“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 called 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.
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Taming the Wicked Wulfe
The Rogue Agents Trilogy, Book 1
“When are the other men showing up?” Liam asked in his thick Scottish brogue.
“Any time. Are you certain you are ready for this?” Thorn volleyed back.
“I have no choice now, do I?” the larger man chuckled.
“Baptism by fire,” Thorn muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“These men want to become partners in our business?”
“Yes.”
“When will they be here?”
“Bloody hell, Liam, do you never shut up?”
“If a man is to find out things, he needs to ask questions,” Liam pulled out a pocket watch. “Half past nine,” he muttered.
“Should be any minute. Nice watch.”
“Thanks.”
“Someone special give it to you?”
“She used to be. I’ll be lucky if she ever talks to me again.”
The men heard approaching footsteps at the same time. They were at the end of the alley, not a great position to take up when fighting an enemy, but they had scouted it the night before and knew the lay of the land. A puff of smoke heralded the entrance of William Thomas, Earl of Glandingham and two of his burly footmen. This man believed himself to be much more important than he was.
“Gentlemen, I’m so glad you could keep the meeting.”
“Nothing would keep us from it,” Thorn said. “Your missive said you wanted to buy into Lady Luck. I’m not certain we are looking for another partner at the moment.”
“It would behoove you to reconsider my offer, Wulfe.”
“Just what are you offering?”
“Fifty thousand pounds and I am your only partner.”
“What the hell?” Liam interjected.
“Shut up, you skirt wearing bastard! Know when you are in the presence of your betters.”
“I won’t take that from the likes of you, Sassenach!” Liam argued.
Glandingham nodded at the two men on either side of him and they moved on Liam. Although the man outweighed each of them by a stone, they cornered him, landing punches on his face and ribs. They dropped him to the trash-littered ground of the alley. The men kicked him in his back, legs, and head.
“Enough!” Thorn yelled, causing the men to fall back.
“We can finish him off for you, Wulfe,” Glandingham needled.
“No.” Thorn Wulfe withdrew a pistol hidden beneath his coat and walked over to Liam. The man lay on the ground, coughing and trying to catch his breath. “Fifty thousand pounds, you say?”
“Fifty thousand.”
“Wulfe?” Liam pushed up off his stomach and looked at Thorn.
“Sorry, old man, it has been a good run, but we must part paths now,” he said, cocking the pistol.
“No!” Liam yelled as Thorn pulled back on the trigger, the loudness ricocheted off of the walls of the buildings surrounding them. The Scotsman fell face down on the ground, dark liquid pooled around him like a lake. Wulfe replaced his pistol and stepped over the body of his ex-partner.
“Glandingham, shall we go to the Lady Luck and finalize the terms of our agreement over a nice brandy?”
“Indeed, and we are going to be partners, call me William.”
“Shall we?” He held out his hand for the earl to go ahead of him, not offering the same amount of friendliness that Glandingham had. He left the alley, never once looking back at the man whose life he just took.
***
Dawn broke over the city of London when Thorn finally retired to his rooms. He dropped heavily in the chair behind his desk, a bottle of Scottish whisky next to him. A knock sounded on the door just as Thorn removed the stopper from the bottle. “Come in,” exhaustion tinged his voice.
“I have some papers for you to sign, sir,” his valet entered the room.
“What are they?”
“I don’t know, sir. Mr. Brown brought them and said they are in regards to various estate matters.”
“Why isn’t Win taking care of it?”
“That is a question for Mr. Brown, sir.”
“Just give me the damn papers, James. What about the other?” he asked as he dipped a quill in ink and began scrawling his name at the spots indicated, not reading what he signed.
“Taken care of, sir.”
“Here,” he pushed the papers in James’ direction. “Have those delivered to Brown.”
“Yes, sir. Anything else?”
“How are you at telling people their son is dead at the hand of his partner?” He looked up and saw the look of disapproval that crossed James’ face. “For God, King, and Country,” he lifted the whisky bottle in the air before drinking directly from it.
“Sir?”
“Your dismissed, James.”
The valet turned and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Thorn started the letter three times before he finally found a way to inform a family that their son had valiantly died that night, never once mentioning his part in the whole sordid affair.
***
“Theodore Wulfe, I will not do it! 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 I, 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. She watched 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 daughters,” he broke off into a fit of coughing.
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 Wolf’s Point in years. A man who if she saw him, she swore there 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 girls 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 children regardless. Knowing that Zachary will rule a dukedom, they will want to have him close so that they can attempt to turn him into a pious monster. No, Rebecka, 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 into 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 the two of you?”
“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 desperate look 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.
A Thin Line Page 35
