If He’s Wild

by Howell, Hannah

  A grunt drew his attention, and he watched a bleary-eyed Gifford shuffle over to the sideboard. The man piled his plate high with food and shuffled to the table to slump into a chair. A silent servant poured Gifford some rich-smelling coffee. Suddenly, Hartley was starving. He picked out what he wanted from an impressive assortment of food and joined Gifford at the table just as Aldus walked in. Aldus looked almost as bad as Gifford did.

  “Rough night?” he asked as he poured himself some of the strong coffee Aldus always served.

  “I was chasing down the bastard who hurt Alethea,” said Aldus, already beginning to look more awake after drinking some of the coffee.

  “And I was following that damned woman,” said Gifford. “She never sleeps, and I do not believe she meant to be faithful to you, Hartley.” He grinned slightly before stuffing his face with sausage.

  “I am devastated.” He pushed aside the moment of humor and asked,” Did you get the man, Aldus?”

  “No, curse it twice,” grumbled Aldus. “He is a slippery devil. Do have some information on him, however, that will make the hunt easier. I think he may be some relation to Claudette. Pierre Leon. Has few allies in the city, as he is a cheat, a liar, and a bully. Someone will give him up soon.”

  “Good. I want him, and not just for what he did to Alethea. We will need him to help prove Claudette is what we claim she is. I have been slowly compiling a list of the men she has slept with, and it will take all we can find to get her to pay for her crimes. But I did not come here and roust the two of you out of bed just to discuss Claudette and her minions.”

  “No? What else are we working on?”

  “Finding my niece and nephew.”

  Aldus grimaced and rubbed a hand over his hair. “Damn me. Sorry, Hart. I am not completely awake yet.”

  “Quite all right. There is a lot on our plates at the moment, and this is not your family.”

  “Still, children lost in that morass in France should be remembered. Have you heard some news?”

  “Not exactly. Alethea had another vision.” In between sips of coffee, Hartley told his friends all Alethea had told him. He then cleared the table enough to set out the pictures she had drawn. “I think they have been hiding as laborers all this time, or as part of a family. Both of them spoke excellent French, so that would be no problem for them.”

  “But did she tell you how they are now? ’Tis little help to us if this vision was of, let us say, a month or more ago. They could have moved.”

  “Or been hurt or captured. I know all that, Aldus, much as I would like to ignore that cruel truth. But this is the first time we have been given any idea of where in France they might be. Even a name or part of a name. I thought I might give this to the men leaving for France tonight so that they can pass it along to my men. It might aid them in their search.”

  Aldus studied the pictures Alethea had drawn as he finished his food and then pushed his plate aside. “I am still astonished by how well she draws. I feel as though I should recognize that little farmhouse, yet I do not understand why I should.”

  “Mayhap you can think of the reason as we go to find those men.”

  It took them an hour to leave the house as both Aldus and Gifford took time to tidy their appearance. By the time they headed out in his carriage, Hartley’s good mood was a little frayed around the edges. It only got worse as they tried to find the two men who would be slipping away to France that very night.

  Hartley was muttering that it would be faster if he found a ship to France and took the message to his men himself, when Aldus had the carriage stop and leapt out. The stink of the docks slapped Hartley in the face as he followed his friend, Gifford close on his heels. They wove their way through the crowds until Aldus quickly approached two men. Hartley slowed to a halt, Gifford at his side, and let Aldus do the talking. He had no doubt that these were the men they sought. He did not recognize them, but that was no surprise. There were too many men and too many different branches of the government for anyone to know everyone, especially when some did not wish to be known. The men who slipped in and out of France most certainly did not want to be known. Aldus did better than most. It was obvious that Aldus had known exactly which two men were headed over to France.

  When Aldus waved them forward, Hartley was hard-pressed not to run up to the men. His need to get the new information he had to his men was so strong it was an ache in his bones. Both men were tall, though one was a lot slimmer than the other, both had dark hair, and both watched him with faint smiles on their faces. Hartley frowned at Aldus when he reached his friend’s side, wondering just what Aldus had told the men.

  “Hartley, allow me to introduce the Baron of Starkley, Sir Leopold Wherlocke, and his cousin, Bened Vaughn.” Aldus quickly told the men who Hartley and Gifford were and grinned as they all shook hands. “You did not need my glib tongue today, Hart.”

  “Let us see what our little cousin Alethea has drawn,” said Leopold. “If I recall, she always had an astonishing gift at drawing.”

  “She still does,” Hartley said and handed them the drawings.

  He waited with ill-disguised impatience as the two men studied the drawings. It was surprisingly difficult to suppress the urge to ask them what gifts they possessed. The fact that Leopold was knighted and a baron, yet Hartley had never met the man, added a lot of weight to the rumor that the Vaughns and the Wherlockes were a reclusive group. He wondered if the man’s superiors knew and accepted whatever gifts the men did possess.

  “She has honed her art,” Leopold said as he rolled up the drawing and stuck it inside the long coat he wore. “If you will allow, we will assist your men before we begin our work.”

  “You know my men?”

  “We have bumped into each other several times over the last three years.”

  “How many of your family work for the government?”

  “Only a few, and those who do often enlist the aid of others. And, ere you ask, no, we do not freely express our various gifts. Such honesty could soon hinder us in our work. I am pleased that you men so easily accepted what our cousins can do.”

  Hartley sighed. “I would not say easily, but belief came soon after we met them. For me it came when I saw Alethea gripped by a vision, and then she told us things she could not possibly have known.” He smiled faintly. “As for Iago and his ghosts, I believe he sees them and thank God that I cannot.”

  Bened nodded. “Always grateful I was never cursed with the gift of seeing the dead.”

  Hartley wanted to ask just what gift the big man had, but bit back the question. There was a glint of amusement in Sir Leopold’s eyes that told him the man knew how Hartley fought against his own curiosity. They spoke of how to contact Hartley’s men and the intricate plans that had been made to get his niece and nephew home, and then the two men left.

  “How did you know exactly who we were looking for?” Hartley asked Aldus as they walked back to the carriage.

  “Did not know the names, only the where and what they looked like,” Aldus answered. “I started telling my tale, and Leopold told me to cease trying to lie and just tell him the truth. Then he introduced himself and Bened, and I saw no reason not to tell the truth.”

  “How did he know you were lying?” asked Gifford. “No one is ever sure when you are lying. You are disturbingly good at, always have been.”

  “So that is his gift,” said Hartley before Aldus could answer. “He can scent a lie no matter how skilled the liar. Very useful. I wonder if his superiors know that.”

  “They may guess it,” said Aldus. “Just as Willsett guessed that we got our information on Claudette from some gift the moment I mentioned the Vaughns. I am thinking there are a lot in our government, at least the ones we work for, who know about the Vaughns and the Wherlockes already.”

  “You did not say you had told him about Alethea and Iago.”

  “I did not tell him much, just mentioned their names, and after I did, all of his doubt disappeare
d. I could see that he knew how we got so much knowledge about Claudette, but he did not ask and I did not say. It is obviously not just the family that keeps the secret.” Aldus shrugged and climbed into the carriage. “Mayhap it is one of those things that no one wants to be the first to admit to believing in.”

  “I think I can understand that. Too many disbelieve or are frightened of it all. No man wanting to better his position in any branch of government would want it known that he not only believed in such things, he was ready to make use of them. He would soon be crushed by the ridicule and find himself no more than a secretary.”

  “True. I certainly do not intend to boast of my wife’s ability to have visions.”

  Hartley had to bite back a laugh as he watched his friends’ faces. First puzzlement and then open-mouthed shock. It was several moments before anyone spoke, and he was not surprised when the first one to say anything was Aldus.

  “You have asked Alethea to marry you?” Aldus asked.

  “Not yet, but soon,” replied Hartley. “I am the last of the Grevilles save for a few very distant cousins. If Bayard is still alive, he cannot be my heir, not as the entailment is written now. I need a wife. I knew that from the day I buried my brother. I just decided I did not need one too soon. Never met a woman who even made the word enter my head.”

  “Until Alethea.”

  “Yes, until Alethea. And, yes, I know there is a good chance that any child we have will have some sort of gift, but, after having met her and Iago and now two of her cousins, that does not worry me. I will admit that when the thought of marriage first entered my head I pushed it out as fast as I could. But it came back again and again. I am comfortable with her in a way I have never been comfortable with another woman.”

  “Not very romantic,” murmured Gifford.

  “No, and I have decided I need to woo her. I have done none of that, especially since I was still trapped in that business with Claudette.” He laughed and shook his head. “I realized I know seduction but have never truly wooed a woman. And now that I might have Germaine and Bayard coming home, God willing, I feel an even more urgent need for a wife.”

  “She is a bit young to act as mother to your niece and nephew.”

  “And I would never ask her to. But she can help both of them in many ways, even if only to aid them in their eventual return to the society they were born into.”

  “Do you care for her?” asked Gifford.

  “Ah, yes, I do in my own way. I like her and I want her. I also enjoy her company and trust her. Since I plan on being a faithful husband, I believe those things are far more important than some emotion no two people describe in the same way twice and which seems to be used all too often to hurt or entrap.”

  “I suggest you do not tell her how you feel about love.”

  “I do not intend to speak of that at all.”

  Aldus grinned and winked at Gifford. “This should be very interesting.”

  Hartley just scowled at his friends, who kept right on grinning.

  Chapter 9

  Alethea briefly wondered if she could claim her injuries still pained her and that she needed to go home as she looked around the crowded ballroom. Then she cursed softly, causing an older woman to frown at her and move away. She had neither a twinge of pain nor the shadow of a bruise left and had been complaining about being trapped in the house for over two weeks. A walk through the park on a cold, rainy, windy day would be preferable to this torture, however, she mused.

  The room was hot from the press of too many over-dressed bodies and too many candles. A multitude of scents crowded the air, not all of them pleasant. The heavy perfumes some used to hide the smell of an unwashed body were the worst. It did not hide anything, mixing instead with the odor of the body to create a completely different, nose-wrinkling smell. She wondered how the ones who indulged in such things could be so blind to their own rank scent.

  Sipping at a glass of watery lemonade, Alethea watched Hartley dance with the daughter of one of his father’s old friends. The old friend stood on the side of the room watching them with a benevolent smile. He knew this dance with Hartley would be enough to get his child the notice she needed to find a husband. The daughter looked as if she wished she could melt away into the highly polished floor. Alethea felt badly for the girl, understanding all too well the heady mix of Hartley and the music. She hoped, for the girl’s sake, that no one noticed how poorly she danced.

  At least he is no longer fawning all over Claudette, she thought with a surge of relief. Hartley did not ignore the woman, but he did make it very clear that her many charms were not enough to lure him into her bed. Claudette might still be smiling and flirting as if nothing troubled her, and acting oh so very polite, but there was no ignoring the hard glint of fury in the woman’s eyes.

  When the woman suddenly looked at Alethea, it was as if sharp, icy knives were piercing her skin, and Alethea looked around for her uncle. As usual, he was discussing ways to increase his fortune with Lord Dansing, but Alethea moved to stand by his side anyway. It was a little cowardly to use him as a shield, but she decided she would rather be cowardly then face a furious Claudette.

  She was soon bored, but, for once, she did not care. Claudette gave her the chills, truly frightened her. And that fear was not all caused by the ghosts of her bruises whenever she looked at the woman. There was a dark madness in Claudette. Alethea also suspected that the woman had committed so many crimes and eluded justice for so long that she believed herself invincible, or simply so much cleverer than the rest of the world. It was not cowardly to try to protect herself from such a woman; it was wise. From this moment on, until that woman was imprisoned or dead, Alethea had no intention of going anywhere alone.

  Her attention fixed upon making certain her skirts were smoothed and straightened, Alethea stepped out from behind the screens shielding the chamber pots and closestools in the lady’s retiring room. A chill swept over her, and she shivered despite the warmth of the room. She tensed, and her heart began to beat a little faster. It was a warning of some kind: she was certain of it. Lifting her gaze, she met the hard, cold stare of Madame Claudette des Rouches. For a second time, her gift had warned her of a danger to herself. Alethea just wished it would learn to do so in time for her to escape. Warning her of danger when it was standing only a few feet away was useless.

  “I have discovered a few things about you, m’lady,” said Claudette.

  Alethea did not think she had ever heard the word m’lady spoken with such venom, as if it was the foulest of dockside curses. “And what would those things be, madame?”

  “You are one of the Vaughns, blood related to the Wherlockes, worshippers of the devil.”

  “What rot!” she snapped, her fear pushed aside by her instinctive need to defend her family.

  “Is it? I think, mayhap, you have bewitched my marquis. Oui, it is the only explanation for why a man like him would be sniffing around the skirts of a woman like you. He has no need of some mousy little country widow. And rumor has it that, even though you are a widow, you are not experienced enough to satisfy such a man.”

  That stung, but Alethea did not betray the pinch she suffered by even the faintest of winces. “I have not noticed any of this, er, sniffing. You imagine things.” Alethea needed all of her willpower not to step back when Claudette curled her fingers in such a way that, with her long nails, it made them look more like talons than fingers. “Lord Redgrave is an unwed man. I suspect he looks at many women, all very beautiful, as I am not, yet you show no inclination to accost them in the lady’s retiring room.”

  “Do not try to play such games with me, m’lady. I have played them far longer and am much, much better than you at them.”

  “How very nice for you.” Alethea suspected that Claudette was a mere breath away from attacking her and wondered why she continued to goad the woman. “I play no games. I leave them to the experts, such as you claim to be. Lord Redgrave is a free man and can do precis
ely as he pleases. I sincerely doubt he would appreciate you interfering with his life.”

  “Heed me, witch. Cease drawing him to your side. I want him, and I shall have him. Being a marchioness would suit me very well, and I mean to be one. If you do not run home to your little farm soon, you will regret it. Trust me on that. And cease spreading tales about me, and cease it right now! Or soon there will be many a tale whispered about you and your cursed family.”

  “There have been whispers about my family spread about the ton for centuries. No one will heed your lies.”

  “Oh, I will not bother with the ton. They have proven that they care not that witches and sorcerers walk freely amongst them. Non, I speak of the common folk. They are not so enlightened, oui? They still believe in demons, witches, and sorcerers, and hate them. Fear them as they should. And I think you have heard how easily a mob can be stirred up, eh? So leave and shut your mouth or you will not be the only one who suffers my wrath.”

  Claudette was gone before Alethea had the chance to respond to the threat. It hung in the air, a miasma of pure evil. Alethea was not sure what she should do. It was one thing to refuse to run from a threat to herself, but Claudette had just threatened her whole family. Every Wherlocke and Vaughn child had grown up with tales of the past and warnings about letting too many people know what they could do, and would recognize the force of the threat. The early years of both families were littered by the horrific deaths of their ancestors at the hands of angry mobs.

  Alethea was not surprised to see her hand shaking as she reached for the door latch. She would have to go back to Coulthurst. She could not allow Claudette to fulfill her threat to her family. There were too many Vaughns and Wherlockes in the city, and London was notorious for the ease with which its citizens could be roused into riots and destruction. She needed to find Hartley or Iago to take her home so that she could begin packing for Coulthurst.