against his. Or perhaps that was his form that shook.

  “Did he cut you?” she asked, staring at him.

  Marcus looked down. “Only my jacket.”

  “Thank goodness. I’m so sorry, Marcus,” she whispered. “I didn’t know.”

  “Shh. It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re all right.”

  She nodded, breathing deeply to calm herself.

  Marcus glanced at Hawke who, despite his injured leg, had easily disarmed and subdued the captain. His friend seemed none the worse for wear. Captain Thomas was being hauled to his feet by two policemen.

  Samuel spoke with another of the policeman, gesturing toward the stairs that would take them below decks. The crew was being rounded up as well.

  “Where are the girls?” Tessa asked.

  The door to the lower deck opened, and a girl peeked out. A policeman reassured her, but she turned to look back into the doorway. Another girl stepped out and then another. Six girls in all exited the door.

  Marcus could only shake his head. “Do you know any of them?”

  Tessa’s gaze rested on the last one. “Yes.” She glanced up at
Marcus. “I’ll speak with them to reassure them.”

  He reluctantly released her. As she neared the girls, they gathered around her. The police inspector stood beside Tessa, and they both spoke to the girls, reassuring them all was well before explaining what happened.

  Hawke drew near, but kept his gaze on Tessa. “I’m glad to see you’ve found someone new in your life.”

  “I don’t know that I can say that.” Marcus had yet to win Tessa’s hand. After his terrible blunder, he wasn’t certain she’d forgive him.

  “Have no doubt. You can.” Hawke smiled at him.

  Tessa glanced over her shoulder at him, those green eyes seeking his. Her tremulous smile warmed his heart.

  “Yes, I believe you’re right. With luck and an apology, or perhaps several, I believe she’ll soon be my bride.”

  Epilogue

  3 Months Later, Wolfe’s Lair, Northumberland

  Tessa breezed into the library, a piece of cloth in her hand. Her husband—her heart sighed at the description—sat at his massive mahogany desk in the library, penning correspondence.

  As she reached his chair, he set down his pen.

  “What am I interrupting?” she asked.

  “You are never interrupting, my sweet,” he said as he drew her down onto his lap. “I’m writing to Hawke.”

  “Oh?”

  He pointed to the book that sat on his desk. “I’m sending him something I think he’ll find of great interest.”

  She leaned forward to look at the title. “The Seven Curses of London by James Greenwood.”

  “The author has cleverly described the seven worst blights that plague London. Hawke took such an interest in the scheme of selling the girls in Brussels that I thought he might find this of interest as well.”

  “You’re hoping he’ll take action, aren’t you?”

  Marcus smiled. “Perhaps. Hawke has always been a man of action.”

  “Are you certain you don’t want to travel to London and give it to him yourself?”

  “We were married only a few short weeks ago. I am still enjoying wedded bliss. Why would I want to interrupt that?” He frowned at the cloth in her hand. “What is this?”

  “A sample.” She glanced down and smoothed the pastel yellow in her hands, nerves simmering deep inside her. “I wanted to ask your opinion.”

  “I thought you didn’t care for pastels.” He fingered the royal blue gown she wore.

  “Aunt Betty and I were discussing what fabric might be best for the nursery.” She glanced at him from under her lashes to see if he understood what she was saying.

  “The nursery—” He stared at her with wonder in his eyes. “Truly?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “Truly. I believe we’re expecting a babe.”

  He blinked rapidly. “Tessa.”

  Already she could hear the worry in his voice. Heart squeezing, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I feel amazing, Marcus. And I am so, so happy. Our life together is a dream come true.”

  He blew out a breath and held her gaze. “I love you very much. I am so blessed.”

  “You couldn’t possibly love me as much as I love you.” Tessa leaned in to kiss him, long and deep. “I picked the right man to trust.”

  “How could I have resisted the angel who saved me?”

  “I’m so glad you didn’t.” Tessa hugged him, loving the feel of his arms around her. “I promise to love you forever and a day, Marcus.”

  “Forever and a day. Agreed.” He kissed her, sealing their promise. “But it won’t be nearly long enough.”

  Tessa laughed as she snuggled deeper into her Wolfe’s embrace.

  The Seven Curses of London series continues! Turn the page for a sneak peek at Nathaniel Hawke’s story, LOVING THE HAWKE, Book 1 of The Seven Curses of London series.

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  Sneak Peek – Loving the Hawke

  Chapter One

  “It is a startling fact that, in England and Wales alone, at the present time, the number of children under the age of sixteen, dependent more or less on the parochial authorities for maintenance, amounts to three hundred and fifty thousand.”

  ~The Seven Curses of London, I. Neglected Children

  By James Greenwood, 1869

  London, England, June 1870

  Letitia Fairchild’s stomach fluttered with nerves as she walked toward Blackfriars Bridge, wondering if she was truly capable of completing her mission. The bridge’s polished red granite pillars and ornamental stone parapets were attractive, and the view of St. Paul’s Cathedral was magnificent, as promised. But that was not what had brought her to this rather undesirable part of central London just before noon on a mild June day.

  To her surprise, being here was a much different experience than reading about it. Warehouses and factories lined the River Thames to the south while a mix of homes, shops, and additional warehouses stood on the north.

  She couldn’t help but place her gloved hand over her nose. The stench emanating from the river would be far worse in another month when the warm weather ripened the smell of sewage, industrial waste, and factory smoke, creating an even stronger fetor. The streets were dirty here, and the people passing by weren’t the type with whom she normally bumped elbows. These men and women made their living working hard and had never attended The Derby or ridden on Rotten Row. Their clothing was simple and worn, their faces pale and tired. The general desperation and dreariness of the neighborhood took her aback.

  She felt as out of place here as she did in the many ballrooms of which she’d graced the walls during her five Seasons. Seasons that had begun with hope but quickly faded to embarrassment, now leaving her resigned to spinsterhood. Mostly.

  Yet she forced herself to march forward, uncertainty plaguing her every step. Today was the day she’d finally have a purpose, a reason for her existence beyond caring for her four younger sisters.

  She’d planned this outing carefully. Midday was surely the safest time to be in the area. A few people walked across the bridge but none she sought. She wished she’d brought her pin watch though she’d decided against doing so to avoid catching the attention of unsavory characters. Her maid and footman waited with the carriage several streets from here, where they thought she browsed in a bookstore. The plain cloak she wore covered her modest but fashionable gown.

  As a sudden throng of young girls crossed the bridge, rushing directly toward her, she realized the time for luncheon had arrived. Based on her research, they were between the ages of ten and thirteen, though many appeared much younger. Lettie searched for a target to approach but had no idea how to choose. A few of the girls passing by caught her gaze but quickly glanced away as though to avoid her. She frowned. How could she make them see she was here to help? With four younger sisters, she thought she knew girls well, yet none of these were acting as she’d expected. Perhaps it would be best if she approached a younger one who might be less guarded.

  “Excuse me,” she said, giving a friendly smile to one with a thin face and a long braid down her back.

  “Leave off,” the girl said with a snarl.

  “Oh.” Lettie froze, shocked at the response.

  Now she stood directly in the path of the girls, and many jostled her as they hurried past on their way to eat a ‘meager luncheon’ prior to returning to their ‘jobs in factories or slop-shops,’ according to the book she’d studied. Lettie wasn’t clear what exactly a slop-shop was. The name sounded less than appealing, but that was of little consequence. Surely one or two of these girls would welcome the chance for a different life.

  Lettie pursed her lips, still determined to complete her objective of finding one of London’s ‘neglected children’ to aid. She glanced about and selected another girl to approach.

  “Excuse me,” she tried again, half-expecting another abrupt response.

  Instead, the girl paused, her brown gaze searching Lettie’s face. “What is it? Are ye lost?”

&nbs
p; The odd question gave her pause. Did she look as out of place as she felt? It seemed she couldn’t mask her ineptitude here any better than she could at a ball. “No. I—I have come to offer my assistance.” She wasn’t quite certain what else to say. The conversation had never progressed this far in her mind.

  “With what?” The girl’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  “Whatever you might need. Do you consider yourself a ‘neglected child’?”

  “A what?” The girl drew back a step, her body stiffening as caution filled her pale, thin face.

  Lettie tried again, growing more uncertain by the moment. “Can I help you in some way?”

  “What are ye about?” Two older girls paused to hear what Lettie was saying. “Why are ye botherin’ little Alice?”

  “I’m terribly sorry. I’m saying this all wrong.” Lettie searched for a way to offer help without insulting or frightening the girl. “I’m here to offer an apprenticeship to one or two of you. My dressmaker is in need of two young women who are hard working, honest individuals interested in making a better life for themselves.”

  “A dressmaker?” one of the older girls asked. “Ha. Is she one of those la-de-da women who pretends to have a Frenchie accent?” She held out her hand, little finger lifted and pursed her lips to exaggerate her cheekbones.

  The other girl snorted with laughter. “That’s a good one. I heard tell those sort of dressmakers will work yer fingers to the bone.”

  The confidence of these girls, as well as their camaraderie, sent a pang of envy through Lettie. Neither of those attributes had ever been within her reach. She’d served more as a mother than a friend to her sisters, and somehow, the chance to make friends of her own had slipped by.

  The younger girl, Alice, ignored her companions and studied Lettie closely. “Are ye fer real askin’ or just fishin’ for girls to sell?”

  “What?” Lettie blinked rapidly, shocked the girl would think such a thing. “No, of course not. I am trying to find a child to help. One who is being forced to work in a factory against her will.”